Wednesday, November 28, 2007
I had a wonderful Thanksgiving!
This year, for the first time, John took over the tradition that his father had started: smoking the ham and turkey for our dinner.
I thought that was pretty cool that he wanted to do that, and it gave me a warm feeling to see him chopping up the wood and keeping the firebox full just the way Andy used to.
In order to chop the wood John needed the hatchet that I keep locked up in his dad's toolbox. (The toolbox,one of those gigantic rolling Craftsman types, will become his when he gets older... probably on his 18th birthday.)
After taking out the hatchet, John gave me back the key.
Then he said matter-of-factly: "Mom, did you know Daddy kept a picture of you in the lid of his toolbox?"
No, I didn't know. I had been through the tools a couple of times after Andy died, but it never occured to me to look inside the lid. John stands perfectly at eye level with it. I took the key and opened up the box. Sure enough, on the lefthand corner of the top lid was a photo of me that, judging from what I was wearing, was taken around 1996. I don't even remember the photo! It was in a plastic sleeve and neatly taped inside the lid.
After all these years, sometimes I almost forget that the man adored me.
But there on that lid was more proof. He loved me. He really loved me!
Just thought I'd share.
Friday, November 23, 2007
This year John has taken over his daddy's tradition of smoking a turkey and a ham for Thanksgiving. I give thanks for our wonderful memories and the different ways that we honor them.
I give thanks for the present and the new memories that we are creating.
Oh NO!!!! They're at it AGAIN!!!! (Remember Easter???)
Wednesday, November 7, 2007
Hmmm… it’s been too long since I have written.
Gotta write something, but there has been nothing much to write about.
I still have many of the same feelings as the past 6 years, but have already expressed those feelings repeatedly in my previous posts. The earth has circled the sun almost 6 times since Andy was here. At each season change I still feel the ghost of my previous joy, then a melancholy longing for the past. And later, full circle to the peace and contentment of the present.
Ironically, it is because of my peace and contentment that I have little to write about now. Life has evolved backward to what it was in the past, each watercolor day blending into the next with little distinction, but leaving a beautiful impression of iridescence and light.
How can one have a life that they absolutely desire, but wish for another at the same time?
Will I always feel this way?