I apologize for my silence over the last few days. My wedding anniversary really got to me this year and I have been wrestling with some pretty strong emotions for about a week. It does not help matters that I have finally gained enough weight to become a magnet for old men from the "hood," either. (Vulgar side note: It seems painfully obvious to my female friends from the "hood" that, because I do not understand losing all control of my wits for a man, I "ain't never had no good dick." Too funny!) So, sorry I have been absent for the past few days. Today, though, I have a short snippet from my life.
About 25 years ago, my parents moved into the house where they now live. I was a senior in high school. Well, when we finished moving, my mom went out looking for a new church to attend and found one she liked after some searching. She then began attending services and church functions in hopes of finding some kindred spirits with whom to make friends. One of the first functions she attended was some kind of pot luck dinner or something that involved food. Even though Dad and I attend a different church, she asked us to go with her to the function and we went.
Now remember: I was a senior in high school. I was the same age then that my daughter is now and I was just as determined and even more uninhibited. Knowing that my mom needed to make some new friends, I pretty much made a bee-line for the kitchen when I walked into the church for the potluck supper. There, I introduced myself to the ladies preparing food, stated my mother was new to the church, and asked if I could help. They graciously gave me something to do and began getting to know me. After a while, mom came into the kitchen to find me. I then introduced her to the new friends I had adopted for her. One of those ladies was named Gertie and she did become one of my mother's dear friends at the church.
Life went on. I graduated high school, then college, moved away and married (actually exchanging wedding vows with my husband in a private ceremony at my mom's church), moved out of State when my husband joined the Army, and so on. Now I am back living with my parents until my house is finished being renovated and I move into it this coming July. (Yippee!)
Today, my sister, who grew up in my mom's church, had a second reception there for all the people who could not make the drive to her wedding ceremony. In the wake of my solitary 19th wedding anniversary and no longer knowing any members of this church I do not even attend, I really was not in the mood to go to this second reception for my sister's wedding, but I went anyway because my mother had asked me to help with the lunch she was serving.
I stood near the dining room entrance as people would feel welcome to enter. One woman came over to me, introduced herself, stated that she had attended my sister's wedding and politely asked if I have a photographic memory. My jaw nearly hit the floor. This woman has obviously never heard any of my mother's stories about my recovery from head trauma or she would never have asked about my memory. I had no idea how to respond except to simply smile and say no. I am glad I was polite because she then paid me a tremendous compliment on the readings I did during my sister's wedding ceremony, saying it was obvious I knew all the words by heart. I am pretty sure I started to glow, right then and there, but as I talked to the lovely lady, an old woman approached to interrupt us.
"Do I know you?" the old woman asked. Eyes made larger by the glasses she wore, age spots speckled over folds of withered skin, she looked as if she was trying to remember if she knew my face.
I did not recognize her, either, so I replied, "I don't know. Do you? What is your name?"
"Gertie," she answered.
"Oh! Gertie!!" I exclaimed, throwing open my arms and giving her a huge hug. She received my hug hesitantly, but was already explaining that she did not see very well in her old age.
I got very close to her. "Can you see me better now?"
She nodded, but asked again, "Who are you?"
"I am Phyllis' older daughter, Beth."
Throwing back her head, mouth open and eyes crinkled up in a smile, Gertie exclaimed, "Oh! Beth!!" Then it was her turn to give me a bear hug, which I happily reciprocated.
"You are so beautiful!" she told me before she turned to her husband.
"Do you know who this is? This is BETH!" He had no idea who his wife was talking about, but it did not matter. She did. Suddenly, I felt less out of place and more welcome.
About 25 years ago, my parents moved into the house where they now live. I was a senior in high school. Well, when we finished moving, my mom went out looking for a new church to attend and found one she liked after some searching. She then began attending services and church functions in hopes of finding some kindred spirits with whom to make friends. One of the first functions she attended was some kind of pot luck dinner or something that involved food. Even though Dad and I attend a different church, she asked us to go with her to the function and we went.
Now remember: I was a senior in high school. I was the same age then that my daughter is now and I was just as determined and even more uninhibited. Knowing that my mom needed to make some new friends, I pretty much made a bee-line for the kitchen when I walked into the church for the potluck supper. There, I introduced myself to the ladies preparing food, stated my mother was new to the church, and asked if I could help. They graciously gave me something to do and began getting to know me. After a while, mom came into the kitchen to find me. I then introduced her to the new friends I had adopted for her. One of those ladies was named Gertie and she did become one of my mother's dear friends at the church.
Life went on. I graduated high school, then college, moved away and married (actually exchanging wedding vows with my husband in a private ceremony at my mom's church), moved out of State when my husband joined the Army, and so on. Now I am back living with my parents until my house is finished being renovated and I move into it this coming July. (Yippee!)
Today, my sister, who grew up in my mom's church, had a second reception there for all the people who could not make the drive to her wedding ceremony. In the wake of my solitary 19th wedding anniversary and no longer knowing any members of this church I do not even attend, I really was not in the mood to go to this second reception for my sister's wedding, but I went anyway because my mother had asked me to help with the lunch she was serving.
I stood near the dining room entrance as people would feel welcome to enter. One woman came over to me, introduced herself, stated that she had attended my sister's wedding and politely asked if I have a photographic memory. My jaw nearly hit the floor. This woman has obviously never heard any of my mother's stories about my recovery from head trauma or she would never have asked about my memory. I had no idea how to respond except to simply smile and say no. I am glad I was polite because she then paid me a tremendous compliment on the readings I did during my sister's wedding ceremony, saying it was obvious I knew all the words by heart. I am pretty sure I started to glow, right then and there, but as I talked to the lovely lady, an old woman approached to interrupt us.
"Do I know you?" the old woman asked. Eyes made larger by the glasses she wore, age spots speckled over folds of withered skin, she looked as if she was trying to remember if she knew my face.
I did not recognize her, either, so I replied, "I don't know. Do you? What is your name?"
"Gertie," she answered.
"Oh! Gertie!!" I exclaimed, throwing open my arms and giving her a huge hug. She received my hug hesitantly, but was already explaining that she did not see very well in her old age.
I got very close to her. "Can you see me better now?"
She nodded, but asked again, "Who are you?"
"I am Phyllis' older daughter, Beth."
Throwing back her head, mouth open and eyes crinkled up in a smile, Gertie exclaimed, "Oh! Beth!!" Then it was her turn to give me a bear hug, which I happily reciprocated.
"You are so beautiful!" she told me before she turned to her husband.
"Do you know who this is? This is BETH!" He had no idea who his wife was talking about, but it did not matter. She did. Suddenly, I felt less out of place and more welcome.
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