I have been keeping up with this 543-day writing challenge, journey, or whatever you want to call it for 185 days! Today, let’s call it a trek.
Although I do this in the memory of my late husband, I am writing for my boys to read one day. They do already, but them having a book of their mom’s zany ideas and some fun memoires we all share would be a cool thing, a treasure.
For example, they may say, “Oh yea, I remember when Sammy did that!”
It brings me back to when Sammy was around kindergarten-age. I would go into his room hours after dinner, hours, and I would say, “What are you eating?”
“Chicken,” he would answer as he tucked a large wad of chicken cud into his cheek with his tongue.
“You had more dinner?”
“No, it’s from dinner.”
“You’re still chewing it? Spit it out!” I was amazed the first time it happened, but then became used to it. He eventually swallowed it, which is better than Max could manage to do with pool water.
My brother was at my Shamrock house while the boys were swimming.
“Max is throwing up!” he said.
I looked at Max who was hanging his head over the pool tossing his cookies.
“He’s fine. He does this every time he swims.” He really did, and we got used to it. Eventually he stopped and learned how to limit the water he takes in while swimming.
My boys are all a little weird and there are so many memories like these. Their personalities are incredibly entertaining and complex as is their candor and confidence, like shortly after Roger died when we were invited to visit with the governor of NC, Bev Perdue.
We were at a ceremony in Raleigh, and we were invited to meet with her in a separate room. The boys were clean and wearing “buttons and a belt” which I used to say to them when they had to be presentable in public. Their hair was combed and their manners were on.
Baylee thought Governor Perdue should be on the same manner page as we were, so he said to her, “Can I have some gum?” I imagine her breathe smelled minty fresh.
“Of course, if it’s OK with your mom,” she said, looking at me. I felt my face turn red.
I numbly said he could, so she motioned to a very burly man in a black suit who was holding her purse for her. He handed it over, and she took out some gum and gave Baylee a piece. He offered her his thanks and never skipped a beat. He was three.
When Tye was a little older than that, four, he had to go to daycare for about a year for four days a week. Once in awhile he had to go on a Saturday at a different place, and he hated it. For months and months, he would pretend to fall asleep in our little Mazda RX7 on the way to the place called S.P.E.C., and it was half funny half heartbreaking. OK, it was mostly heartbreaking.
“I want to go to the place where Miss Mary is,” he would always say.
Stories like these warm my heart, taking me back to the time when they were little and so innocent. Yes, having babies and toddlers is quite difficult, but when they grow and their wings begin to sprout is when it becomes so much harsher on the heart. That’s why I share these cool memories. It keeps them alive.
Click here to see why I write: 543