Little little me…
Was afraid of the dark…not sure why…lived in a tiny five room house…no basement…no closets…those brothers and I…slept in the same room… Right after the move…remember padding through the shadows…to the other bedroom…Blankie and me…curled up on the end of the full bed…willing that mother of mine to wake…tuck me in beside her…tell me…it would be…ok…wishful little me…lay there all night…hugging Blankie…cold…afraid…of noises…the dark…of possible…retribution… Morning came…the tiny little guest…disregarded…ignored…as if she wasn’t there at all…this went on…three nights…three nights in a row…cold me…scared me…lonely me…curled at the end of the bed…no mention of it…until there came a…well I guess you’ll just have to sleep with me then… Thirty five years later…in the dark of night…mama me…woke up…every time little girl feet…padded into the room… Every…time…every…single…time… And so it was…that heart…of little little me…lying dormant in mama me…broke…just a little…felt cold…sad…alone…with the realization…that it wasn’t an accident…a fluke…just happenstance…that scared little me…desperately in search of a mother’s love…lay there cold…sad…alone… But this…only makes mama me…love those daughters of mine…even more… And those beautiful ladies…who never slept through the night…would agree…
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This old gal…
Grew up in house without a shower…hair was washed…in the kitchen sink…pull up a chair…little knees kneel on the seat…lean into the white ceramic bowl…bottle of shampoo on the counter to the right…Breck Crème rinse diluted…in what now old gal me recognizes…as a hobnail milk glass coffee cup… Grown up hands…midst shampoo…four year old me…eyes squeezed tight…soapy water in the face…whined…one lone owwwwww…as the sting of the suds…hit the eye…in one swift move…the chair flew…little me…flew with it… Curled on the couch…ice over the goose egg…where head hit the stove…that grandma of mine…hovering near…the shampooer…wailing behind the bathroom door…thoughts of a four year old…not on the injustice of the throw…but instead…at the guilt…of the little me…who caused it all…shouldn’t have whined…it didn’t hurt that bad…you need to be tough…keep quiet… The guilt…the shame…of that day…a haunt…a specter…impacting the me…little me…would become…be brave…be strong…be tough…be quiet…don’t whine…complain…give others the power…to instill guilt…in you…for just being…you… But things…have a way…of working themselves out…those daughters of mine…freeing their mama…saying we care…when you hurt…feel sad…go ahead…and whine…all you want…that husband of mine…acknowledging every backache…headache…chipped fingernail…with an…oh honey…it will be ok… And it is…ok…more than ok…to feel safe…to feel heard…to feel those restraints of guilt…becoming loose…slack…letting go… And that husband of mine…agrees… This old gal…
Was reading a book…her Mr. resting nearby…tell me a story…he said…about when you were little…I like hearing your voice when you tell stories…it helps me rest… I can tell you what I’ve been thinking …came the response from his lovely bride…about three things in the life of little me…that impacted…my life journey…not particularly cheery or calming…it would seem…but got the thumbs up anyway…and so…here it was… Three incidences…events…whatevers…weigh heavily on the heart…of little me…not just little me…but little little me…like 4 or 5 year old me… That innocent attempt…at comfort…that horrifying hug…instilled fear…fear of that adult in her life…fear of the unknown…fear…of closeness…of trust…of love… Hair washing time…head deep in the sink…stuff happens…awareness sets in…that distress…or any negative emotion…must be tucked away…hidden…tamped down…otherwise guilt…will prevail… Little little me…was frightened of the dark…so afraid …terrified…but learned…she was alone…achingly alone…in the pitch black that surrounded her…those brothers of hers were there…but they…were just as alone…as she… And then…there it was…the snoring…quietly at first…but gaining momentum…that lullaby of a haunting tale by that wife of his…lulling the listener to sleep…time to go back to that book of mine…turn off the past…escape in the text…leave those stories untold…The Shampoo…The Dark… For another day… And this husband of mine if he were awake…would agree… This husband and I…
Stopped at the town…in the Hill Country…where he lived when he was little…not really a town anymore…the country store gone…along with the post office…the cotton gin…the house where Little Mr lived…replaced with a trailer… See this land…where the rain washed it downhill…he says…after a downpour…there would be run off like this…coming from under our house…we would run outside…and in the dirt we would find coins…Indian head pennies…buffalo nickels…Barber dimes… Story goes…the area was well traveled…by bad guys…shady characters…bank robbers…it was speculated…that perhaps an injured outlaw on the run…may have hidden his loot…somewhere…in the house…intending to retrieve it later…but as fate would have it…the bandit…succumbed to the injury…and was unable…to return for the goods… Could never find the source…but after that Papo of theirs put some of the coins away…excited little hands…would take their treasure…across the street to the old store…and buy…a piece of candy…nothing’s really changed…my Mr says…looking at what’s left of the town…through grown up eyes…rattlesnakes…dung beetles…the culvert where we played…the strong aroma…of the spring blossoms… Things change…but stay the same…buildings all but gone…but the essence…the soul…the spirit of the place… Still feels…like home… And that husband of mine…agrees… This husband of mine…
Loves to watch horror movies…his lovely bride tries to read while doing so…always ends up tho…one eye on the book…one ear engaged in the show…soon enough…reading me gets sucked in…suddenly realizing one of the terrorized is gone…there comes a little pleading…some eyelash batting…a request for a rewind…so not paying attention me…can watch…the untimely death scene… Which brings us to a stop…at a quirky antique shop…cute on the outside…but one step in…we might just be…in our own little horror flick…floating heads…crazy coons…dancing ladies…imagination run wild me…lights off…creepy music on…has a feeling…a bad feeling…goosebumps galore… But horror movie expert me…knows how these things work…spies a stick in the corner…if a ghoul just so happens…to pop up out of nowhere…down he goes…with one swift wallop…but instead of dropping the stick…and crying like a fool…like every woman in every creepy movie seen…this old gal…is grabbing that man of hers… And getting the horror out of there… This little shop…was so unique…so fun…admission should be charged… And this husband of mine…agrees… This old gal…
