When I was a little girl, I had a special, safe place. I walked through the door…and it was paradise. The smells, the sounds, the warmth of the love. I lived in a wonderful home…but this place was different. More magical than home. There were tents to be made, pies to fill, and cookies to bake.
What a glorious place to be a child. They were my Grandparents…and more. Mim and Pap. My life. They survived the Great Depression, WWII, and my brother and me.
Pap taught me how to shoot craps and shoot a rifle. He taught me history and spelling, and math. He taught me what it meant to be a soldier in a great war, and that sometimes the war stays with you long after it has ended.
Mim taught me to read, to cook, to bake, and to sew. She taught me The Lord’s Prayer, and Amazing Grace. She sang about “that lonesome whipperwill” and “Ol’ Shep”. She taught me to enjoy nature, and explore it…that getting outside clears your head and your spirit. She taught me that even when you have difficult times…you keep moving.
Oh how I miss that special, safe place. The years have passed. They take their toll. Sometimes it seems like it was all a dream.
That’s the way life is, isn’t it? Things happen…they’re real. You hold on to them throughout the years. Little bits fall away…so you hold on tighter. Keeping them all gathered up in your arms.
I love to read blogs about real life, but I just hate it when I feel like my life stinks when I finish reading. I want to be inspired and encouraged, but sometimes…I like to read about the rough stuff. Some writers make their “world” seem so perfect. So neat and clean and spectacular.
I want to know that other people stumble and fall flat on their faces just like I do.
I want to know that their kids and husband drive them nuts sometimes. I want to know that they don’t always have a picture perfect home, and sometimes wish they could throw up their hands and say I quit! I want to know that they get up in the morning, look in the mirror, and wonder what happened!…I want to it to be real…and sometimes real is ugly…and funny…and depressing.
I was subscribed to a few blogs that were beautiful…but made me feel rotten. I hate feeling rotten.
I’m not a perfect wife. I’m not a perfect Mom. I get mad and blow my stack. I don’t feel like running into the kitchen throwing daisies and fluttering around in my apron while cooking supper. Supper usually gives me a headache. I’d much rather load everyone up and go out…but that’s not often possible, because of money…or the lack thereof. Not saying this is a good thing about me…just a true thing. I want my house to always be spotless and all the laundry done. I want to “want” to make my family healthy home cooked meals everyday, and can and freeze and preserve. I want the bills to be paid on time. I want all my flowerbeds weeded and the dogs bathed and brushed.
Lets just say…I’m working on it.
If you want to share my real life…the good, the bad, and the ugly… Stick around. 🙂