PEDTM: Happy 28
My dear friend L. died a year ago today. I think about him every day. Back in February I really needed him and got so mad at him for dying, as if that makes sense. I feel sort of adrift tonight. I miss him.
So. Finding some happy. Today I want to write a little about my mother. I've written about her before, back in 2009, for 14 Valentines, on the subject of domestic violence. That post is here.
But that's a sad post and I want to focus on the happy, which is my current relationship with my mom. The last fifteen years have been wonderful, just the kind of relationship I always wanted with my mother. She's a lot of fun, and still interested in so many different things. She's a great reader, even though she reads by listening to books on CD and to her Kindle.
A few years after my dad died, Mother told me she had decided to say "yes" to life. And she did. She always says yes to going out to lunch or dinner, to learn how to play cards, to taking a drive to see the desert flowers. She even says yes to stuff she doesn't like but is good for her like going to the gym. She went to Europe several times, took cruises in New England and Alaska, visited Mexico and even Turkey. The only place she didn't get to visit that she wanted to was Thailand.
Even now that she's lost her vision, some of her hearing, and much of her mobility, she is much the same: yes, let's go see a movie, let's go to lunch, let's take a drive. I'm going back to see her at the end of July and we already have planned to see some movies and visit a museum.
I think she's amazing. I think she's a wonderful role model and the kind of person I want to be when I reach her age. I'm baffled how she became the person she is -- through some magic of self-invention, I guess. But she's wonderful. She's wonderful.
A few links:
» Via Kottke, a lovely and romantic video.
» This is two minutes of total, total fakery but it's so much fun: UFOs over London
» It rained today! Seriously rained. To my surprise, rain in late June isn't unheard of; it's just that we've had so many dry years. Or so the SF Chron tells me. Unfortunately, now it's going to get hot again. Dang.
So. Finding some happy. Today I want to write a little about my mother. I've written about her before, back in 2009, for 14 Valentines, on the subject of domestic violence. That post is here.
But that's a sad post and I want to focus on the happy, which is my current relationship with my mom. The last fifteen years have been wonderful, just the kind of relationship I always wanted with my mother. She's a lot of fun, and still interested in so many different things. She's a great reader, even though she reads by listening to books on CD and to her Kindle.
A few years after my dad died, Mother told me she had decided to say "yes" to life. And she did. She always says yes to going out to lunch or dinner, to learn how to play cards, to taking a drive to see the desert flowers. She even says yes to stuff she doesn't like but is good for her like going to the gym. She went to Europe several times, took cruises in New England and Alaska, visited Mexico and even Turkey. The only place she didn't get to visit that she wanted to was Thailand.
Even now that she's lost her vision, some of her hearing, and much of her mobility, she is much the same: yes, let's go see a movie, let's go to lunch, let's take a drive. I'm going back to see her at the end of July and we already have planned to see some movies and visit a museum.
I think she's amazing. I think she's a wonderful role model and the kind of person I want to be when I reach her age. I'm baffled how she became the person she is -- through some magic of self-invention, I guess. But she's wonderful. She's wonderful.
A few links:
» Via Kottke, a lovely and romantic video.
» This is two minutes of total, total fakery but it's so much fun: UFOs over London
» It rained today! Seriously rained. To my surprise, rain in late June isn't unheard of; it's just that we've had so many dry years. Or so the SF Chron tells me. Unfortunately, now it's going to get hot again. Dang.