Guest guest Posted August 18, 2002 Report Share Posted August 18, 2002 Hi Janetta..that was lovely! Today my daughter Em and I went to our home town to see my folks and visiting Aunt. We stopped at the " Dollar Tree " store - everything $1.00 or under. I no more than walked in when I locked eyes with a woman...I knew I knew her. She looked at me the same way. Then I head her say " Tess! " and I said " Faith! " and we had a great hug. She was one of my very best friends since high school. I hadn't seen her in a couple years. Just talking to her put me on a time machine of memories, happy & sad. I was the one to go find her, hold her, cry with her when she ran out of her house after she got the official word that her fiance was killed in Viet Nam. She blessed me with tender compassion when I was widowed at just 24 with a little 2 year old baby girl. Your lovely post just reinforced that good things, like old friends, are treasures. Thank you. Love & Hugs... Tess Quote Link to comment Share on other sites More sharing options...
Guest guest Posted August 18, 2002 Report Share Posted August 18, 2002 Janetta: that is really beautiful...thanks Kathi in OK --- Janetta Tully <camommacat2@...> wrote: > I didn't write this but it's food for thought. SOME > THINGS YOU KEEP > Some things you keep. Like good teeth. Warm coats. > Bald husbands. > They're good for you, reliable and practical and so > sublime that to > throw them away would make the garbage man a thief. > So you hang on, because something old is sometimes > better than something > new, and what you know is often better than a > stranger. > These are my thoughts, they make me sound old, old > and tame, and dull at > times when everybody else is risky and racy and > flashing all that's new > and improved in their lives. New careers, new > thighs, new lips, new > cars. The world is dizzy with trade-ins. I could > keep track, but I > don't think I want to. > I grew up in the fifties with practical parents -- a > mother, God bless > her, who washed aluminum foil after she cooked in > it, then reused > it--and a father who was happier getting old shoes > fixed than buying > new ones. They weren't poor, my parents, they were > just satisfied. > Their marriage was good, their dreams focused. They > stayed together > through thick and thin. Their best friends lived > barely a wave away. I > can see them now, Dad in trousers and tee shirt and > Mom in a house > dress, lawn mower in one's hand, dish towel in the > other's. > It was a time for fixing things -- a curtain rod, > the kitchen radio, > screen door, the oven door, the hem in a dress. > Things you keep. It was > a way of life, and sometimes it made me envious. > All that re-fixing, > reheating, renewing. I wanted just once to be > wasteful. Waste meant > affluence. Throwing things away meant there'd > always be more. > But then my father died... and on that clear > November day I was struck > with the pain of learning that sometimes there > isn't any `more.' > Sometimes what you care about most gets all used up > and goes away, never > to return. > So, while you have it, it's best to love it and care > for it and fix it > when its broken and heal it when it's sick. That's > true for marriage > and old cars and children with bad report cards and > dogs with bad hips > and aging parents. You keep them because they're > worth it, because > you're worth it. > Some things you keep. Like a best friend who moved > away or a classmate > you grew up with, there's just some things that > make life important... > people you know are special ... and you KEEP them > close! > > -- Author Unknown > > > > --------------------------------- > Quote Link to comment Share on other sites More sharing options...
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