Sixteen years is such a short time. Right now, it doesn’t seem like it because it’s all you’ve known, but I was exactly that age when you were born and I could probably, if I choose to, remember a time that there wasn’t a you in my world, but I don’t. Since there was a you, the way I think about life has changed and all of that in the context of having a you somewhere in it. Because of the you in my life, I am more inclined to view the world in a way that offers more potential than ever and more calamity than ever and in such, I have expanded the horizons of my ever.

Lately, sister, you and I have been talking and it occurs to me that we are going to have differences. It has always been me for you and you for me and our age difference has never bothered either of us because we love each other like cupcakes love icing and sprinkles. Tonight, you mentioned something to me and asked me to promise, prior to telling me, not to get mad at you and to not love you less.

Here’s a secret: I’ve been mad at you many times and they’ve only made me love you more.

Sisters are unlike any other love that I have experienced. I don’t know if this is true for others, Sister, but I know this is true for me. It’s not like the love I have for my son, though it is not less in love. It’s not like any love I have experienced with men in life, though it is not less in love. It’s not like the love I have for our mother. It is all encompassing, truly unconditional love that makes me want to be around you all the time but allow you to be free to grow up as an individual. It makes me want to tell you secrets, want to hear yours, and want to have you as a daily part of my life. When I pray, amongst the many things I am grateful for is the amazing, miracle of a sister who arrived in my life just in time to save me from some of the mistakes I could have made and who showed me love when I needed it the most.

Sister, never doubt that you are loved. Always, always, always loved. Never loved less because we disagree. Never loved less because I am profoundly thankful of the good things that you receive. I cannot imagine a world in which I exist that you do not, even though I’ve been there. I love you, Sister. Happy birthday.

Love,
Sister

AJ has always had a tender heart. We have also always included AJ in the Valentine’s celebration. He’s not a fan of giving valentines to everyone, but when it comes to celebrating those he loves? It’s on. This year, we were looking forward to truly spending time together. He’d asked for flowers because, “I’ve never gotten flowers from anyone, Mama.” So, instead of flowers, he got a bamboo plant that he could grow on his own. He looks at it and whispers to it the way I do my daisy plant. I know. It’s odd. But I’m telling you, it’s the only plant I’ve kept alive and that little bit of daily encouragement helps it grow.

He also got a new baseball helmet with his name airbrushed on it. I had no idea this was such a big deal, but my little cousin Lola did it, too! I expected a gift from my husband, but I didn’t expect anything but a hug from my sweet little guy. Or maybe a card. Some years he’s done a card. At 6:07am, on Valentine’s Day (probably lucky he waited that long), I felt a little hand shaking my shoulder and flowers were thrust in my face along with a huge box of chocolates. “Happy Valentine’s Day, Mama! I love you!”

I still haven’t stopped smiling. I took pictures of my flowers. We devoured chocolates together as a family. I told everyone I knew that my son thought of me. I found out, later, that he’d spent the money he’d gotten as a gift from his NeeNee to buy my presents. They were ever so much sweeter.

If you want to know how to get to someone’s heart, show pure love and no motivation for anything in return. AJ waits all year long to buy me flowers. Leon said that almost every time they go to the store that AJ asks to get me some. I’m a lucky mom.

I get Valentine’s Day every single minute of every single day that I get to spend with my son.

Blaspheme, right? It’s true. Part of being a parent means that I have to do the hard work such as disciplining my child when he misbehaves or chooses to mess around in class as opposed to choosing to learn and distract those around him. This makes my job as a parent difficult and unenjoyable.

Lately, AJ has been testing his independence and his boundaries at school. This week he forgot something necessary at school and, as such, he ended up going to bed early and his dog was not allowed to sleep in his bedroom. In this house, one thing is always true: Wherever my child goes, so goes his dog. There has never been a more loyal dog than that dachshund to her boy.

What I knew was that the separation of the two was going to hurt one person: me. Why is this? Because AJ was going to go to sleep and I was going to be left with the whiny, leaky eyed dog that would look at the gaited stairs and turn eyes on me that were alternately hateful, pitiful and pleading. This is exactly what happened. She would go to the gate at the stairs and stand there for 10 minutes at a time while looking up at the darkened stairs and waiting for him to come down to get her. When it didn’t happen, she would come to me, grunt sadly and run back to the stairs. Her message was clearly “Please let me be with him.”

