So our spring break was far too long and far too short. We left Kentucky exhausted but as usual we didn’t get to see everyone we wanted to see. If we did get to visit, it was far too short. One afternoon I missed seeing my Aunt Carolyn. I love hearing her stories. She talks about my Gran like she walked on water, which of course goes right along with every memory I ever had of her. I remember walking to the post office where she was a post master to clean it for her. Bless her heart, she never said one word when the 12-year old me did a horrible job managing to streak every window in the place. I would proudly walk home with five dollars in my pocket feeling like a millionaire.
On this particular trip, I missed seeing Aunt Carolyn one Friday afternoon as we were combing her town for ideas on siding and light fixtures. She called me back and I got to hear one of her great stories. She told me when we were adopting Jack she was worried sick thinking about me managing with four kids all by myself. My family often thinks my life looks like…well… this sums it up.
Anyway she told me that one day my Uncle Jim told her to quit fussing, if anyone could handle it I could. I was a lot like his grandmother, Daisy and nothing was going to ruffle my feathers.
So two things… at that very moment when she was talking to me, on the inside I was extremely ruffled. We just bought a house that needs a structural engineer and an architect. I just got a call that my long term job was extended. Thankfully, it was extended because we had to put four new tires on the car while we were back after paying for braces for Hanan in the same month, not exactly in the monthly budget. We are almost to the point of discussing the next set of orders. Everyone is pulled in 1,000 different directions. Add to that I typically get slightly stressed on those short trips home trying to entertain, make sure everyone is happy, we see people and we have a falling down house to rebuild on a short trip. Then there’s worrying about everyone’s health… I can keep going forever. My worry pile is sort of like Mount Washmore I just try not to talk about it. That’s the first things. The second thing is the man I saw as stoic and unmovable thought that I was unruffled…
I’m ruffled all the time. I have my breakdown moments especially in my hormonal induced old age episodes. Poor Ray is usually the only one to see it. First if I am ruffled, there is exactly no time in my day to indulge in not getting it done or feeling sorry for myself so why start? I also have developed the same idea as Martha Washington, she is just far more eloquent in her language.
I wish I knew my great grandmother through more than just the stories I’ve been told. I’ve been thinking about that conversation with Aunt Carolyn. Daisies have to push themselves up through a lot of dirt to turn themselves into that beautiful little spot of sunshine just like we have to push through life. I’m pleased as punch to be compared to Daisy. I will do my best to live up to her unruffledness. (Is that a word?) Happiness is often a choice no matter what your circumstance is.
Thanks Aunt Carolyn for the sweet story. I love you!