A Grandpaw and a Gun

    

    I don't know if this picture matches the Easter we spent with my grandparents, the memory seems to match the age. 

My Grandmaw Irene, Grandpaw Lloyd, Kim, Karen and me. 

   My cousin, Kim, no doubt my first best friend. No matter when we had the chance to see each other, from my earliest memory of her, it was always a happy time. I was always excited. 

   This Easter, I remember her and I sleeping on a fold-out sofa bed. When we woke up in the morning, the Easter baskets were no where to be found. I I can still see so clearly, Kim and I sitting on the bed and looking at my Grandpaw at the door. His story: he shot the Easter Bunny when he was jumping out of the window, and that was why we didn't have any Easter baskets! The thought that the bunny was dead was just horrible, my little child mind couldn't grasp that idea. Thinking about it now ,

I'm not surprised by his story, it was his niche-storytelling. 

   And the final memory, walking in the front room, my grandparent's room, and finding our baskets sitting there. I still have the basket. 💛💚💜

I LOVE

I LOVE.....

• how you don't ask in the morning how work is going.  Heck, you don't ask at all, any time during the day. 
• how you don't ask how I'm feeling, ever.  
• how you don't dance with me, regardless of the occasion.  I simply appreciate more the ones who did (you know those precious friends who would twirl me around the floor), and the times I get to take pictures at events and watch others dance, all the time thinking those ladies have won the lottery and don't even know it. 
• how you only wash your own dish and not all the others that are stacked up.  It's a great reminder that no one will take care of me but me. 
• how you don't call me baby.  Not because you don't know how to call someone baby but because you don't look at me that way.  You call our daughter baby.  It's the perfect vision of your perception.  It is the most stark reminder of those that have special nicknames. It makes me appreciate them even more.  
• how you give me a hard time about drinking any kind of beverage.  You miss out on the me that is a bit more carefree, fun, cheesy.  Just different ;-)
• how you don't like to spend so much time with family, near and far.  It makes me appreciate them and my time with them even more.  They wrap me in the good stuff. I feel comfortable around them and know it's okay to be me.  
• how you don't ever ask what you can do to help, with anything.  I see you're drowning, don't worry about the clothes, the dishes, the house.  Oh, you need me to stack some papers for you, put them in alphabetical order?  No problem, I can do that in a few minutes.  Nope, never.  
• how you control the remote EVERY SINGLE DAY AND NIGHT.  If you are in the house, it doesn't matter if I want to watch something, I better go sit in the room, alone, and watch it because it won't be with you.  
• how every conversation is diabolical and manipulated because you simply can't imagine that people do not have an ulterior motive.  That maybe, just maybe, they don't think that deeply about simple things.  The deep stuff is saved for the big things, like emotions and love.  
• how you like to hug on a pillow or a blanket that ends up between us.  It hurts my back so much and pushes me so far away from you.  Another opportunity for me to be thankful for those that loved freely, and didn't feel the need to hold back affection for any reason at all. 
• how you are so judgmental of physical appearance and beauty.  I become even more grateful for the love of my body.  There are some who can desire a person, regardless of physical attributes.  Desire is a mighty powerful thing (the most powerful for me.  I don't think you've noticed that).  
• how you disregard tears.  In fact, I'm pretty sure you have never cried.  
• how our children have some of my most sincerest personality traits.  I have no doubt how that's going to benefit them.  
• how so many actions, by others, that I tell you are out of line but somehow you make me sound irrational.  Maybe I'm too much of a feeling=actions kind of person.  Or my loyalty is entirely too great and too deep.  

It's an addiction

My memory is kept by the pictures. Almost to a point that is scary. Everything is visual. Even when I write, I write as if I'm trying to create a picture with words. My happiness is looking at the moments frozen in time or the videos with movement and talking. My memories fade quickly, I can't hear the voice, don't remember the words. At this moment in my life, I think my "niche" is putting words and pictures together. I want to use pictures to tell every story as a record of the moment, or a person's personal story or just thoughts where you find the pictures that match the words. 

No doubt my retirement is planned at 42. 

And it Worked!

Thanksgiving Week, a "little" cousin, a wedding, a road trip, and some magical lanterns.
Out of nine grandchildren, there are only two boys.  The oldest, Paul, got married on Friday.  A rare wedding opportunity in our family.  It's been a few years since we had one.  Our family is scattered a bit across the United States. But, somehow, the stars aligned and we managed to get a few of us together for the celebration. These magical lanterns.  My cousin found them.  I've seen them in movies, cartoons, but never quite understood how they worked.  And then to light them, and watch them float up like something magical was just the most wonderful thing in the world.  Take one off the bucket list!