I had to say no. Over 100 times in the 4 hours I was awake after he went to bed did I say no. Eventually, she wore herself out and curled up on my legs. When I finally went to bed she calmly waited at the gate for me to allow her up. When I didn’t, she whined at me and watched me climb the stairs. I glanced at her sadly and went to bed.

Two hours later, I awoke and, eyes half closed, headed for the bathroom door. I happened to look down the stairs and she sat there, quietly and patiently, waiting for her boy.

In the morning, I cannot imagine what their reunion was like, but my son has been on his best behavior ever since and she has not left his side. He also has not forgotten a single bit of work since. Sometimes, a reminder of the people we let down by our failures can be the most honest motivator in our lives.

And sometimes people aren’t actually people but the vision of a dog that loves you more than anything standing alone in the dark waiting for you to come for her…

Because I’m a girl and a good cry from joy can make me happier than anything. And I’m ok with being a wuss.

When I don’t know that anything is coming to my post office box, I check it less frequently. Honestly, I don’t need Hardees coupons or local flyers. When I opened my box this week, I had a gift. It was a slip of an envelope that had Kurt Halsey’s name on it.

One of my first blogs, in a much different time of my life, was about a custom Kurt Halsey piece that Leon had commissioned for me for Christmas. I love his work and lately had been longing for something that represented where I feel I am now.

I mentioned in my twitter that I was wishing for the postcards of his most recent works. I had no idea what I’d do with them, but I would find something creative. In my mailbox this week were these.

Thank you, mystery gifter. You have no idea what kind of week I’ve had and what they meant. Kurt included a couple of handwritten post its that made me weepy.

And I cried.

Like the little wuss I am.

And I loved it.

I spent some time this evening reflecting and pushing myself out of my comfort zone and letting myself talk to others and be myself again and what I realized is that my struggle is not singular. If I’m having a bad weekend, someone else reading this is struggling as well. I want you to know that even if your heart is breaking, your body is aching, your mind feels lost and you feel fragile…you are not alone and someone cares deeply for you. The things that happen are hard and heart-breaking and stunning, but they are not the end for you.

Continue to grow and love and move forward. I’m going to try to do the same along with you.

However, it flickers. Oh, how it flickers. Like a flame just looking for a little encouragement to grow, it flickers and sparks and waits for the opportunity to shine. Unlike many adults, children don’t necessarily need to shine in front of others or with the purpose of recognition, or even allow their flame to grow at all. Sometimes, they just flame away without even thinking about it and move on. Such simple love and kindness.

I’ve seen this happen repeatedly in my life. Often during my time with my son and his friends and during my time in the school system. A few weeks ago, I saw it during a warm evening at the ballpark.

I was standing in line for one of the forty or so gatorades I buy every year at the concession stand when I saw him: the blonde little boy in front of me who was patiently waiting his turn. He couldn’t have been more than 8, at most, and was clutching three dollars. It was a school night and his eyes looked tired and sad. It was approaching 9 and he must have been at one of the early games and stayed for a sibling game.

I saw his eyes scan the menu. Hamburgers, Chicken (our stand serves Chik-fil-a!), hot dogs, french fries, sodas, energy drinks and many various candies. His little blonde head nodded slightly downward as he looked at the canisters in the front of the stand. Air heads, $0.25. Ring pops, $0.75. Tips for good service, please. Condiments. Napkins. Forks.

He looked carefully back to the menu and then to the canisters again and softly said, “French Fries, please.” The boy at the counter said, “Sure, kid. Anything else?” The little boy looked down at the canisters again, looking hard at the ring pops, and I saw him swallow. “No, no thank you.” He handed the concession stand worker his two dollars and waited for his french fries. They came promptly. He smiled, said thank you and deposited his $1 in the tip canister.

Generosity of spirit can be found in the most unexpected places. I am a lucky woman to find it in so many.

It never occurred to me that the people I’d left along the way weren’t really gone. For the longest time I was such a black and white thinker that I’d written those relationships off as lost to me.

And then I found Facebook. Because I’m an introvert, social networking draws me like flies to honey. I can speak to people quickly and efficiently, which also hits my firstborn tendencies, and feel like I’m connecting without losing the energy that I lose in face-to-face interaction.

And then I started exploring.

And found the little girl from down the farm road that I used to play with often. I road my green bike with the banana seat to her house frequently. And not only did she remember me, but she was delighted to hear from me. We still had the connection that we had even then.

And I found the first friends I had when I finally started elementary school. And then those when I moved to a new town.

I found my first group of friends from middle school. We were so close for those four years. It was like we picked up where we left off. The best friendships are always like that, aren’t they?

