The way to love someone
is to lightly run your finger over that person's soul
until you find a crack,
and then gently pour your love into that crack.
~Keith Miller

Wednesday, August 9, 2017

Traveling a bit - last weekend was the annual girlfriend's weekend.  We hung out in San Antonio.  There is something precious about sharing time with people who have known you ever since when.

I came home wishing  Four and Five could see the long lasting  effects of hurtful words.  It's way too easy to see everyone's baggage when you were there when they first began to carry it along through life.  I can't see mine, but routine readers likely can.  Obviously, for me, there is the pain of being the only living member of the family of my birth.  My younger brother came up in one small conversation - someone said he was just epic back in the day.  He was outstanding at everything a boy becoming a man is measured by.  I didn't see it then but it's obvious now.  Back then I just liked him because he was funny and because he was my little brother.  It was good to remember the high school kid of him.  I remembered walking by the bathroom we shared and seeing him shaving his arms in the sink.  "What are you doing T-ray?" I asked taking it in stride, I mean, I didn't even raise an eyebrow even though he was using my newly acquired "Flicker" razor, I was used to him.  He was curious and able to focus, he was pretty intense.  I guess we all were.  Anyway, he hadn't begun shaving yet, but he wanted to see what it felt like so he shaved his arms from the elbow down to the wrist - both arms.  Why both arms I remember asking and he said because he liked it and because he thought both arms shaved would be less noticeable than having just one bare arm.  I said why didn't you shave your legs like I do and he said that would be weird and every kid in the locker room would find it troubling.  I laughed at that, but he probably wasn't kidding.

We have a trip over to Two's big event - Southern Maker's planned. Leaving early tomorrow for the rest of the week.  Next week we will be camping at the National Seashore in tents ... the cicadas seem to be singing about the shoreline right now.  Max delights in capturing then releasing only to snag again and again the locust who frequent these back yard trees.  I'm sitting outside (alone) while I write this tonight.  Larry is out with one of our daughters and the other (home from school for a few more days) is going through "her boxes" in her room.  I think she has enjoyed looking at the mementos of her earlier life.

I have been careful to keep their treasures safe but it seems to be time for the adult kids to take their boxes to their homes.  I had wondered why my mother didn't save "my things" and have decided that she got rid of them when she moved.  To say she wasn't sentimental would be an understatement.  I wish I had understood her rather than just know her.  It's good when your kids get you.

Well, here's Four now.