Author Topic: Families  (Read 399 times)

Offline Spell Chick

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    • Little Bits of History
« on: December 23, 2012, 08:36:39 AM »
I was looking up a poem which spoke to a topic in a different thread. I put the title into Google but it is rather an obscure poem and I didn't really think I would find it, but I did. I had only seen it in one spot in my life. It was a poetry book my mother owned. My sister and I grew up fighting over who would get Mom's copy of the book. One year for Christmas, Pam gave me my own copy of the book and I took Mom's and put in all her handwritten notes. We BOTH have the book now.

This made me get all misty eyed unless that was part of this dang cold. But I thought I should say something. It is early here and two hours earlier where my sister lives. She isn't a writer and doesn't belong here. But we are both on Facebook and get to keep in touch with that and phone calls. Calling that early in the morning would not endear my to be beloved sister, so I wrote on her wall on Facebook.

She woke up to a message from me telling her of this obscure search reminding me of how much I love her and am grateful for my family. She wrote back when she woke up.  :D

It is the little things that matter. Big things are thought about and worried about and planned for and made to happen or avoid. But the little things happen to us each day, binding us together in a web of memories and some small thing can bring a smile to our hearts if we let it.

I am so grateful for my family. I wish each of us could have such warmth, comfort, acceptance, and love.

Although I know it doesn't happen as my two surviving aunts do not speak to each other. My mother spoke to both of them and tried unsuccessfully to bridge the hurt, but holding on to hurt is apparently more satisfying that bridging the gap. It is so sad. You would think really old people would have more sense.
Little Bits of History A short essay on something that happened on any day.

Imperfect Reason My thoughts, such as they are.