Call Your Mother

I got my car back yesterday, after it had been in for repairs. I had – in the collision shop’s world – a very minor fender-dinger/scrape in December. My fault. My car, my heart, and my psyche are now all whole. I beat myself up about it too much, but I am better now. I live in a car town. I’ve got my wheels back. I rode the bus a bit during the nine days, but you can’t take your dog on the buses here. And I didn’t sign up for the rental car that was offered because of the dog. I’ll let my own special dog blanket and back seat get muddy, but not a rental car’s. So as of yesterday, we’re both very, very happy again.

Espresso’s out at the dog daycare farm today. He pulled me to their front door when I let him out of the back seat. Joy. And I tootled off to Canadian Tire, which opens at 8:30 a.m. And Dollarama, 9:00. And then Walmart, for more crochet yarn!! (I made every piece of thread in the apartment into a throw, a small pet blanket for the Humane Society, or the beginnings of a lovely lacy tablecloth, all in nine days.) On every road: radio. And me singing badly with the HITS from the 70s, 80s, and early 1990s that are popular here, and in Windsor, and Detroit. Between those rock stations and my propensity to shop at dawn, my status as a retired person are becoming fixed in granite, soon to be basalt. (Geologically backwards – thank you, PBS NOVA! – but utterly true.)

Which brings me to time. 

I opened the door to my apartment and had an overwhelming urge to telephone my mom. I mean overwhelming, heart-twisting, stand still and think what you’re thinking overwhelming. Look at your cellphone and almost press the button for Contacts overwhelming.

I can’t phone her. There’s no one there. There’s nothing there. She’s been dead since April, 1993.
I suppose I wanted to tell her that I got through another of life’s trials, and I am better than okay, and I’m still very happy I sold my little house, quit my job, packed up and moved here. I love my car. I moved to the right apartment. The cat and dog are very well. I’m so free, and I feel like a happy kid. Happy wasn’t a thing kids were in my family, but I chased it down, I took it back, I live easy, for me. Who would have believed I could do all that, that I would do all that?

I wanted to tell someone who loved me that, in this chapter, things worked out. That my accomplishments, while small, were significant. That I am glad I’m me.

If she’s the right person in your life, call your mother. In all the daily tumult and stress, with all the upheaval and strange politics, with the dreary January weather, call the one whose approval means the most. Ring your bell, let the true note sound.

About blawggblawgg

Middle-age crisis #1 averted with massive life change. Stars continue to wheel above. Onward! With joy.

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