Is married to her own old man version…of Bill Nye the Science Guy…every grand adventure…brings with it…a delightful science lesson…the tidbit info king…chatting along…pointing out this and that…to which his eager student takes note…Google searching to verify seemingly ridiculous claims…or to learn…just a little bit more… Skilled teaching strategies are used as well…him feigning ignorance…resulting in student me snapping a pic…searching for info later…and sharing it…with the class…what are those piles of little mud balls…worm pooh…how about that tree with no bark…Texas Persimmon…how can you tell how old this rattle snake is…the number of segments on the rattle… And then…there it was…the discovery of this old lifetime…beetles…rolling a small brown ball…moving that thing across the hard ground like there was no tomorrow...OMG…student me called out…come see this…are those…dun dun duuun…dung beetles… Never seen one…studied one…can’t remember hearing much about one…but my Bill Nye the Science Guy…proud as proud can be…shared all the yummy little tidbits about this delightful creature…and that brown ball they were rolling… And then dismissed the class…for lunch… And student me…agreed… This husband of mine…
Is not a big social bug…comfortable with friends and family…but doesn’t talk to every Tom Dick and Harry…like that chatty bride of his…so this old gal…was taken aback…with the suggestion…that we just drop in on a friend from the past…while in the heart of Texas… Got his address from his brother in Iowa…had driven by his place last year but didn’t stop…even this old gal…chatty Kathy that she is…isn’t the kind…to just drop in…when she happens to be…in the state…a knock on the door…that husband of mine greeted by…a whoop…a holler…a handshake and back slap…no pause…no hesitation…this friend knew my Mr… After 50 years… Their families travelled together…from Texas to Iowa…working in the fields…over time some stayed in one place…some stayed in the other…they chatted…laughed…reminisced…he’s retired…lives with his daughter…still has his cool old truck…still plays accordion…but that cursed arthritis…slowing things down a bit… They exchanged numbers…promised to get together…next time their paths are near…it was a beautiful thing to watch…a friendship…withstanding the test of time… Who are your people…who shared a part of your past…made an impact…made a difference…it’s never too late…to reach out…touch base…say…hello… And this husband of mine…agrees… This old gal…
Felt a little lost…in that cabin…on the rock hunting ranch…not because it was out in the middle of nowhere…nothing but stones and cacti as far as the eye could see…but because…when old rock hounds us settled down for the night…the ritual of aimlessly scrolling through social media to unwind…was not to be had… Cuz a rock hunting ranch…in the middle of the hill country…in the middle of nowhere…has no…internet reception…it was expected…but still…two full days without the internet…was more difficult than one would think…can’t believe how many times curious me searches for information… That shiny stuff in the rock…is that mica…it could be mica…let’s snap a pic and Google search to see if it’s mica…the weather…for the drive home…let’s check it…make a plan…the old gal thumb tapping that cloudy sun icon again…and again…and again… Social media scrolling…kind of nice to be unplugged…gave this old gal time…to sit back…relax…think about what’s important…what’s really…important… Family…friends…cats…rock hounds…those daughters of mine…who for some reason…while relaxing over coffee…seemed so close by…in that cabin…on that rock hunting ranch…in the middle of nowhere… And those ladies of mine…would agree… This old gal…
Spent hours…sifting through tons and tons…of little pink pebbles…in search of a pretty piece of topaz…or a stunning quartz crystal…where are you my little treasures…she thought as she dug and dug and dug…where are you hiding… And no sooner had that question popped in her head…than another…louder…and more clearly…spoke…look around…old gal…what do you see… A delightful bluebonnet…in the middle of a dried up creek…lone Mr. Cactus…emerging from the ragged rock…a bridge of a tree…marking your way…petrified wood…the colors of the rainbow…the first blooms of spring…stunning and bold…that husband of yours…sharing this adventure… Treasure…is in the eye of the beholder… no need to search…no need to hunt…open your heart…open your eyes…and look… Seek…and you…shall find… And this husband of mine…agrees… This husband and I…
Burlap sack in tow…made our annual on the way home pilgrimage…to the rock hunting ranch in the hill country…not sure why…lack of communication…assumption that this old gal can read her Mr.’s mind…but rock hunting us…emerged with different rock hunting goals… This old gal…thought the search was for the elusive topaz…arrowheads…quartz crystals…the other hunter in our party…had different plans…bring a little bit of Texas…back for a rock garden…at Little Cottage…one of us…leisurely sifted fine little pebbles…while the other…took on a project of grand proportion… Mica glittering in the sun…layers of the rock calling out…nothing was going to stop…that rock hound of mine…from getting that behemoth…for the garden…we dug…pried…scraped…left and bought tools at an antique shop for a lever…hours later…we were good to go… This old gal suggested a bucket with a handle be used for transport…or perhaps a plastic tote…but no…the rocks in the sack…would be maneuverable…take up less space…which wasn’t much space at all…cuz rocks are heavy…like super duper heavy…couldn’t carry more than enough for the most minuscule future rock garden… But…Tweedle Dee and Tweedle Dum…each favoring their good arm…grabbed that burlap sack…all a morphing and a flopping…the sack that is… And pretty much…rocked it… And this rock hound of mine…agrees… |
This Old Gal
Devoted Wife Magical Mom Retired Teacher Embracing life's grand adventures with humor and grace. Archives
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