pamibe

Daisy would have been 17 today. Happy Birthday, Little.

She would have been 17 next week, but we couldn’t wait any longer. She was the most obstinate, humorless, vicious little thing; we lost count of how many times she bit Mike.

But we loved her. Mama’s little is at the Bridge, fighting with all the other dogs.

Happy Mother’s Day to moms.

I had an interesting conversation yesterday. This woman is as close to me as a daughter (and vice versa), so we have a warm relationship. She misses her mom, so we chatted a bit. Mother’s Day is not great for a lot of people… myself included. I miss my mama but I also have a living, breathing birth mom who doesn’t know I exist living on the other coast. It’s difficult sometimes.

I love this mom who carried me and am eternally grateful to her… but sometimes a bit of resentment creeps in because my half sisters have her all to themselves. I repress those feelings, of course, willing the love to come back and cover any wisps of ill will. After all, my sisters are wonderful, caring people and I love them as well.

Today I will feel only love.

Everyone has their version of luxury, whether it takes the form of travel, expensive dinners or nights at the theater. Mine? Being able to stay home.

My little piece of terra firma binds me to it, probably a throw back from growing up on a farm in the country. There was never anywhere better than the farm. Not for me, anyway. Life was hard but I gloried in the land and everything contained upon it; the animals, plants and my dad’s shop. If you couldn’t find me, odds were pretty good I was on the land, either on horseback or afoot.

So, now that old age has its steely grip upon me.(!) I don’t leave the place often. Most of our groceries are delivered and I usually only go to the doctor once a year. Until this week.

A different doctor was called for so I went, of course. Can’t really put these things off, unfortunately. Whereas my once a year doc has a massive waiting room, this new doc’s place looked woefully small. Long, thin room and there were over 20 people mashed in there with me. I almost left… many times.

The next day I told my husband about my nightmare: I’d had to shoot my way out of that room with a *Glock 9mm. It was like the last chopper out of Saigon.

He told me that I am sheltered. He’s absolutely right. Though my youth was spent in honky-tonks and gyms, my life is winding down how it began; on my own property, minding my own business. Wishing the world well, but watching it burn from afar. Selfish? Yes, but my sanity depends upon it… all I need now is a horse. 😉

*I don’t own a Glock.