~Thought For The Day~ I Threw My Bottle Away~ ©

     Tonight while I was showering I began thinking of something and I feel it is finally time to share it with the world. I have told no one. Not one soul. It has been my personal, little secret and after much thought I think I understand the meaning and where to go from here.

Shortly before my Mom passed away, she wanted to go with my cousin shopping. She said she was able, and I couldn't refuse her. I helped her with her hair, carefully watching her face; she seemed so pleased because she felt well enough to venture out on this warm, happy day.

She came back exhausted and so worn out, but that smile was still present. If you ever saw my Mama smile, you will understand that smile, if not then imagine the brightest, most heartwarming and genuine expression a person can exhibit, and when you saw it, you had to smile back, whether you wanted to or not.

I took her bags, and offered to put her to bed, she scoffed at my notion, she was so happy and upbeat, and the tiredness and illness seemed to be somewhere far away, even if just for a few minutes.

She carefully removed some odds and ends from the bags, this and this stuff, and then as always she said, “Tesi, close your eyes and open your hands.” Wow, just typing that makes me cry.

My Mother never had much, she gave everything she ever had to others, and if she didn't have material things, she gave of herself, but I must admit, I loved her surprises.

I felt 5 years old as I held out my hands and waited with joy at what she might have gotten me. Thirty something years old and here I was just giddy, because she knew me so well, and Lord only knows what it might be. It could be a frog statue, a coloring book, things you would never think of; she knew my quirks and always found a way to give me a little something to make me smile.

I felt her slide into my hands.

Bless her heart.

A bottle of vanilla body wash; “Hey Ma, you think I stink?” I chuckled.

“No baby, you have been so busy taking care of me, I thought you might like a favorite scent and a nice, long shower to make you feel better.”

See there, even as she was dying, she was thinking of someone else.

She allowed me to help her into her pajamas and then forced me to grab everything I needed for an extended stay in the shower.

I remember letting the water wash all around me, I wanted to drink it; I felt my cares banish momentarily. I snapped open that bottle and out poured that scent that I love so much, I held it and smelled some more. I smelled so good when I scampered back to her room to check on her.

She was smiling from ear to ear. I leaned over her frail body, and just like when I was a little girl she said “You smell clean!” We both laughed, and before I could say anything else she began brushing my long hair, getting it ready for braiding.

I think for a few minutes I was that little girl, I closed my eyes, and let my other senses be my sight, her hands working behind me, the smell of vanilla all around us and the sound of her telling me something but instead of listening I was inhaling the moment. I was back in time for a brief time and I wanted to treasure every second.

Two months later I found myself standing in her shower, crying my eyes out. She was gone. This time the water stung my skin, and I think I was so numb that I wouldn't have felt it if the burns we that of the third degree. I didn't want to come out, I wanted to wash this away and let it go. I wanted to run to her room, see her there, hop on the bed and let her braid my hair. She was gone.

Ever since that hot July day in 2011 when my Mama left this earth I have been lugging around that bottle of vanilla body wash. For a long while I carried it with barely two drops inside, and I think I breathed those in so it became empty.

I just couldn’t let it go. I tucked in everywhere I went, I remember being up late at night, after the boys had gone to bed, holding that bottle, closing my eyes, running both hands around it, memorizing every plastic piece, holding it to my nose, and trying to breathe some more life out of it.

The last thing she ever gave me. I may sound completely insane, and maybe I am, but that simple bottle gave me comfort. I guess to me, as long as I had it, something she touched, her gift to me, that I had not truly let her go and it gave me some comfort many days when I felt my whole world was over and shattered beyond repair.

When we moved this last time, I threw the bottle away. I finally let it go. Tonight as I stood there in her shower, about to make more changes in my life it dawned on me what I was doing and what I need to do now.

I cried tonight, I let go, not just of the bottle, but I let her go, I let her have the peace she needed so much. She always told me not to cry for her when she was gone; that my crying was for myself because she wasn’t here in physical form.

