First of all, my apologies in advance of you reading this post. I’ve a tendency to get a little maudlin this time of year. Missing friends; family…
My roommate (and place-to-live benefactor) and I are very close. We’re good friends – truth be told, we used to date. So we know much about each other including backstory, family history, skeletons. Stuff from our past(s).
And we were fortunate enough to visit the last gun show together. A couple of blog friends were kind enough to give me the financial means. (Thanks, again, we couldn’t have done it without you!)
But there are land mines in the psyche. Stuff I’ve forgotten about and don’t expect. Buried deep. You see, I used to take my daughter to the gun shows. We used to visit antique malls, as well, and sometimes little antique-y things are displayed at gun shows. There were a few at this one.
When my daughter was small, and she’d see a cameo, she’d remark, “There’s that lady, again.” Hearing that always brought a smile to my face.
And, of course, I shared her expression long ago with my roommate. Part of the tales from the past people getting to know one-another pass along. And I always hear Molly’s voice in my head when I see that kind of jewelry.
So, here we are at the gun show, taking it all in, and up comes an antique jewelry display. Not exactly why I visit guns shows. So, I’m getting ready to gloss over it, when my roommate says softly, reverently,
There’s that lady, again.
And I cried.
No worries, my friend. If it didn’t make you cry, you wouldn’t be human. And … you’re not alone.
Posted by Rev. Paul | December 24, 2012, 8:25 amThank you kind sir!
Posted by guffaw1952 | December 24, 2012, 8:29 amI don’t think that part of you will ever heal. You’re too fine a human being for it ever to.
Posted by Borepatch | December 24, 2012, 8:52 amGeez BP, now YOU make me cry!
Thank you, but hardly…
Posted by guffaw1952 | December 24, 2012, 10:24 am+1 to Borepatch
Posted by Matt | December 24, 2012, 10:57 amThanks, Matt!
Posted by guffaw1952 | December 24, 2012, 1:15 pmI understand, nights when you’re half asleep and you think you see them, there at the door, looking in, not at you in particular, just standing in the way you last remember, their head cocked in that angle that is so familiar, eyes full of things you’ll never understand, yet as blank as a a slate, waiting for something, a word, a sign, then they are gone.
They are always around us, in snippets of sleep, in things that we can hold in our hands, in what we will always hold in our hearts, until those eyes, once again, so far away, will look on us with joy and recognition.
Bless you.
Posted by Brigid | December 24, 2012, 11:48 amDamn…
Eyes cannot seem to stop watering today.
Thanks, Brigid
Posted by guffaw1952 | December 24, 2012, 1:16 pmYou’re not the only one…
Posted by Old NFO | December 24, 2012, 5:07 pm