I found my high school best friends and my college best friends. I found people who weren’t best friends, but that I like more as adults than I did as children. They have grown into amazing people that I love.

Through other social networking sites I have found people that I love more and more each day.

For me, I think it was just a reminder that, though there are times I feel alone and have certainly felt alone in the past, I never was. They were with me. They missed me. They were there.

And they still are.

Perverts. I’m not telling you about that. It was a special moment and you can go make your own.

The brown-eyed girl smiled and took his hand. From the other room, she heard his friend yell, “Did you kiss her yet? Have you asked her out? Is it official? C’mon man, I don’t have all night. Just do it!” She laughed and blushed, as did he.

Days turned to weeks and over the winter holiday they spent much time together. They had the same group of friends, so they were able to spend time apart without it overwhelming them or feeling threatened, as so many do at that age. However, they found it hard to find time alone and decided to get creative.

Just outside of town was a farm area that sat atop a hill and next to a wooded area. The snow was crisp and she would slowly pull her crimson colored car to the edge of the woods. He would sit on the hood of her car and she would lean against him as he held her. They would make up stories of wolves and ax-men and all of the things that might be in the woods. Really, it was an excuse to look at the stars and the trees and the beautiful, snow covered hilly area. Never in her life had the brown-eyed girl been happier.

However, all good things must come to an end. At the end of the holiday vacation, Green eyes called her. It was clear from the tone of his voice that he’d been crying. He told her that his father had been relocated and that they were moving in less than a month.

She was crushed. She was losing him just as she’d found him. She was also losing her best friend.

Their parents were very supportive; Perhaps moreso than they should be have been in a situation with teenagers so young. You don’t need to know the details, but they tried to make it work. They tried desperately, but with over 600 miles separating them, and before free nights and weekends, it was not possible to maintain the relationship. Reluctantly, the brown-eyed girl said good-bye.

Both moved on and found happiness elsewhere, but years later, with the accessibility of the internet, found one another again. The brown-eyed girl was newly married and the green-eyed boy was, again, miles and miles away. They agreed to keep in touch.

And they do.

Some connections remain, regardless of time and circumstance.

He was into alternative music and she loved mainstream pop. He embraced the baggy clothes style of the mid-90s and she was a prep through and through. He was quiet and sweet-natured and she was outgoing and acerbic, though, later, she would realize that her true self was also quiet, as well. What they had in common, however, was their ability to just be together and enjoy the company of each other.

The girl liked the boy, but because he was friends with the boy she’d dated, she didn’t allow herself to feel everything she wanted to feel for him. One night, they drove around their small town and stopped by a store. There were beaded bracelets that came with the comment that if you made a wish on them and placed them around your wrist, when they fell off, your wish would come true. The boy, with a sparkle in his eye, suggested that the girl get the one in green. It matched his eyes exactly.

She shyly bought the bracelet and made a wish. Not for him, but that she would feel loved. There were many days in that time that she didn’t. She placed it around her wrist and waited. It was October.

A month came and went and the two remained friends. She showed him the places that she liked to go when she needed quiet and they did the things teenagers do. They went out and explored private property that had warnings like “If we catch you, we will shoot first and ask questions later.” They weren’t the smartest teenagers in the world. They explored places like cornfields and lay on their backs looking at the stars. He gave her piggyback rides through the rows and she laughed like a child.

One day, the two were at a school assembly and were, of course, sitting together as they always did. They were the best of friends and their other friends had noticed that they had become consumed by one another. In the middle of the assembly, she felt a tug on her wrist. The green bracelet fell off her wrist and she looked up into his bright green eyes. He smiled his easygoing grin and removed his hand from her wrist. “Now,” he said, “whatever you wished can come true.”

She blushed, because she was the shy sort at that time, and looked away. She may have mumbled something like, “We’ll see” and left it at that. He asked her to come over later that night and she replied that she would after her homework. When she got to his house, he was going down the hill on his makeshift snowboard with one of his friends. The powdery snow coated everything, like a wintery fairyland.

As she watched them go down the hill, she began to grow cold and couldn’t prevent her teeth from chattering. He walked up to her and softly moved the hair from her face and put his arms around her to pull her close. This wasn’t something new to her. He often held her close, as friends do. Something felt different about this time. He put his head into the small of her neck and told her that after the last run they would go inside and talk.

However, as anyone who has tried to snowboard realizes, the inexperienced often fall and he tumbled hard. As the wind was knocked out of him, she was already sliding down the slippery hill towards him, as was his friend. When she got to him, he laughed. She took his hand, helped him up and they went inside.

