There was a time in my life where I was determined to convince my brother that I loved strawberries dipped in barbecue sauce; it worked. (Grins)
I had started small with dipping carrot sticks into the sauce and then working my way up so that he’d believe me about the strawberries, which, while they did taste good together it was the kind of taste that I had to train myself into liking.
But the look on his face the first time I ate it with enjoyment in front of him…
For everything else, there’s Stomach Pumps.
(No one’s stomach was pumped in the course of this prank.)
I tripped last week on a garden hose (that I was certain I’d stepped over) while I was going to feed the chickens. I have this large, ugly-looking bruise on my leg that aches and aches and aches. Come to think of it, I’ve gotten a lot of bruises the size and color that I haven’t had since I was a child since moving out to the farm. Guess that just comes with the territory.
There are times when she wasn’t sure what to do anymore. Her children were grown and visited her less and less. They listened to anything she had to say with distressingly less regularity. Her husband had grown distant, only coming to see her maybe once or twice a month. During months that held anniversaries like their marriage or one of their birthdays, she’d see him a third time, but no more during any of their children’s or grandchildren’s birthdays. She didn’t even see him at night anymore as he had started sleeping in a separate room, something that had been unthinkable until just four years ago.
She wasn’t even certain of when it started happening. He’d been working longer, but only one night every now and then at first. It had slowly grown from once a month to maybe three or four times a month and then several times a week.
Then, one day, she woke up and realized that her husband hadn’t shared her bed, not even just for sleeping, in over a year.
Then she realized that not only did she wake up to his side of the bed cold and untouched but she didn’t even get to see his face during the day, never mind getting to see him smile.
She was a stranger to the man that she’d pledged her everything to and he was a stranger to her.
“How did it come to this, my dear?” she whispered into his pillow from where it was pressed into her face.
Honor thy father and thy mother: that thy days may be long upon the land which the Lord they God giveth thee. –Exodus 20:12
I would like to take today to honor my dad. Today is his birthday and he will be 69 which means that next year he will be the big 70. I had not realized until this moment that he was so close to being another decade older than the last time I checked. (In fact, I had to check his age against my mom’s. He is four years older than her and that is how I have always calculated their ages. I figure out how old one is in order to get the others. It always changes depending on who I need to check.)
My dad is not perfect. He never was and he likely never will be.
That’s just how the cookie crumbles.
But he has tried his best to raise me and to do what he believed was right for me even if I (very greatly) disagreed.
I would not be who I am today without him and for that I am grateful to him.
I love you, Dad, and I hope that this next year is full of wonderful memories just as others have in the past for even sorrow can bring you joy.
I have mentioned before that I am extremely grateful for my awesome neighbor, but she’s just so awesome that I just have to repeat it every time she steps above and beyond as our neighbor. So I am once again very thankful for my neighbor.