Last night as I was drifting off to sleep, I reminded myself to wish my sister a Happy Birthday in the morning. When I awoke, I had a “Hangout” (Google’s version of “chat”) message from a friend, who I originally met through my sister.
He was sweet enough to let me know he was thinking of my family today, as it’s my sister’s birthday. I cried. I wasn’t prepared to see that anyone else had remembered or that they would reach out to me before I mentioned it. My sister, as much of a pain in the ass that she could be (as only her sister would know), truly touched the lives of many people. It’s a great way to be remembered.
Her death was one of the reasons I stopped using my other Facebook page, which had a lot of military affiliations on it. In fact, I didn’t use Facebook for several months. It was no longer important. Kathi was such a supporter of our vets and gave me such support while I supported active duty, it just didn’t seem right to continue on. I couldn’t face her friends, whom I’d had become friends with. It wasn’t the same without her; it still isn’t.
Par for the course, it just hit me how I coped today. I couldn’t bring myself to do much of anything but sleep for the majority of this morning and afternoon. I did some chores and saw my family off for the evening. Everyone is gone from the house now, and it’s just me. There’s not a whole lot on television tonight, so I was browsing Netflix. I came across “Merlin”. Sure, why not? I’m not super into fantasy, but I’ve always liked that which surrounded Merlin and Camelot.
Cleaning up the kitchen, I smiled. Kathi LOVED fantasy. She was big into fairies, Lord of the Rings, Dungeons and Dragons, etc. I’m no longer watching tv, but I am leaving the show on. That’s our bond for tonight: the Fantasy realm.
Happy Birthday, Sis!
Photo by Pixaby
….to chocolate that is! The afternoon at work is dragging and the coffee stopped working hours ago.
I know, just through the door and down the hall, awaits that wretched machine….the vending machine. It eagerly awaits my change or credit card (fancy, fancy now) to buy its over-priced goodies. Sadly, the machine has one of my favorite “go-to” candies of all time, encased behind its glass. The one, the only, “nem-a-nemes” (as I used to call them). The rest of the world just calls them M&Ms.
Those beautifully colored, bits of chocolate, adorned by the “m”. Some colors have changed over the years, flavors have been added, some are even seasonal, but there will always be the one and only, original M&M. It gets me through the day. Brings chocolate cheer in a small brown bag with white lettering.
ALL HAIL THE M&M!!!
(Ok, that’s the chocolate talking. lol)
Very moving piece. The first part caught my attention most. I had nightmares of that well-descriptive scene while my son was deployed. I have written to new gold-star families, while my son was still in the sandbox. These are every day occurrences many people don’t even see, or hear, in this instance.
“Luck? I don’t know anything about luck. I’ve never banked on it and I’m afraid of people who do. Luck to me is something else: Hard work – and realizing what is opportunity and what isn’t.” (Lucille Ball)
Yesterday in the car, my daughter looked at my hands and said, “you have hands like daddy”. I looked at her and asked what she meant. She took one of my hands and placed it next to her hand. Her hand is dainty, soft, long nails; picturesque of a woman’s hand, minus the nail polish. On the other hand, my nails were very short, full of wrinkles, a bit rough; but missing the the calluses that used to be present on my palms. I replied my hands aren’t as dainty as hers because I used to use my hands a lot. That seemed to quell her inquisitive mind.
It got me thinking though. My hands show my life. They show that long nails, polish, being massaged with lotions weren’t the norm. My hands showed a worker’s life. I grew up very low, middle class. I know there were times that we probably qualified for some type of assistance. My dad only had an eighth grade education. My mother sometimes worked two jobs. We made due with what we had.
I was responsible for watching my younger sisters. We grew some of our own food. We didn’t hire people to mow our lawn; we did it. Clothes were hung out on the line to save on the energy bill. It was just what we did. It’s how I grew up. I am not ashamed to say, I was a “chambermaid” back in the day. What’s that? Oh that’s right, they’ve changed the name these days. Most people are now called “housekeeping” when working in motels/hotels. I have waited tables, scrubbed toilets, tended bar, worked in gardens, help cut firewood. I grew up doing manual labor. My mother never stressed keeping our hands soft with lotion.
Now, I have a working knowledge that I still use today, but it mostly pertains to my home. I work in an office, so I guess I’ve changed my collar from blue to white. I will remember when life was a lot harder for me, but taught me how to work through it. I am not ashamed of that now (as a kid I once was). I think some people today could benefit from working with their hands. Yet, I will always remember, with pride, why my hands aren’t pretty.
Yes, my lil miss was at it again…
In the car this morning and realizing knowledge is a great thing until it comes back at ya in the form a 9-year old.
In car this morning…hear “Money for Nothing”. I turn it up. The lil miss says, “ugg. Mom, no kid likes this oldies music”. I bit my bottom lip just smiled.
Lil miss: “Mom, why are you doing this (imitating my face)?
Me: Because this way, I won’t knock you into next week (j/k).
Lil miss: You know it’s literally impossible to knock a person into next week, right? (insert smug face here)
All my fault for teaching her to think and talk. Ahh my lil miss.
“Twenty years from now, you will be more disappointed by the things that you didn’t do than by the ones you did do, so throw off the bowlines, sail away from safe harbor, catch the trade winds in your sails.” (Mark Twain)