My son stands at the stove stirring. That’s wonderful. The debilitating accident at work left him damaged and in pain, but he is much better now. I thank God daily that his head wasn’t involved in the accident. But for his fast thinking and a fraction of an inch it would have been. He has changed in subtle ways. I think we all change when we come head to head with our mortality.
He has decided to do two things that he was putting off until the kids were raised. He is learning to cook Italian food and he is learning to speak Japanese. He stands in the kitchen cutting peppers, simmering onions, stirring pasta, and speaking Japanese. We elected a spy to sneak in and read the recipe so we all know what he is fixing for dinner, but none us has the faintest idea what the heck he is talking about.
I have an old, battered straw hat that I love. I tie small scarves around it to dress it up and hide it’s age. I tried to replace it once, but I couldn’t find a new one that fits my head and personality as well as the old, battered one.
One afternoon a friend dropped by and said that she had seen my hat while she was on vacation. She said that it had come in an assortment of colors and she didn’t know which colors I would prefer so she didn’t grab one. I asked her where she saw them so I could go take a look. Her answer: “A K-Mart in Idaho.”
We both burst out laughing.
A few days later she knocked on my door with two hats in her hands. They were identical to my old, battered straw hat. They’re brand new, colorful, pretty to look at, and feel great on my head. News flash! The California K-Mart carries the same merchandise as the Idaho K-Mart. Who woulda thought.
My friend Scot dropped by last week. He had a small gift for me. It was a hand held pot scrubber. You put dish soap in the handle and it dispenses the soap as you scrub the fricken dried stuff off the pots, pans, and plates.
That scrubber is one of the nicest things any one has gottenme in a long time. It cuts my ‘fricken dried stuff’ scrubbing time in half. Isn’t it amazing what joy a little thing like a friend with a pot scrubber in his hand can bring to your life?
My wheelchair is worn out. I bought it in 1986. It was just meant for once in awhile use then. Now that I have to sit in it full time the wheels fall off at the most inconvenient time, the seat is tearing, the back of the thing looks like it has been in an argument with an angry cat, and I have to keep a pillow in the seat to be able to find any comfort for my back. I really need a new wheelchair.
I don’t want to go wheelchair shopping. Don’t ask me why I am procrastinating. I don’t know the answer. What I do know is if I don’t get a new one soon I’ll have to borrow the red wagon my grandson used when he was a little tyke to get any place that I want to get. But I’ll have a new colorful straw hat to wear. Maybe my friend could find me a red one to match the wagon.
My ex-sister-in-law, the one that divorced my brother over twelve years ago has contacted me by e-mail. When they divorced I asked my brother’s permission to assure her that we could stay friends. She never answered that letter. Now that my brother has died she wants too re-new our relationship. My current sister-in-law says the ex-sister-in-law is still in love with my brother, and now that he is gone his favorite sister is the closest thing to him that she will ever obtain again. My current sister-in-law let the ex-sister-in-law spend time with my brother so she could say a final goodbye. Then my current sister-in-law asked my brother’s forgiveness ... even though he was gone and couldn’t hear her. My brother had some bitter feelings.
But that just shows what a wonderful woman my brother found when he fell in love for the second time. I am totally confused. I don’t want to damage my relationship with my current sister-in-law. I love her.
But if my ex-sister-in-law persists I wouldn’t want to hurt her either. Once upon a time we were close.
I think I’ll be like Scarlett in the movie ‘Gone with the Wind’ and 'think about that another day'.
I am now taking my shuppatsu (shupe-pot-sue). That’s Japanese for ‘departure’. I lifted the word from one of my son’s books