Just a Piece of "China"

One plate of China from our wedding, a gift from
my great aunt

It was an extraordinary weekend.  My cousins were getting together, so myself and the daughter took a ride up to visit them.  Since both of my cousins were together at one time, I thought it would be perfect to bring some things that belonged to my grandparents -pictures and crystal-that needed to be shared.  Besides my dad, there are only us left.  Here we are with all of these possessions, and what to do with them as our families move forward in life.
     The one tote was full of crystal, I added the photos to it.  We went through it, they took home a significant amount.  But when I unpacked the tote initially, I came across this plate.  When the guy and I got married, I recalled not wanting to go to a special store and pick out "China" because 1) I was embarrassed, I simply didn't know what to do, and 2) I didn't think anyone in my family could afford it (or would buy it).  For the record, I didn't know how much China cost at all. Nor was everyone in my family destitute.
At my wedding shower, my grandpaw's oldest sister bought us this gift, a set of dishes that was "China".  I remember opening it and saying, "Ahhhhh, China!" I was very excited, I thought it was very pretty.  But today, I am nagged with the thought of how many of my family must have laughed at me.  It wasn't real China.  Essentially, probably, just a nicer set of dishes from Wal-Mart.  I was okay with the that because I thought they were beautiful and my aunt had bought it for me.
   Which leads me to a whole different thought.  For some reason, my family seems to break things.  My children break things, I break things. Meaningful things.  Things that need to be saved, cherished.  I am probably most happy by that set of dishes because I actually still have a few of the plates and saucers.  

She Shuffles Her Feet

My grandmaw. Christmas 2009 with my first cousin. Her, essentially her, always her. When I look at the picture I immediately think this is how she has always looked, although I know in reality she has aged in the last 37 years.

I notice on these days that she doesn't walk with the confidence that she did in the past. We went to one of her aunt's funeral. The rhythm of her steps had taken on a different beat, I could hear it. I was mesmerized by the simple action that said so much. So much that I don't want to see, accept, or hear. So much that she does not say.

My grandmother loves us in an amazing way, always has. She would rock us in her recliner when we were little, lay in bed with us until we went to sleep, make us breakfast. She does the same things with my children now. Many times I watch in awe until I am reminded (or remember) the days of being a little child and loving to be with my grandmother and grandfather. Always a constant support, stability and surety.

Now-today-this weekend, we are spending time in the hospital because she fell out of the bed and hurt herself. Her back gives her great pain. She can't stand up very well. I look on with unbelief. Is this the same woman who has run circles around me for most of my life? Who is my best friend? Who sees things in a way that most of us don't even think about. And I toss around the idea of life without her, thinking I am not ready. I talk to her everyday about my deepest fears. I see her almost every day. My children exist with her as a constant grandmother. She is my stronghold. No I cannot imagine life without her.

Still Trying

Sunday morning, after a week of vacation for Thanksgiving. Feeling as unmotivated as a snail on an uphill climb. The week has been far from pleasant, so unpleasant, turmoil, tears, and unsettled sleep. Unproductive in the most horrible way. Can't figure out most days if I am coming or going.
I have the most foul mood and it has been lingering for days. I can't quite figure out where it came from because I would surely send it back just as quickly. Even with the holiday season upon us my only thought is still, Lord let this time pass quickly. What if I had more money to buy presents? Would that bring a sense of "happiness" and calm? Uhhhmmmm, no it wouldn't. I know then I would anguish myself over rather or not it is the right gift, useful, blah blah blah.

What if my family was complete in one way or another? Would that answer my mood? No, I wouldn't trust him (whoever him may be), and I would still not be satisfied because the "situation" is not right. I think I will take this living arrangement then. I do not lose sleep over one person or another in my house being happy or satisfied. I do not concern myself with whether or not my actions are pleasing to another. My only concern is for my children and no matter any of the above circumstances, I would be concerned with all aspects of their life and how I affected it.

I have spent some of this vacation purging my storage totes. It started out as a Christmas material search but ended as a look back in time search. I found the tote with all of my wedding materials in it. So I started purging, and purging, and purging. I found a most disturbing journal entry. I wrote this during the spring of 96, before I was married and I was still in college. I was worried that I wasn't going to finish college, life was so difficult (if I only knew), dealing with my parents was difficult too. Yet, the most creapy think of all was at the very end of the journal entry. I was complaining of the idiot's job. He was in the jailer position and they were confirming and reassuring him that he would soon be on the road. I shared that I was worried that he would be unfaithful (what the he!!), he would be presented with an opportunity and would be WEAK. Oh sweet everything that is good and faithful in this world, how could I have had such thoughts about a person I was less than six months from marrying? And if I was having those thoughts, why in the world did I marry him anyway? Was that a prominition or just a thought because of something that had already happened and for the life of me I can't even imagine anything that had happened at that point in our lives. My heart was pure and I was walking into this agreement with the more confidence than I had ever felt about anything else in my life.

Is this God's way of telling me this is what it was all along even though I didn't even know it? I pray for guidance and forgiveness.