Of course, with the excitement of a new relationship, the girl and the boy chose to canoe together, against the sage advice of the adults in the group. A man that the girl loved and respected very much warned her that the relationship wouldn’t last the weekend if they sat in that canoe. She smiled, hugged him and sat down with a smile. Because he loved her like a father, he kept his mouth shut and said no more.

All of the teenagers in the group knew the girl couldn’t swim well. She could keep her head above the water when necessary, but beyond that, she would have difficulty. Luckily, the boy could swim well and he assured her that if the canoe tipped, he would be well equipped to save her from danger. She trusted the boy and picked up her paddle and began to stroke. She never anticipated anything bad would come from the day. The sun was shining and she and the boy were doing well.

Until 2 hours later when conversation began to get heated. The boy had difficulty paddling and the girl was exasperated with this as her steering was flawless. The water was entering a difficult passage of particularly deep water and the girl was getting nervous with the amount of rocking in the canoe. The boy had begun to paddle with choppy strokes, due to his frustration, and the girl looked at the water with trepidation. She begged him to calm down, but he snapped at her and she snapped back at him and then…

She was in the water. It was cold and she couldn’t touch the bottom. She opened her eyes, though the water was muddy and she couldn’t see anything except a tree branch directly in front of her eyes. It was at that moment that she felt the branch grasping her ankle. She thrashed her head to the left and to the right, and realized she was in trouble when she saw the large tree to her right. She tried to move upward and, as she hit her head, she realized that she was under the canoe and her breath was running out. She jerked on her ankle over and over and couldn’t move. She heard shouting and realized that there were people coming for her, but they couldn’t find her and they might be too late. She’d had dreams of drowning, but never anticipated it to be like this. As her breath ran out and she began to feel dizzy, she twisted her ankle free and kicked away from the tree.

As she came up for air, the first thing she saw was the boy. He was laughing. As this was a very strong-willed girl, her best friend stood between them as the girl was going to go show him exactly what she thought of him. Her friend said that the boy had rocked the canoe on purpose, and that he hadn’t realized she was stuck beneath the canoe. The sage father-figure was right. The relationship was over and the boy’s life nearly ended that day.

As such, the girl no longer trusted the boy, for good reason, and could no longer canoe with him as the urge to end him was strong. She needed a new partner to canoe and she needed someone who was even tempered and who would not attempt to drown her for laughs. A quiet boy, cousin to her best friend, volunteered with a “Hey, y’all, I’ll switch canoes. You don’t even have to paddle unless we need to turn a corner. As long as you talk to me and keep me company, I’ll do all the work.”

Sold.

Randy (not the boy’s real name) was a farm boy from a town about 70 miles away from where the girl lived. The girl had grown up on a farm, but had moved to a less rural area about 4 years earlier. She took a shine to his cheekiness and gladly hopped in his canoe. They were carrying one of the coolers, so his flipping the canoe seemed unlikely. There was something about him that seemed genuine and kind and she trusted him.

They talked all day. Early in the conversation, Randy looked at the girl and said, “By gosh, I think yer a real city girl, aren’t ya?” She laughed and said, “I’m no redneck, that’s for sure.” And City Girl and Redneck were born. City Girl kept her end of the bargain and paddled when necessary. Redneck used his farm boy muscles and paddled the whole way without complaint. Conversation never lagged and the canoe moved smoothly through the water.

Throughout the rest of the weekend, they stuck together like peas and carrots. Though they had little in common besides their ability to talk to one another freely and without judgment, the weekend went smoothly. As 15-year olds did, at the time, they exchanged addresses and telephone numbers. They did not have email and Redneck wouldn’t have used it if they did. He was too busy rebuilding cars and spending time with his faithful dog. City girl was technologically stupid.

They wrote back and forth for several years, but, as time often does, it got the better of them. They saw each other last when the sage father figure passed from a particularly malevolent form of cancer. The girl was broken-hearted. As she walked into the dinner hall, for the family meal, as she was considered family, she saw him. He walked up to her and hugged her tightly and held her. Then he softly held her back, looked her up and down, smiled that Redneck grin and said, “CITY GIRL! How the hell are ya?”

Yes, time moves forward, but out there in the universe are a Redneck and City Girl. Both are married with children and not to one another. It never would have worked because it’s not how it was supposed to be. But City Girl looks at a letter and a picture of a boy next to an old car and a dog, often, and smiles when she remembers how a Redneck gained her trust and her lifelong friendship.

