MORNING SONG, MOVIES AND MISSING THE KIDS

Morning song: Count Your Blessings. I don't know if this was for me or for someone who reads this blog, not that many read this. Here are all the words.

When I was a teenager and Mom and I would have a fight she would walk away singing this song. It nearly drove me crazy, CRAZY. The thought of someone telling me to count my blessings still bothers me a little but the message is comforting.

This afternoon we went to the movie "I Am Legend." Oh my. I love any movie about the end of the world, genetic engineering, big scary monsters--to a point--etc. When I write a story it is almost always about the protagonist hiding from someone or tragedy taking a large part of the population and the protagonist being alone, but this one was too much for me. I've used enough adrenaline for a month. And what's with poor Will Smith? This is the second movie where there was too much pursuit and not enough happiness. I'm ready for a good comedy.

The company was good, Phil, my son and daughter-in-law. After the movie we came home and had a feast, a little of everything imaginable and polish hot dogs. Trish and I were freezing so we brought mint truffle hot chocolate downstairs in front of the fire. They are leaving tomorrow and I am so sad. I want to freeze time and keep them here for a week. I hate separations. I am selfish, I know it. I want those I love around me a lot. I miss the rest of the kids. I wish I had a huge house--well, except for the cleaning it would take and the mortage and the cost to heat it--but, if I did have a huge house I would fill it with people I love.

So, though I am content tonight I am lonesome already for Bentley and Trish. And my other kids and their spouces and the grandkids and my friends, that I don't see enough of.

So, I'm forcing myself to be happy with the time I have left and not to be sad when I see them drive off. But, now I understand why Mom stood outside--in the summer--or on the back porch--in the winter--and waved and wiped her eyes until we were out of sight. I do that now too, even before they leave.