Inside was a box, tied with red and white string and inside the box were charms and amulets for keeping the anxiety, the black dog, at bay which she had made with her very own hands. Here is one of the beautiful amulets.
There was also a note and as I read it, as I explored the contents of this box, tears came to me.
I put the tiny glass bottle filled with blue and green stones, silver charms and pearls around my neck and I wore it all day. Every time I looked down at it, I was filled with such sweetness. I can't even tell you. At night it shall hang from the glass heart beside my bed which another friend gave me a long time ago. I am overwhelmed with this gift. I feel blessed and protected.
I never expected...
I went to town and Gibson was charmed by my charms. He wanted it, badly, that tiny glass cork-stoppered bottle but as much as I love him, it is mine and although I let him touch it which he did, carefully, I would not let him put it around his neck and he was fine with that. He truly wants earrings, that boy. He fondles mine and says, "Ningnings?" and I ask him, "Do you want earrings, Gibson?"
"Yeah," he says, nodding from the his hair to his toes.
"Well, when you get older, you can have some. I promise."
And so he shall if he still wants them.
But he cannot have my amulet. It is mine and I cherish it, along with all of the other tiny gifts in that box which Mel sent me.
I sometimes cannot believe the community we have here. It is a joy of my life.
Lily and the boys and I were going to go take Boppy to get his rental car but Owen had a fit before we left and decided to stay home with his father who was cleaning the house. CLEANING THE HOUSE ON HIS DAY OFF! Have I told you recently how much I adore my son-in-law? My Jason?
The fit was my fault. I took Owen the loaf of bread he'd formed last Friday and he wanted to eat the entire thing right then and there and his mama and his daddy said, "No, you have to save some for later." It wasn't huge, but it was big enough to have given him a belly ache, had he eaten the whole thing. And because these days we are trying to be somewhat consistent in what we say and do for and with that boy, no one gave in, no one said, "Oh, go ahead. Eat it all." Which is such a temptation- I mean- oatmeal bread. But. The word had been given and it had to be stuck to and so he stayed at home because he was mad at us, even though his papa said that if he stayed home, he would have to clean his room and this is part of learning.
It is hard to be four.
It is hard to be any age and each and every age has its difficult lessons to learn. This never ends until death claims us, I believe. And who knows after that?
Not me, baby. Not me.
So Lily and Gibson and I had a jolly time of it, driving Boppy out to the west end of Tallahassee to get his rental car to take to Orlando. Boppy squeezed himself into the back seat of my car so that he could sit by Gibson who was completely and utterly happy to have his Boppy to himself.
"Game, Boppy?" he kept asking. He loves playing Wii games with Owen and his grandfather.
"Fishing, Boppy?" he also asked repeatedly. They pretend to fish from the couch and the bed with a real rod and reel and a stuffed fish that a friend made a long time ago. They can do this for hours, the boys taking turns running the hooked fish into another room, and reeling it in, cheering each time for the great catch which has been made. Boppy promised Gibson that yes, they would play games soon, they would fish soon, and that he would take them to fish for real in a true pond with true fish and Gibson shivered with delight.
We went to Publix after we dropped off Mr. Moon and Gibson practiced saying "Thank-you," to everyone who did anything which pleased him. I could listen to him say "thank-you" all day long, just as I could listen to him say, "Excuse me," all day long. Such a tiny man with such fine manners. He got to say "Thank-you" some more when we went to Costco and got samples of turkey and veggie straws and wait for it- Cookie Butter! Have you heard of this shit? It's like peanut butter only instead of being made from peanuts, it's made of cookies. What? What? What??!!
And you fucking spread it on cookies.
I am not making this up.
I hear it's a best seller at Trader Joe's too.
So yeah, we sampled that Cookie Butter and did not buy any. I mean- why would you do that? Why would you buy something that would ultimately lead to you, a spoon, and the consumption of ten billion calories in twenty minutes?
As we walked away from the sampler I said, "Well, I can cross that one off my bucket list."
And I meant it.
I have to buy crunchy peanut butter because I don't like it quite as much as I like creamy peanut butter. It's the only way to control myself. And that barely works. There is absolutely no excuse for eating more than one bite of this shit in one's entire life and that one bite can only be rationalized by wanting to know what it tastes like. Which is really, really good.
Here's Gibson, lounging on the kid's lounge chair you can now buy at the Costco. It comes with a kid-sized beach umbrella.
All right. He wasn't exactly lounging. Kids don't really lounge nor should they. As Lily so wisely pointed out, "That's more for taking pictures than actually using." But Gibson liked posing on it. He and I also pretended to nap on one of the couch consoles (I have no idea what the real name for them is) which they had at the Costco. "Nap?" he would say. And I would close my eyes and pretend to snore for about .5 seconds and then he would say, "Good morning!" and I would wake up and we would cuddle and laugh.
That didn't suck although his idea of a nap is not quite my idea of a nap.
So all of that was fun and we bought vegetables and prunes and organic frozen blueberries and plain Greek yogurt and chicken breasts and olive oil and coconut oil and bleach and I don't even know what all. A Star Wars ABC book for Owen whom we felt vaguely guilty about leaving at home. We did not buy cookie butter or lounge chairs for children or orchids or jewelry or flooring or lobster tails or scallops or even delicious pizzas made with lots of fresh basil and mozzarella which you can take home and bake or any of the giant chicken pot pies which look like they would satisfy the appetite of the Giant in Jack And The Beanstalk or wine or beer or chunks of cheese big enough to tide over an entire continent of French folk for a year.
It was a very successful Costco trip.
And Mr. Moon is in Orlando and I am here alone in Lloyd with laundry going and feeling loved and cherished and protected and blessed and the frogs are screeching and my kitchen needs mopping and tomorrow I might get hypnotized. Who knows? Not me. Again.
All right. Billy has finally and at long last started a blog. You may find it here.
If you are offended by the word "fuck" do not visit. Otherwise, go and see what he has to say about hanging out with his beloved Maw Maw.
Billy is not like anyone else in this entire world and neither is Maw Maw. I am grateful beyond measure to have both of these beloved people in my life as well as Billy's wife, Shayla and their son, Waylon. Sometimes when I see Billy I just start crying for no reason. That's how much I love him. And ooh boy, does he love his grandmother.
Life in North Florida. It's been a much better day than I thought it would be.