It is right now at this time, one year ago, that the proverbial **** hit the fan bringing the official closing to my marriage. The day when I stood with my family and said, enough is enough, I have to leave. Somehow, someway, I will have to find a way out.
There are no words to say or use to begin to express how I could not have made it without my family. How each and everyone of them found it in themselves to help.
My mother listened to me cry endlessly. She sat on the phone with me trying to make sense of something that just cannot be explained. She stayed up night after night and felt only the hurt and rage a mother could feel at her daughter being berated and betrayed. She did the only thing she could do for me which is be my mother and she is the only one I wanted.
My father stopped by and stopped by and watched me come back to life. He gave me the most loveliest of cards that told me I would find my way out. He has become retired part -time caregiver to my girls. He has also taken on his new role of escort to three girls who like to take excursions.
My step-father supported my mother and also listened on the phone and gave hugs, lots of strong hugs. He and my mother opened their home to us in an instant when I thought it unsafe to stay by myself.
My sister listened and did probably the most horrible of tasks which was helping me scrub an ancient house I had lived in for ten years from attic to basement over two excruciating days. 2 a.m. my sister on her knees scrubbing the bottom of my refrigerator.
My brother said to me simply, “I am proud of you”. Something a girl feeling a failure and whose confidence level had been shot down to zero desperately needed to hear.
My grandparents, I cannot even begin to type the words, without tears. My grandparents have always been so dear to my heart. Since a tiny wee thing, they have been an integral part of my life and now they came to our rescue building this wonderful place my girls and I call home, on the very spot my great-grandparents lived, right next door to them, where they are always ready, with a helping hand and love and grandparently goodness. To have a place where my girls can run free outside and I can come home and rest my head. To have them there, right there, for my girls to run to, for me to visit with, to see from one kitchen window to the next.
Home never felt so good and being alone never feels quite alone. And one year later- I feel safe…and loved…and exhausted, very, very, very, very exhausted but it could be worse, much worse, for I could not have this force of nature that keeps me steady called my family.
Not hardly at 90 degrees today on April 27th. Uggh. But I was just complaining about the cold not that long ago wasn’t I?
We’re taking care of that now. She was found on the side of the road by my brother and sister-in-law and after asking around and not having anyone claim her, she now makes us a family of six girls. Three human-three not.
Because, really, I needed another pet to take care of? Didn’t I nix the guinea pig idea??
She is really sweet, quite tame and a dream to care for compared to the other pets. The only problem is I can’t seem to quite get her name down and I have no idea why. She has been, Snowflake, Snowball, Sunshine, Sunny and Fluffy. The girls of course take every minute to correct me and Ems is fascinated by her doing what she thinks would make any being happy, two-legged or four-legged, which is reading to her.
She’s moved from the cat carrier to a regular cage and the fun part is now deciding how to keep one dog, one cat and one rabbit from being left alone together at any given time. Though Abby, our dog, has taken it upon herself to be “mother hen” to Snowy and whimpers when she’s shut in Ems room and she cannot keep an eye on her. The cat…well…we’re not even going to go there.
My daughter has a glass of lemonade. It’s just been kind of hanging out here on the counter. All day I have been slowly stealing bits of it and pouring it into my iced tea as there is no more.
Alas, her lemonade has disappeared and it would be inappropriate to ask her where it is, wouldn’t it?
When I’m downstairs in my groove and hear it from upstairs.
That whining-cry that means there are going to be dramatics related to either:
A. someone hurt someone else’s feelings or
B. someone shoved the other in some form……
I want to flee in a frenzied flight of fancy….right…out…the…door.
So not something you are likely to be stalked by in the forest on the way to Oz?
These are my three favorite animals. If you ask me what my three favorite animals are, I will say, Elephants, Bears and Cows. Why elephants, bears and cows? No idea.
Elephants are matriarchs and I’m a single mother from a family of predominantly females.
Bears are cuddly and lovable looking but fiercely protective.
Cows, well, they are just cows, but who can resist a real cow. I mean a well cared for clean cow.
I am trying not to eat cows again. I didn’t for a long time. I’m working my way back through the organic farm but it’s really hard. I really, really, like beef. Perhaps I need to spend more time with the cows.
Elephants have a bloody history don’t they. Come on, who really needs ivory? Let the elephants keep their tusks. One of my favorite books is about an elephant, Modoc by Ralph Heifer sits on the bookshelf beside me now.
Recently, a couple of my favorite websites introduced me to this wonderful group:
The Ursa Freedom Project through
Freeing caged bears in Asia from bile farms.