Saturday, February 21, 2009

Mom 66/365

Mom gets more words than everybody else and that's okay.

I deify you, the perfect mom.

So funny:
The Baptists asked as a condemnation, "Judy, what would you do if Jesus
came while you were playing cards?"
You answered, "I'd deal him in!"

So smart:
"Better to know a little bit about a lot of things, than to know everything about
one thing and nothing about the rest."

So good:
"Mom, why do we always have people staying with us? Why is it never just
You said, "Well, they need us right now. And someday we'll need help and
someone will be there for us."

I ignore all the symptoms of depression that I try not to mimic.
-Holding down the couch with a book
-Eating a whole pan of fudge in the middle of the night
-Becoming a spinster

I wish you’d married that Italian who drank too much, but who was passionate and loved you. Imagine the laughter and joy that would've been in our house.

I wish you’d taken care of yourself. I wish it for you. I wish it for me, because it would make confidence and self-love so much easier.

Dad 65/365

First, I loved you as I hollered for you on the radio,
“How ‘boutcha Uncle Fuzzy. You got your ears on?”

Then I hated you, impossible to please.

Finally, I understood you, inadequately loved, doing the best you could.

Tuesday, February 10, 2009

Amanda C. 64/365

Lived in the Old Goat Lady’s house
Had a little stage we made plays on
Older boys drove by and asked you to give them head
“Up yours!” you flirted, while I pretended to know what they meant