The Shinies – Ramble-y Reminiscence 2

For a time I had a boyfriend (snorts ‘for a time,’ we dated for two and a half years…). The point of mentioning this is because every night at about the same time we text-ed and/or called and chatted. One evening I was out looking at a new boutique with one of my older sisters and my mother. We had meant to visit it earlier in the day, but life happened and we didn’t get there until just before dark. (It was summer, so that’s pretty late where we live.)

Anyway, he text-ed me…something. I don’t remember what started it, but I text-ed him back, “The shinies, honey, the shinies.”

In the little boutique I was standing near some jewelry that had been handmade. It sparkled in the light and was very shiny and sparkly and beautiful.

When it gets late enough, I kind of…float off. I’m not really awake anymore, but I move around, talk, eat and generally am pretty disoriented. And easily distracted by shiny things.

He tried text-ing me back several times, but the response was pretty much the same.

“Where are you?”

“Near the shinies, honey.”

“What are you doing?”

“Looking at the shinies.”

He tried calling me and trying again. It pretty much went like the text-ing part of the conversation until he asked where my mom was.

“Where’s your mom?”

“She’s over there,” points even though boyfriend is obviously not there (yes, I was that tired). “She’s not near the shinies.”

That last bit was said with such sadness, as if I couldn’t comprehend why anyone would evenĀ want to be away from the shinies.

He asked to talk to her and I happily floated on over and handed the phone to Mom.

Everyone still jokes about the shinies more than five years later.

Like Christmas – Ramble-y Reminiscence 1

After we first moved into the duplex, my sister was able to buy a brand new washing machine and dryer. We have never had a new one in the entirety of our lives, child and adult, until this moment. When she first showed them to me, they were white and shiny and new.

“It’s like Christmas!” I exclaimed and hugged the machines.

(Don’t judge me, they were beautiful.)

(Or judge me, I don’t really care all that much.)

This was something that I often forgot, however, so my sister would take me to look at them every time I had a memory blank.

“It’s like Christmas!” I would exclaim all over again and hug the machines as if I had never seen them before.

She enjoyed this display so much, my sister would take every opportunity to show them to me whenever I forgot that we had moved to the duplex.

I wonder if any who read this have had some kind of similar event in their lives. Not the memory blank, but the same feeling of surprised joy every time they saw something or someone.