What’s that old adage about crying over spilt tomatoes? Never mind.
Studly Doright, (my first and current husband), our two children, and I have moved many times in our 38.5 years of marriage, so we’ve never become overly attached to any one residence. Home has always been wherever our little family is at any given time.
A friend wrote something on Facebook the other day, though, that made me wonder what it would have felt like to have stayed in one home for all of our married lives, raising a family and watching them grow, and helping them leave the nest. I wondered what it would be like when eventually one of us had to face the task of selling the home. Ok, I got a little teary eyed.
The poem below is what came of my reverie. Parts of it are gleaned from true events from my own childhood–I drew the mountains, my brothers and I played for hours and hours under a big old pine tree in a long ago front yard.
Please pardon our dust
The old house has been closed up for a long, long time.
But if you close your eyes
You can almost feel the love that once lived here.
Over there our children played
Before they made their own lives
And their own dust in their own homes.
Please pardon my tears
I really thought this would be easier,
But remembering is both sweet and hard.
You see these marks on the wall?
Our oldest drew ‘mountains’ there
When she was barely three.
I kept meaning to paint over them
But thirty years later you can still
Pretend to take a trip to the summit
And ski down the slopes to drink
Hot chocolate at the lodge.
Please pardon my lapse
I just can’t go through the rest
Look around on your own
Take your time.
Be sure to visit the backyard and
Swing on that old tire,
Maybe dig in the sand,
And carve roads under the pine.
It’s a fine place for kids
It was a fine place for us.
Little girl, hair a’flying
Barely 9 and a half
Drives like a maniac
On her old Schwinn bike
Singing Taylor Swift
At the top of her lungs.
Pretty girl, smart to boot
18 and a half
Home for a weekend
With a new boyfriend
How long will this one last?
Beautiful woman, baby in tow
27 and a half
Thanksgiving with her family
Gathered round the kitchen stove
Remembers the bike
Married the beau.
Autumn’s middle child
Always dares to remind
That little girls grow into women
In just a few Novembers’ time.
Rhymes with Autumn
Did you get those shoes? Got ’em!
What will you do with those plants? Pot ’em!
How do you tie your laces? Knot ’em!
How’d you get those books? Bought ’em!
Where’d you get those fish? Caught ’em!
How’d they win the war? Fought ’em!
How’d those kids learn that? Taught ’em!
I know there are more
Ways to rhyme Autumn
Unfortunately I seem
To have reached
The road from point A to point B is 30
semi-straight, lackluster interstate miles.
I drive it most days on my way to work,
But I always look for shortcuts.
There is a road just west of Point A
That leads to a road intersecting Point B
And when I have a bit of extra time
I scoot on over and follow its curves.
Never mind that this route
While two miles shorter
Adds 20 minutes to my drive.
A shortcut in name only,
But well worth the time.
Our lives have not always been easy. We struggled financially for many years. We failed each other many times, but we always got up and made things right. There were many times when it would have been easy to give up, to quit, but we refused. We were never satisfied with failure or with doing things half-assed.
So today I’m thankful for a certain willful stubbornness. A refusal to accept the status quo. Studly and I are living proof that if you work hard and treat others as you wish to be treated that there’s a good chance you’ll do okay in this world. No, we aren’t wealthy. But we are comfortable. We won’t have a fortune to leave our kids. But we have a whole lot of love to leave them. And stubbornness.
Here’s hoping that this Thanksgiving Day allows each of my readers to take a moment to think on all the really good things in their lives. I’m thankful for each of you.
The market on love
Has been cornered
By those of us
Who know that
Sometimes the clouds threaten
And the sky goes sunless
Day upon day
And all that holds the storm at bay
Are the winds swept aloft
By shared laughter.
So what if we can’t live
On love alone?
Honestly we never even tried.
Some days we might have
Forgotten to remember, though
The importance of just looking
Into a smile and seeing
The world we’ve created
From no more than a pair
Of long ago I do’s.
Happy birthday Studly!
This cracked me up. Hope you enjoy, too.
I am so thankful for my loving and generous family, and for my amazing, caring friends. I thank God for my health and for my home and for my jazzy little mini van. For some strange reason, I have been blessed beyond words and I am grateful.
Now, with all that being said, let’s talk about the shit that we’re not going to mention on Thanksgiving.
I think we all know someone whose gonna say something stupid or insulting or hurtful, on this most gluttonous of days. And I guess without pointing fingers, this is my way of giving that certain family member a little heads up…a little nod in the don’t-be-a-jerk-direction. Too bad they don’t actually read my blog, but if they did…well, they probably wouldn’t be talking to me anyway. But don’t let that get in the way of you doing your own nodding. Feel free to hit…
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Married folks tend to learn each other’s tics and tendencies over time. I’ve made note of some of the things that we just do because we’ve been yoked together for so long. Some of it isn’t all that pretty, but some of it is just right. I guess you’ll have to decide which is which.
Crack each other up with just the right facial expression.
Fart and/or belch freely, then apologize sincerely before farting and/or belching again.
Steal each other’s portion of the blanket.
Hold hands unselfconsciously.
Find each other’s lips on the first try in the darkest of rooms.
Know exactly where to scratch when their partner has an itch.
Finish each other’s sentences. Sometimes correctly.
Elaborate on one another’s stories.
Watch a program they don’t want to watch because their partner wants to watch it.
Understand the “look” and adjust as needed.
Commiserate with one another’s angst, even if it doesn’t seem like a big deal to you.
Be the bright spot when the other’s is dim.
Anticipate the other’s needs, such as bringing home a new bottle of wine without being asked.
Refrain from making a joke at the other’s expense.
Gladly be the butt of a joke when necessary.