Saturday, March 7, 2009

you don't have to call me darlin'

This friend of mine is one of those who feels compelled to call up when he's shitfaced drunk as a bicycle intoxicated and want to chat. I's my sign,duh. I've done the same to him and to a handful of others because evidently I felt brave enough to share my true feelings then. Not a good way to deal with things, but I think most everybody has done it, even if they didn't tell it later. Or remember dialing. Sort of like drunken blogging without a paper trail.

I sat on the porch awhile ago and wandered around looking at daffodils, quince and forsythia feeling the winds of March blow my hair around and I realized how truly blessed I am to have lived my life here on this farm. Raising my daughter to know how her mama was brought up was one of few line-drawn-in-the-sand goals as a new mother. That included some baggage that I had never shed until I saw myself as an adult through my relationship with her.

I used to beat myself up about all the important times that I missed because I had a good support system and always went to work. Many parents don't have that and their children raise themselves. Whenever I begin to worry that maybe I didn't do enough to "be there" for her, I look at who she is now and the fears go away quickly. I'm normally the farthest thing from proud as a gal can get, but what she has accomplished is phenomenal in the eyes of she and our family and affords me the luxury of relaxing now and then. Her generation will hopefully fix what is so terribly wrong with this world like mindless war and consumer whoreism at the expense of mother earth. whoreism even a word?

I can honestly say that I've never her face light up like quite it did the first time that she saw her baby cousin. We are very family oriented which is hard for those who aren't to understand sometimes. That was one of the biggest problems in my marriage, truth be known. He couldn't relate because he never had it, but the years that we were together with BG became a time for him to know something different. Not my work...that would be a high five for Big Ernie and the angels.

Ya'll pray for me. It's spring forward time and the sawmill calleth quite early.

Love ya. Mean it.


1 comment:

  1. Sigh, I wish that I could be there more for mine too. But realities are that the courts are still biased toward mothers and I'll have to do the best I can with the time I have. Colton had his 14th yesterday and I outdid myself this year. Made him a cake shaped like a guitar. Took him and his friends bowling, then for milkshakes. I think he liked it. Got him fishing rods too. Can't wait to get out and show him that too.
    Hugs and prayers.