My Own Life: The Recap

Okay, so, I'm back! Discussing my very own life instead of some TV show!

Hi!

Unfortunately, I am also drunk which you are also going to have to bear up with.

So, the S-Man took me out to celebrate the double toothpick anniversary. We would have celebrated sooner, but we were having a hellacious yard sale (you may have heard). As we do most anniversaries, we toasted each other's incredible stamina to endure this difficult union. Also, we discussed the possibility of ending this torture. I'm at least sixty-two percent sure we're staying together. I can't be certain, however, since the Reisling purchased by benevolent benefactors across the way, Jeannie and Harvey, was mighty tasty. And there are blank spots.

The yard sale was a success, I guess, in the way that we are a) All still alive and b) Still speaking to each other and c) In posession of a large wad of cash we would have not otherwise enjoyed. The sale began at around 7:30 when we untied the junkyard dog we procured to guard our spread out crust-covered treasures (don't you just love having us in the neighborhood?) because we are not, ourselves, early risers. The sale went on until around noon when everybody lost the ability to breathe and speak and also move in temperatures past ninety-five degrees.

I'm happy to report many of our neighbors supported us out of pure southern hospitality mingled with pity and, let's be honest, a touch of fear. Because--did I mention? We had alot of stuff. That you would never, EVER need. Nevertheless, we were happy to see our friends, whatever their motivation, and merchandise was moved. The fabulous Charlotte Erwin came away with the much coveted star spangled denim jacket, and I think we'll be seeing more of it at performances of the Lowertown Ensemble. I'd say their names, but I can't think of it. I'm doing that drunk thing wherein your try to snap your fingers? And then they just won't snap, but just sort of rub together ineffectually....WAIT! "The Relocators" That's it, yah!

Okay, moving on.

After that it was time to celebrate a very special birthday. This meant a trip to my Grandmama's house and the forced eating of cake and ice cream. I endured this like the trooper that I am.

The story of when Maw-Maw's house burned down was recounted. I had forgotten this was one of the very first stories my mother ever told me. How, in February of 1952, she awoke from a dead sleep at her grandmother's house to find one entire wall consumed with flames and the whole house on fire. How her little (three-year-old) brother's sore throat and his on-again, off-again, desire for drinks of water may have saved their lives, causing them all to sleep a little lighter and thus remaining semi-conscious enough to eventually realize the house was aflame.

Mom told the story again. How she awakened to the sound of her grandmother's voice at the foot of the bed calling her grandfather's name, "Eddie...EDDIE!" Mom told again how they ran through the living room, the vinyl unbearably hot beneath their bare feet and how, just as they were almost out the front door to safety, that flaming wall collapsed, singeing off the back my grandmother's hair.

Mom would have been twelve years old in February of 1952. I had always imagined her running toward the door in the flaming house, her waist length (was it still waist length) hair streaming behind her, her grandmother on her heels barely escaping death from the flaming wall. I had always imagined, however, that Maw-Maw had Mom's three-year-old brother, Tim, in her arms.

But on Sunday, for the first time, I asked, "Who carried Tim?".

"I did", Mama said.

And so, I had to revise the whole mental memory. Mom, not alone, but clutching her little brother and running for the door. Mom who was only a child herself, saving her little brother. Of course she would. Automatically. And I thought, wow, what must it be like to have a big sister? A big sister who scoops you up when the house is on fire and runs with you in her arms to safety?

And I remembered the verse on a card I keep on my dresser:

This fleeting world

is like a star at dawn,

a bubble in a stream,

a flash of lightening

in a summer cloud,

a flickering lamp,

a phantom, and a dream...

And I remembered to remember what a miracle it is that any of us are here and to appreciate each and every day for the wonder that it truly is.

Because, really. What are the chances?