That bottle of vanilla scented joy represents so many things. I was holding on to something that could never bring her back, and honestly the way the world is, I wouldn't if I could. That bottle may be gone but the scent will linger with me all of my days.

She wouldn't want me to be held back, she always wanted me to soar, and as I embark upon a new endeavor, I won’t be armed with my worn out body wash bottle, I have something greater, I have the scent, the memory and the strength in my wings to set out and do what I promised, to change this world, and ultimately be happy.

I threw my bottle away, but the scent is just as strong now as the day we stood together and smelled it side by side. She never left; her memory, her legacy, her love, and her scent live on in me.

Here are my thoughts.

©

Teresa

Insomnia Induced Thoughts! Brought to you by: School Glue and Pancakes ©

I have found that within the last year I have developed a problem with insomnia. No, I don’t have anything against it personally but I do suffer from bouts of it pretty often.

Being the type of person that is constantly thinking I have now formed a routine when I go through these periods of not sleeping. I try reading, but that makes it worse, because then everything  I read I catch myself going back and reading over what I just read, sometimes just to see If I can catch a spelling error on the part of a major publisher.

If that isn’t bad enough, I tend to read the oddest, most unusual books I can get my hands on and at 2:30 am I am either trying to decide if some quack doctor who published a book is reasonable is his thoughts that we can cure anything with water and that if I take a cold shower or sit in an arctic bath all my cares and worries will dissipate. For the record I personally think that my sitting in a tub full of ice cubes at 3:00 am did nothing for me except make me wonder how I let my life reach this point.

Another favorite night time read is the home remedies, folk lore and successful chicken raising book I acquired from an unknown source. This should not be introduced to my brain in the wee hours of morning because my thought pattern makes me think that now I need to eat ground oyster shells to lay eggs and the common cure for a chicken’s cold is an onion poultice. So needless to say here, I shouldn’t attempt to read late at night to make myself fall asleep.

Now I bring you to my current activity that I indulge in as the insomnia monster and I wrestle around.

I make lists.                           

                                         

I have always been that person who makes a list for everything, groceries, to do stuff, and various other helpful reminder types of deals but let night fall and my eyes are open, lying in bed I find that I construct the strangest list of things ever to be pondered. I think since at present I am suffering from sleeplessness that I will share some of my bizarre lists. After reading these you will either think I am very off my rocker or you will nod in agreement because I make valid points.

Questions I Ask Myself:

1.     ~  Do people still use toasters? Honest to God, two slotted machines that deliver pretty brown goodness on both sides of the bread or do they opt for a multipurpose kitchen appliance to save on shelving and functionality?

2.      ~ How does Icy Hot work? It boggles my mind, it goes on cold, and I mean really cold and then it packs a very smelly, very heated punch. Who created this clever substance that I wear frequently?

3.     ~  Why when people are comparing two very different things use the reference “That’s like comparing apples to oranges.” I must disagree, they both are from the fruit family, they have skins, and they are roundish in shape and can be found in the same department in the grocery store. How about this, “That’s like comparing apples to tractor tires.” I find that to be a much better contrast.  

4.       ~Why do people say the word “syrup” two different ways? They either call it “SEARup” or “SIRup”. I myself lean to the “sir”up pronunciation because it just sounds sweeter when you ask someone to grab it from the fridge or pass it to you across the table. In my opinion saying “SEAR”up just sounds hateful and who wants to sound mad and hateful over breakfast. “SIR”UP just seems to flow right over the butter and down around the batter to form a prettier breakfast environment.

5.       ~

Why would I ever buy a product to apply to my body that is labeled bag balm to soften and sooth my skin? Lie to me. Tell me it is goddess milk and I am all good, I really can’t with a straight face go to a cash register and seem excited because I have rough skin and I am about to go home and slather up with bag balm and feel the least bit attractive afterwards. I would feel more violated than anything else.

Now let us venture into the strange assortment list that I make of things I want to and think I need to do at some point in my life.

1.      ~ Apply school glue to my hands and watch it dry, then carefully peel it off and pretend my hand is emerging from new skin. (Check this off, did it, and will again.)

