I’m no good at small talk. I’m no good at the generic response, “I’m good. How are you?” In some cases, that makes me a not-so-good Southerner. Southerners like to spout off the “How are yous?” without really wanting you to answer. I need the front porch and a glass of tea and hours-long talks in the sunshine.
I’m trying to be a better person. Some days are better than others. Some days I finally, finally fall asleep wishing I’d tried harder to be patient with the boys, wishing I hadn’t worded that important text the way I did, wishing I’d stayed at work just ten minutes longer to handle that issue. So the next day, when we get to start all over, and the slate is clean- I remember and I try again. But like I said, some days are better than others.
I write paragraphs in my head- while I’m driving, in the shower, at night before I finally, finally fall asleep. I can never seem to get them down on paper anymore, much less type them here. But I’m writing, still. This is the legacy I’ll leave my kids when I’m old and gone, when I’ve lived all the live He’s given me to live, if nothing else- these words of mine that are worth nothing but love.
I have 2 half-filled calendars. If I put them together, I’d probably have a clear picture of what’s going on and when and where. But I seem to do an ok job with the juggling so I’ll just half-use the calendars and figure it out another day- because this weekend, there’s sunshine and less work to do and more time to give to those two boys of mine.
We had two carnival fish for a few days. Sadly, they died. (I might have been happy about that.) But Finn got flushed and Tom got buried with glitter and now we don’t have to swat the cat off the counter for drinking fish water anymore.
It’s a day by day, week by week kind of deal over here. We get by the best we can and when things punch us in the gut, we keep going and do our best to dodge the punch next time. If we can’t dodge the punch, then at least by now we have abs of steel, right? Ha. Well, in theory.
Whatcha got to give today? What story are you dying to tell me? Spill it. I need more sweet tea, I’ll meet you back here…