They were a group of girls. Young compared to me. The oldest had been in college for a mere two years, the rest were freshman age. They were discussing naming their future children and I was eavesdropping.
Signature
Hey Girl
Hey girl!
Where are you going –
I don’t think you know.
You just had to leave –
you just had to go.
And I don’t blame you.
3 Squeezes and Love You to Pieces
I remember the time
Mom and I were at the store
I let go of her hand
so that I could explore.
I’m not superstitious…much
She looked at me with wide eyes and an air of expectancy. Normally, I would have agreed with her. In fact, I had waited for over 20 years for an opportunity such as this. But I couldn’t do it. I could not side with my sister-in-law.
“RH,” my sister-in-law, CC, reiterated in case I didn’t hear her the first time, “will not flip a calendar early.”
Yeah, so?
She wanted me to join forces with her in an effort to mock my brother. Of course she thought I would be an ally in her cause since I have led many efforts to mock my older brother ever since…well, forever. It’s a little sister’s prerogative and responsibility and I always take my job seriously. At least, this one. Otherwise an older brother’s ego gets too huge and becomes too unbearable to even associate with. It’s all in the Little Sister’s Handbook for Survival. I can send you a copy if you’d like.
My biggest fear/regret
The Joy of Domesticity
My sister, NJ, and I went grocery shopping together the other day. She confided in me, “There are two things I hate to do, shopping and laundry.” As opposed to those who just enjoy the heck out of performing these two tasks? I have never met a single person who has confessed loving to do either chore, myself included. Granted, I haven’t asked every single person in this big world. I know there are different strokes for different folks so it wouldn’t surprise me to eventually meet someone who gets giddy grocery shopping or who loves doing laundry. To that person I have two little words: you freak.
Pests and Rodents
My brother left to serve a mission when I turned twelve years old. The day we got back from dropping him off at the MTC, I moved myself into his basement bedroom. My mom approved the move, she was just too tired and probably a little too sad to help me. So, I moved everything but the furniture myself. By the time I moved out years later, I was very tired of living in the basement. I promised myself I would never live in another basement again.
What Becomes of the Brokenhearted?
Earlier this week, let’s say on Tuesday, my officemate connected her iPod to a speaker. She had downloaded new songs and wanted to share. “Do you know who Aaron Neville is?” She asked as one of his songs played on her iPod.
ck's days 