Monday’s Wandering Thought
She would have been called a troubled teenager. Drinking too much, dropping out of school, becoming pregnant, marrying before she was seventeen, her life had taken turns that we didn’t expect from such an intelligent and charming person.
Two divorces, two children, and forty-five years later, she acquired her GED, graduated college with a B.S., runs a family business, is a grandmother of three, and is also a professional. She’s the one we turn to for help. She’s strong, stable, and reliable, the person we thought she would be before she became a troubled teen.
Sunday’s Wandering Thought
He and his sister were talking about words. She said, “You know where spitting image comes from?”
No.
“It was originally spirit in image. It was a religious reference. Somehow it got twisted into spitting image. I think it’s probably from someone’s accent confusing people, so they thought someone was saying spitting image instead of spirit image.
He later searched for origins, and spirit in image wasn’t mentioned. Shame, though, it sounded like a good story.
Saturday’s Wandering Thought
It was a simple pleasure. He stood outside on the covered back porch, sipping from a hot cup of coffee, listening to the rain, smelling the fragrances as cool air bathed him. The knots in his soul unraveled as he stood there.
Tics
He comes in.
Looking up, she sees him and asks, “You’re already here?”
Clearly, it’s a verbal tic. As an expression, it puzzles him. They’re looking at him and asking if he’s already there, when he clearly is. But that’s the nature of those things, something employed to buy some thinking time.
It’s one of two tics which dominate the family. He’s been away so much, he doesn’t have them, so he notices. The other comes up as he says, “I’ve already put the garbage out,” or, “I already ate lunch.”
The reply comes back, “Really?”
He mostly bites back the response, “No, I’m making these things up.”
Mostly.
A Late Wandering Thought
He watched a cricket cross the room. Twenty minutes later, the cricket crossed back over to the original side. It left him wondering, why did the cricket cross the room?
Maybe it was bad GPS. It happens.
Friday’s Wandering Thought
As the coffee maker brews more of its black magic, he leans close to the machine and urgently whispers, “Brew, little coffee maker. Brew, brew!” Naw, he doesn’t have a problem.
Wednesday’s Wandering Thought
Mom has lived in many cities, states, houses, and apartments. He’s now in his mid-sixties. She’s almost ninety. There’s been many changes, but she still has the same salt and pepper shakers that they used when he was a little boy.
Stalemate
It’s a classic conundrum: who will eat the last piece of blueberry pie? Everyone is being polite, telling others to take it. It’s been over twelve hours.
How much longer will the stalemate last?
Tuesday’s Wandering Thought
He’d often reminded himself not to trust his memory. He had too much confidence in it, and it frequently let him down. As other family members express frustration and disappointment with the others, telling their side of the story, he’s often reminded of how fallible memory can be. Their versions often don’t align at all.
Michael Seidel, writer 