2.     ~  This one I have mentioned before, getting dreadlocks. I want this to happen somewhere in my life.  Not Bo Derek braids with beads but true dreads that will either look wickedly cool on me or , give me the appearance of the Muppet Show puppet that never really caught on and worked behind the scenes.

3.       ~Make a list of new words that are highly unheard of but do exist and use them in my every day life. (Oh look, a list within a list.)

4.      ~ Finally capture lightning bugs on film; I have taken so many pictures, just knowing that this time I at long last captured the gorgeous light of these whimsical creatures in pictures, instead of uploading only to find 75 photos of pure blackness. I will get you lil bugs, you wait and see!

5.      ~ Build a house out of recycled and natural materials (ex. Hay bales, tires and walls made of wine bottles). I attribute this notion to the books mentioned earlier.

6.       ~Start wearing socks on my hands when I go to bed. Hear me out here. I looked down the other day and although my birthday was only a month ago, I have noticed that in that short time period I have developed hands that look 40. This can’t happen. So I guess I will coat them liberally with bag balm and slap my fuzzy socks on there and come morning I should have more youthful skin or perhaps I will have grown utters, smooth, velvety  utters mind you.

There you have it folks, some of the bizarre places my mind goes when I am staring at the ceiling in the dark. Oh yes, I forgot to add, I need a pair of night vision goggles.

I could write on for another hour, but I am suddenly craving an apple, so I better have one before I attempt to apply Icy Hot to my bum shoulder with my udder gloves, I mean fuzzy socks on my hands.

Good Night, Good Morning.

 ©

Teresa

~Thought For The Day~ Make That Change! ©

Yesterday, I sat simply but quite contently on the front porch talking with my oldest son. We shared laughs, smiles, and exchanged some very witty remarks. Our conversation then drifted to a more serious nature. I watched him speak, and even though our topic was that of the condition of our country right now, I found myself smiling because I watched the fire in his eyes, the passion of his beliefs rolling from his tongue as If he had lived twice my age.
Last night, I found myself outside once again with now my youngest son, recapping his day, his report card, the oddity of what they do in gym class these days, and a few stories of our own personal klutzy moments. As with my other son, our line of conversation went to that of more sober subject matter.

Both my children are very different, but looking back at the time spent yesterday conversing I see a united thought from both of them and I beam with pride. They both share a very educated view and perspective of what the world needs, wise beyond their years and they practice it as well.

As Luke went about his routine this morning before school, I found myself still pondering the thoughts he and his brother had shared with me, and as I attempted to assist in making his natural curly hair stay in place, I began talking about a solution to the problems of this world.

I know some people think I am some free spirited, free love, new age hippie, and well, you might be right but I do have stance and take on the happenings as of late.
As we did a back pack check, and headed for the door, I looked at Luke and said, “You know, people think they can’t change the world, so they just follow along, but we all can at least change our own world.”
Right up until he jolted on the bus, smile intact and a trailing “I love you too Mama”, we talked over our theory of how to make a change and why in its simplicity it can’t be put into action.

In the early 1930’s my grandparents met, and they faced a huge obstacle for that time period. They lived almost an hour apart. There was no email; car travel on a daily basis was for the wealthy, phone calls, yeah right. People left their doors unlocked and Sunday was for “visiting” after church.
How did they ever make it? They wrote letters to each other. I have read them, and it touches me so deeply to have read the words that led to my existence upon the earth.
I found such beauty in their words, the playfulness, the polite way he would tell her how pretty she was or call her a pet name, and his promises that if he got paid and found a ride he would meet her at the church singing. In fact in one letter he writes, “I am going to come up there Sunday and asked your Daddy for your hand in marriage.” Her feisty response thrills me, “Well now Walter Reeder, maybe you should ask me first!”
Letter after letter, visit after visit they found a true love, and their life together began, but it took effort and time.
I still remember partaking in the old fashioned ritual of “visiting”, not exclusively on Sunday, but going with Mom and Mimi to see a neighbor who was ill, a friend in need or just someone we knew to sit on the porch with and talk to for no reason other than to be social and kind. As a child I used to roam around the neighborhood and stop and see people, some I am sure I wore out my welcome with but that act still delights me to this day.

