Sam turned 20 on November 4th. She asked me to get her a cookie cake (which we do every now and then). So I got her a Mrs. Field’s cake with balloons on it (made of frosting, of course) and with the text comprised of LSU colors spelling out “Happy 20th Birthday, Sam”. She loved it. It was a nice day. The next day I had work. When I came home I saw the red cookie cake box sitting on the counter and I peeked inside to see how much was left and I saw one piece. But what I saw about that one piece took my breath away! Continue reading Superstition With Reason
I read a post written by a lovely lady (Cathy Lynn Brooks) who keeps a blog devoted to her daughter, who was diagnosed with bipolar disorder and lost her life in an accident about a year ago. Truly a tragic story! Her story had me thinking about my situation surrounding my dad’s passing last month.
When I was little the backyard was one of my favorite places to be. There were so many reasons for this. In the middle of the yard we had the biggest pecan tree I’ve ever seen that dropped nuts all the time. I’d go out to play by the rowboat we had on the left side of the yard, often. One of my favorite things to do was to turn the boat over and see what was underneath. My dad kept it upside down and usually we just sat on it and played cards or talked but I LOVED to look and see what was underneath! Lots of juicy worms would curl up and writhe free from the dirt along with some slugs and skinks. I loved that!
Where did I look to answer that question when forming my “About” page? It’s hard to look in the past for that, unless you carry your past around like an old suitcase, which (hate to say) I do occasionally… I look at what’s on my mind. What am I consumed by? I’m coming to discover that what I write about will always be pertinent as long as it means something to me or someone else, for that matter. Right now, taking action to move back home to be with my family and friends is foremost in my mind even more than it has been in the last 10 years. Dad’s passing has shoved it under a magnifying glass.
I reside in the Midwest. “Reside” is a good word to describe my existence every day. My heart is at home in New Orleans. For those of you not from New Orleans (or even from the deep south) you may not get my attachment to my hometown. New Orleans is a different kind of city, almost its own country, in a way. The day we were traveling to Rockford was very sad for me; not only because I had to leave my family and friends and the only home I’ve ever known, but we arrived the day after 9/11. It was a remarkable day in history and a life-changing event, personally, for me. It was an unpleasant day. I continue to hold on to the belief that one day I will get back. With my dad gone now it feels even more important that I make it back home. My sister is my only sibling and I so miss my friends from so long ago. What all of us have in common, however, is that we all have a home town. Many of us leave home to go live somewhere else either by choice or necessity. My experience is only one story. What’s your story? Are there similarities in our hometowns? I’m sure there are!