drumroll...
It’s 13 weeks today, which means I finally feel safe announcing that this little number is going on my Christmas list this year. :)
What I'm Thankful For:
You.
I only gave this link to people I care about, so chances are, if you're reading this, I like you. A lot. Love you, even. And with rare exception — like those I see just about every day, or at least every few weeks — I really miss you.
Take care of yourself, would ya?
I only gave this link to people I care about, so chances are, if you're reading this, I like you. A lot. Love you, even. And with rare exception — like those I see just about every day, or at least every few weeks — I really miss you.
Take care of yourself, would ya?
end of an era
A few years back, my parents called to let me know that the fire department had come through our neighborhood and renumbered the houses. The home I grew up in was no longer #13; it was now #11. Despite my inner 10-year-old protesting that "#11 is where Billy and Scotty live, not us!!" the address of my youth was gone. I had to start addressing cards and packages to my next-door neighbor's house.
Eventually, I got used to it. But today came another blow. My parents finally jumped on the cell-only bandwagon and disconnected their land line. I know it's a fiscally intelligent decision, but I can't help but mourn the disappearance of what I will always consider "my" phone number -- no matter how many numbers I've also called mine over the years. I just hate knowing that I'll never dial it again! It's the only number I've always known by heart — except for Sheila's old home number, of course (still know that one, too).
It's so strange, like a part of my history has vanished. Equally strange is the fact that my parents, who live in the same house, are now reachable by two different numbers.
For years and years, I kept a key to my parents' home on my keychain. It was a sentimental safety blanket of sorts. I just liked seeing it there, knowing I could always go home, and let myself in (it didn't matter that 'home' is now 1,000 miles away). Then one time when I was visiting Mom and Dad, I told my sister how I still kept a key to the front door.
"They got a new door, with a new lock, a few years ago," she said.
Sigh. Do you think they're trying to tell me something?
Eventually, I got used to it. But today came another blow. My parents finally jumped on the cell-only bandwagon and disconnected their land line. I know it's a fiscally intelligent decision, but I can't help but mourn the disappearance of what I will always consider "my" phone number -- no matter how many numbers I've also called mine over the years. I just hate knowing that I'll never dial it again! It's the only number I've always known by heart — except for Sheila's old home number, of course (still know that one, too).
It's so strange, like a part of my history has vanished. Equally strange is the fact that my parents, who live in the same house, are now reachable by two different numbers.
For years and years, I kept a key to my parents' home on my keychain. It was a sentimental safety blanket of sorts. I just liked seeing it there, knowing I could always go home, and let myself in (it didn't matter that 'home' is now 1,000 miles away). Then one time when I was visiting Mom and Dad, I told my sister how I still kept a key to the front door.
"They got a new door, with a new lock, a few years ago," she said.
Sigh. Do you think they're trying to tell me something?
Subscribe to:
Posts (Atom)