In this day and time we are fueled by greed, power and the need for easy, speedy access to whatever it is we desire. We don’t take time for anything at all.
I hate drive thru windows, I hate self check outs, I hate automated systems, I want to see and talk to a person.
We are so consumed with rushing around and getting somewhere better and faster that we have lost sight here. We hurry by the pick up window for food, we drive quickly to the pharmacy and drive thru, we use the self check out at the big retailer to get out faster, and all the while we are texting and being social on our phones and laptops. We breeze in the door at home, the family goes in ten different directions, to the tv, the computer, the game system, and as the screen is the only light in our eyes we as a world have forgotten what we were in a hurry for; To sit in separate rooms and shut out our real world? What was the point of all that hurry? Oh I know, you needed to download a new app, or email someone without ever thinking of the personal touch, or to buy the newest device because you saw Todd at work with one and you will not rest until you have equal or better, or heaven forbid you might miss the sale online of some fashion must have.
There is unrest in our country because we practice unrest every single day in our daily lives. We don’t know what peace is, we have become machines who strive not to touch another or care and we are consumed with dollar amounts and whatever everybody else has.
If more people took the time to sit down at the family dinner table and engaged in conversation with their children, if more people would stop texting and drop by and visit someone, even toss a casserole in, if more people would slow down and pull up a rocking chair on the porch and get to know their neighbor or even their children, friends and spouses I think we would see a surge of change.

This week I was standing and talking with an old friend, and it came up that we no longer visit people, we don’t take time anymore to know someone. Why bother I guess, we can read about it on facebook, or shoot a quick message and call it done, but what did you gain? Ok so you know what they had for dinner and their current nail color, do you know if they are ok? Do know look them in the eyes and share a deep, hardy laugh? Nope.
Before you stress to me how vital email is, I will stop you, yes the internet is a wonderful tool but it can be misused much like my former coffee creamer addiction, anything can be replaced and right now we focus on convenience and lose sight of each other. I email, I do my social network thing, I am guilty too, BUT how do we stop this madness in our world, and yes I know what you are thinking. I am one person, I can’t change the whole world and you are exactly right, you can’t, but as I told Luke, you can change your little world.
Step away from the screen, put the game controller down, walk in the pharmacy, go visit a neighbor or friend, and I will dare you here, write someone a card or hand written letter. You will not only feel better about the world but you will put into practice the old fashioned values that our grandparents and great grandparents knew and the world was a much more simple, happy place.
If you want my address, ask and write me, I will gladly put my pen to work and write you back.

In order for us to escape this power tripping, out of control mess we live in, we have to put down the greed to win the Monopoly “Real Life” version and focus on how we ever got here. There is nothing better than an old fashioned visiting.
I don’t know what next month holds for me, heck even tomorrow, but if I take it day to day, and stop for a little while to indulge in simple rituals of our yesteryears, then I would say my future will turn out just fine. I know two young men who find goodness and delight in those rituals and that restore my faith in the future.
No you can’t change the whole big world, but you can change yours, you can change someone else’s and then it goes on and on in a continued ripple effect.
Big shocker here, we are all going to leave this earth at some point, be remembered by your family, your friends and your world by a legacy of simple grace and kindness, it will outlive the practice of someone who can only claim multiple houses, a powerful position and a fat bank account when they depart.
Also while you are at it, stop and thank those service people, our law enforcement, our fight fighters, our military and our paramedics for making it their job to give us the brightest life we can life and be shielded and protected from all the ugly and nasty they see every single day. Shake their hand, write THEM a letter and be thankful that we have a choice because of them to live our lives knowing someone is out there protecting us and they work for us to have the freedoms we participate in every single day.
Ok I am off my soap box for now, I will now go sit in the swing, wave at strangers and enjoy this gorgeous spring day, I urge you to do the same. Pull up a rocking chair and sway with me.
Make that change!
Here are my thoughts.
©
Teresa