And they both lived Happily Ever After.

The End.

P.S. None of these pictures are the picture the City Girl has of the Redneck. She’s saving that one all to herself.

I remember the terror I felt the first time I realized that he no longer had the baby scent.

And then the first time he smelled. I mean really smelled. As in “go take a shower you smell.”

And the first time he actually met my mouth instead of my chin or my nose when he gave me a kiss.

And all the small things that I find myself now terrified of losing: his hand when he crosses the street, the goodnight kisses, when he falls asleep in our bed–his little hand searching for my shoulder and the sweet smiles in his sleep when I say his name and tell him I love him, the first time he’s embarrassed when I tell him I love him in front of his friends, or the first time he doesn’t rush to greet me when he comes home from school.

Every stage of his life has been my favorite. He’s my favorite. He’s always been my favorite. No one makes me laugh as hard as him. He has my sense of humor. Of course I’m going to think he’s hilarious. He’s thoughtful and serious and sensitive and laughs at fart jokes because they are hysterical. They are. I don’t care what you think. THEY ARE HYSTERICAL. Prudes.

I don’t know how to let him go. But I will because I love him with quiet desperation and care. And the day will come when he has to let me go, too. Loving someone means that you will eventually feel the loss that comes with letting go. And I’m scared to death.

When AJ had his Kentucky incident, I didn’t think. I smacked Leon to get his attention and then I ran. I haven’t ran in years, but I ran to him. I couldn’t help him or make him better, but he needed me and I needed to be with him.

When the people we love are in trouble, we react quickly and emotionally.

Recently, I was watching footage of the Dallas motorcade with JFK and Jackie and I reacted to it rather strongly. Warning: Graphic language coming.

I’ve probably watched the grainy footage from Dallas 100 times in my 30 years. I’ve noticed many things about it and have looked at it from various mental angles. However, this particular time, when I watched it, what kept coming back to me was that Jackie reacted quickly and instinctively to keep Jack safe. I have no idea what the state of their marriage was. By all accounts, it was not the most functional, but whose is? However, she recovers from shock quickly and scrambles to the back of a moving car to grab pieces of his brain matter and then pulls him down to keep him safe.

Brain matter isn’t like a finger or a toe. You can’t sew it back on. Once Jack was hit and it was exposed, it was gone. He was gone.

When the people we love are in trouble, we react quickly and emotionally.

It wasn’t rational to scramble across a moving vehicle when bullets were flying around her, but love motivates people to do things they wouldn’t otherwise do. It gives us strength to do things that we don’t know we can.

I’m in awe of its power. Always and completely.

Yes, they do.

Scrapping with one another, baring those little fangs, biting ankles and pushing their fat little bodies against one another for “prime couch real estate.”

But when the sun goes down, and the house goes quiet and the boy child goes to sleep and the man drifts off…it’s just them and mommy and reruns on tv…they let down their hair.

Tear down the wall. Break that sucker down. I attribute it all to the magic blanket. That and they secretly adore each other, but don’t let them hear it. They will immediately start chewing each others ears and hiding toys.

Little stinkers

It broke my heart. The only thing that kept me from bawling my eyes out was that I am expected to keep professional decorum in the classroom. Little boys, aged 9 according to the narrative, were placed on opposite sides of a make-shift ring (on a basketball court) and held back by older boys. They were then told to go at each other and chided when they didn’t. I was watching these babies beat the crud out of each other and, with every hit, I felt a piece of my heart die. At the end of the fight, when an older boy gleefully proclaimed “Knock out!” and one 9-year old jumped up and down and the other cried his little boy eyes out, I felt physically ill. The loser was then heckled for not being stronger and tougher. He was slumped in a corner and was hurting and all I could see was my 8-year old’s face and build in this little guy.

He was just a little guy.

I understand that they are teaching them adaptive skills for where they are living. It kills me that they have to do so.

He’s just a little guy.

When A.J. skins his knee, he winces and I want to hold him. This little one got punched and kicked and beat down. I cannot imagine what his life is like.

Life isn’t fair. It just isn’t. Boys are growing too fast in these areas. They are being groomed for a life that is so far beyond what they should have to deal with and what they are capable of handling. Maybe I need to grow a thicker skin and face reality because I suppose that I’ve been naive as to what is happening out in the world. There is a part of me that wants to save them them all. The realist in me realizes I can’t. It’s a helpless feeling.

He’s just a little guy…