I got a late start this morning and by the time I was dressed and ready to take my walk it was in the mid-nineties. So, I sat in my chair thinking. First thought was I gotta get up earlier! Second thought was to forget the walk. Then I daydreamed a while. I do know how to waste a day. Finally, I decided to get on the computer and get some writing done. Anyway, I am joining Tuesday Chatter with my In Other Words post. You would think since I host In Other Words I would do my post before the last day but it seems I am always a bit behind. Probably due to late starts and daydreaming.
The prompt for In Other Words:
“Time flows the same way for all human beings; every human being flows through time in a different way.” Yasunari Kawabata
The first person I thought of when I read this quote was my father. He was something of a worrier and one of the things he worried about was being late. Everywhere he went if he wasn’t at least fifteen minutes early he was late. When the family had someplace to be at a certain time he would be ready way before the rest of us and a nervous wreck worrying that we would be late. He would pace or sit in his chair tapping his foot, shaking his head and telling us we were going to be late making it sound like we were breaking the law and would see prison time if we didn’t hurry.
As a child, he made me so nervous and a little afraid of being late that sometimes I would sort of move in slow motion resulting in our not being fifteen minutes early which meant we were late. Then he would tell the story about how I was supposed to be born on St Patrick’s day but I was late making them wait a week longer and how they have been waiting for me ever since. Back then I felt bad that I made everyone wait for me and became like him and worried about not being on time which meant I had to be early.
Somewhere in time how I felt about the story changed and I now see it as a sweet memory. I do try to be on time but no longer worry about being late. At least not to the point of nervous tics happening. The older I get I am less concerned about time. I try to be on time and usually am but if I am less that ten minutes late I still consider myself on time.
When I was a little girl my biggest wish was to be a grown-up.
After all, grown-ups were tall and could reach whatever they wanted.
And they could have whatever they wanted without asking anyone.
Grown-ups didn’t have to take a nap and they could stay up late.
They went wherever they wanted when they wanted.
And they could go places by themselves and never had a babysitter.
Plus, they didn’t have to go where they didn’t want to.
When they were hungry they ate when they weren’t they didn’t.
They always had money in their pockets to buy what they wanted.
They could get mad and yell and not be sent to their room.
The only downside I could see was they didn’t have teddy bears.
When I was a little girl I was wrong about being a grown-up.
Except about not having a teddy bear.
I’m a grown-up now and still have my Guy.
Today I am linking to In Other Words
the prompt is “I do know my own mind. The trouble is my mind changes and then I have to get acquainted with it all over again.” Lucy Maud Montgomery
Five Sentence Fiction
the prompt here is Forgotten
Over the years, her mind has changed from quick and bright to slow and foggy. Somehow the connection between her mind and her life has been lost. There was a time when she knew her own mind. These days she needs to be reminded of the simplest things. Now she sits in her chair puzzled and wondering how can it be she has forgotten who she is.
Lost in Translation’s Thursday’s Special
prompt this week:
When I was a child my grandmothers and mother had button jars.
I think almost every woman had one.
When something was ready for the rag box the buttons were taken off and saved.
If something was made at home and new buttons bought,
at the five and dime store, the extras went into the button jar.
I don’t think women have button jars anymore…or rag boxes.
I don’t have a rag box but, I do have a button jar.
The picture is of the buttons from my jar.
Some of the buttons are from gramma’s jar, some from mom’s and some
are extras that come with sweaters, shirts, and blouses that I buy.
When I was little I would sort through the button jars.
It was like the buttons were jewels and kind of magical.
Sometimes I sort through the buttons I have.
They are like magical jewels bringing sweet memories to mind.
My grandfather, Pa, died when I was about two. Gramma and my aunt lived together. My aunt worked and had friends she spent time with leaving Gramma alone a lot of the time so I often stayed with her.
My favorite memory of her is when one night as she was tucking me into bed I told her the quilt was too heavy. That is when she told me about the Angels. She said it wasn’t the quilt that seemed heavy it was my Guardian Angel sitting there getting comfortable for the night. I had never heard of Guardian Angels! Gramma said everybody gets one when they are born and while we live they never leave us. She said that even when we are hurt or something bad happens they are with us so all will be well with our soul. And when we die they go with us on that last journey and make sure we know our way around heaven. Then they are reassigned and go on to meet their new baby. How awesome!
From then on I believed without a doubt that I have a Guardian Angel. I am sure there have been times I have given my Angel reason to ask for another assignment. I am just as sure there has never been a time my Angel has left me unattended and alone. I cannot imagine life without this blessing. I will always be grateful for Gramma telling me about Guardian Angels.
My mother had several traditions that were important to her.
One of them was the Christmas Wish Candle and Book.
It was a red pillar candle brought out on Thanksgiving Day
and stayed on a table in the living room until New Years Day.
Everyone who came to the house during that time was invited to
light the candle, make a wish, blow the candle out, and sign the book.
And I mean everyone.
Friends, family, milkman, mailman, repairmen, and delivery people…
Some years there were pages of names and some years only a few.
I don’t know what happened to the Wish Candle and Book.
If I had a Wish Candle I would wish to have Ma’s Wish Book.