The other night a couple of friends stopped by to visit and sit on the lawn swings. She was telling us about her family. She had six kids. They had kids. Their kids had kids, now there are over 100 in her family. She is the most beautiful eighty-eight year old woman I have ever seen. Her hair is gray, curly and long.
She recently lost one of her sons--she didn't misplace him, he died. (When someone says "She/he lost someone," I want to ask if they ever found them. I don't actually ask that--i just want to.) He was only sixty-five. Two of her children have a serious illness. Some of her family have strayed from their religion. Some are doing "interesting" things. Of course a lot of them are boringly normal and she likes boring. Boring is good. Boring allows her to keep her sanity.
She sighed and then said, all in one long drawn out breath, "Do you have kids? I suggest you nip their little heads off before birth." Then she laughed and her eyes twinkled. Who knew this beautiful eight-eight year old had such a pithy sense of humor?
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Okay, can I just say I sooo agree with what you say about "losing" people? If only it were that simple! When people talk about me losing my daughter, I envision looking under the living room rug or the perhaps the crisper drawer, or did I leave her in the potato bin at the Armenian market? It would be nice if I had simply "lost," her, then I would look real hard, and I would "find" her!
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