So Good

Today I called my mom to tell her that we have an offer on our house. The family wants to lease it for a year, then purchase it at the listing price with the amount paid during the lease going toward the purchase amount. She went from being happy about that directly into giving me the advice to postpone my wedding for a year or two, until this business is settled. I told her that Nathan knows all about the house and that it's not a problem. She then went on to say that she just wishes I wasn't getting into this again, that she wishes I still had my own little apartment and the freedom.

I told her I have just as much freedom now as I would if that were the case. I walked into my hobby room and asked Nathan if when we get married, he will want me to stop knitting. He said no. I asked him if when we get married, he'll want me to stop hanging out with my friends. He said no. I asked him if when we get married and I want to get a big tattoo on my butt if that's okay with him. He said yes. I reported all of this to my mother, whom I was still on the phone with.

She said she wasn't trying to tell me what to do, but she'd just leave things like they are. That plenty of people live together for ten or fifteen years without being married. I asked what the point of that is since seven years is a common law marriage. I then told her that I was going to get off the phone, cook breakfast, pretend the conversation never took place, and call her later in the evening. She said she didn't want me to be mad at her, and I told her I wasn't but I didn't like our conversation. I told her I'd call her later, and I did.

I called her around 6:00 this evening and we talked about how hot it is, about my in-service tomorrow...all the normal things. We are so good at pretending sometimes. I will pretend to not be troubled by her comments, and she'll pretend to not think I'm making a mistake.

Ma'am?

I can't decide to be happy or offended. There was this guy with the hood of his truck up in the Kroger parking lot, really close to where I parked. When I came out, he was still there, so I asked him what the matter was with his truck. He didn't look young really. Maybe early twenties. He had tattoos, so that makes him at least eighteen, probably. He told me that if he drives it for more than an hour it overheats, but is fine. Thank you, ma'am. So the guy has good manners, which I like. But ma'am? Granted I was wearing a (somewhat matronly) dress, but I don't think I have ma'am status from people who are probably not that far behind me in age. Now, I should be happy because a week ago I was bitching about people thinking that because I'm young I am incompetent, so that's what I'll go with. I realize I can't have it both ways. I am happy he has good manners and added the ma'am.

Six Years

Six years ago this evening, my dad bought some candy bars and we put them in the freezer for us. He also bought some fireworks, which we didn't usually do since our hometown puts on a show, and we set them off in the driveway. It was a great 3rd of July.

The following day, sometime in the late afternoon, he had a fatal heart attack while taking a nap on the couch. I was working at the local grocery store, and a neighbor came to get me. I remember the numbing panic, and later the flood of tears. I recently reread Cathy Lamb's The Last Time I was Me, and when the narrator says she misses her mother like she would miss her arteries if someone removed them, I get it. We all get it.

It's getting easier to celebrate the 4th I guess. I still feel better about seeing the early and late fireworks, though. I especially like it when people shoot them on the 3rd (but I do get tired of the noise quickly). I value the holiday as anyone with an ounce of patriotism does. It's just such a layered feeling. I have decided that in a way it is a day of freedom for my dad. He is not burdened by working the long hours he did with the paving company, or the bugs he used to swear at as they zoomed by his head while he sat smoking cigarettes on the back porch. He didn't have to witness his dear sister's battle and loss with cirrhosis. He found a peaceful freedom. I am thankful there wasn't a long suffering.

A lot has happened in the six years that have passed, and I wonder what he would've had to say about it all. There's a country song by Chris Young called "Voices" and every time I hear it, I think about him. Because usually I can imagine what he would have to say, and usually it brings a smile to my face.

Tomorrow evening I will go spend the night with my mom. We'll sit on the back porch and catch glimpses of the fireworks from the local community center. But we won't be thinking of them. We will see their sparks and light, and remember the man who gave such a spark and light to our lives.

If anyone reads this, tell me what brings a spark and light to your life. I am bound and determined to stay positive this weekend. My response would be my family(and the memories of those who have passed), friends, and students.