Tag: family

Promises.

Daily writing prompt
What’s a promise you made to yourself that you’ve actually kept?
View all responses

I have probably made a million promises to myself that most I didn’t keep. But I’ll always have one that I kept because it’s something I needed for myself: be true to who I am && love myself.

Let’s start here for a moment: I went this past Saturday (the 18th) to the reunion of the high school class I attended school with. One comment stuck out to me the most. One of the guys I had no issues with growing up stopped, leaned against a chair && told me, “Barb. You really did come out of your shell since school.”

Came out of my shell.

That wasn’t easy for me. I let my personality, as I do believe I have stated, be defined by the people that has been in my life. Not so much just high school peers, but everyone. I have always been the “fat friend”, the “ugly friend”, the “friend that doesn’t care”. When you hit a certain age, you realize you can’t live your life like that.

I’m also not saying that I’m no longer the “fat, ugly, friend that doesn’t care”. What I’m saying is that I found myself along the way. I dropped friends, I moved on, and I had to come to terms with who I am && it’s all I can be. Sometimes, I wish more people could do that sooner in life. It wasn’t “soon” in my life, either && sometimes I’m sad about that. I lived a very long time believing what others said or thought.

It took an emotional breakdown.
Losing friends.
Having ex-boyfriends ask me why my friends didn’t like them.
Hearing statements like “if you were thinner, you’d be cute.”

The emotional breakdown – I was twenty. My brother had no idea what to do because when I broke – I broke. He ended up sending me to my grandfather’s house. For four months I lived in Amarillo, Texas and spent time with my grandfather *mom’s dad*, and my Aunt & Uncle *dad’s brother*. I ran to Amarillo a lot when I was younger. 15. 17. 20. I remember spending my 21st birthday with my grandfather (Papa Dad). I remember him buying me a birthday cake, it was yellow. Him && I spent the evening together watching television and having cake. That was probably one of my favorite birthday’s.

I walked away from many friends. Friends who weren’t doing anything for me mentally, emotionally, or helping my maturity level. It was hard and anyone that had to walk away from friendships understand, but for me to find me, love me, enjoy me – finally be the person I always wanted – I had to walk away.

Ex-boyfriends are exes for a reason. I can say that my last boyfriend was when I was 21 – after him, the two before, I realized that what I was searching for in a guy I wasn’t going to find. At least there, in that point in my life. So, I stopped. I just stopped. Of course, when someone asked, I always said what they expected, “guys don’t find me attractive and I’m happy just being the friend.” I had a guy tell me once, “it’s cute that you like me, but you’re not my type”. I wasn’t attracted to him – but for some reason, it never failed, if I was nice to a guy, they just assumed that I wanted them. I didn’t. && yes, I did have an ex-boyfriend ask me why my friends didn’t like him like that. I was single until I was twenty-six and I think it’s because the guy I wanted, that I felt a connection with, I had “met” when I was eighteen. I honestly think I secretly compared all the guys after that (which was all of my exes) to THAT guy.

He came back when I was twenty-six. We’re married now.

Just an FYI, moment. I have lost 150 pounds since November 2024 – I look exactly the same. So, if I were ugly then.. I’m still ugly.

But for me. I do agree that I came out of my shell. It’s because I found me. I found my personality. Do I still have days that are hard? Yes. I think I always will. However, my promise to myself to be a better me and be happy and love myself – I’ve kept that.

Even on the hardest of day.
Even on the days I start laughing so hard I end up crying.
Even the days where I’m alone, leaning on a wall watching people interact and looking straight through me.
Even the moments where I don’t understand what’s happening in my head.
Even the times where I lose my crap and scream at a co-worker and end up in trouble.
Even the hours where I just want to sit in bed in the dark listening to “I Love Lucy”.
Even the points in life where nothing makes me happy and I just exist.

In all of those moments – I will still always choose myself.

I know what I want out of life. && I’ll make a promise on top of my best promise – I promise that I will achieve what I want. Even if it takes me until I’m 96 – I will achieve my goals.

Memories

I didn’t graduate high school.

I should have been class of 2006 – I ended up being “class of 2024” after I did classes online through my local library. They paid for it as long as you finished; which I did. A lot of people, as they get older, try to figure out the one thing they regret would do over if they had the chance.

This was mine.

Sometimes I wish I would have been different in high school. I wish I would have cared more. I wish I would have had a personality. I wish I wouldn’t have let what people said or thought make me who I was. I feel my personality was shaped by other people and not myself. I wonder a lot if that’s why it took me so long to find >me<. If it was why I let people walk over me. Make decisions for me.

It has taken years to get over that hump. Sometimes, I fall back into that pattern && I hate myself for it.

What has me reminiscing about high school? 2026 should be my 20-year mark. People celebrate that. I was invited. I should be happy to know that people, who I should have graduated with, still remembers me. Still thinks of me as part of them – the whole circle. Do I think all of them will? Absolutely not. Am I going? Honestly, I don’t know. It’s on Saturday – tomorrow is Friday.

I made it to the second month of my junior year before I walked away. When asked I usually give the same answer – they wouldn’t let me have band. But I think there was so much more to it than that. When I enrolled for my junior year, I was late, so I ended up enrolling in the library with the school counselor and vice-principal. I had no issues there.

Two years prior, keep in mind, I had buried my mom – that took a toll. So, when I enrolled into my junior year, they said I would have to give up two electives, but it would keep me with my class && I’d be able to graduate with them. That’s all I wanted. I ended up having a sophomore and junior English class, and a sophomore and junior math class. No issues.

The only elective I wanted was high school marching band. I had been in band since I was in sixth grade, and it’s what I chose. This was the first push. The vice-principal said, “You can’t have high school band. You have to have been in band throughout school, you can’t just enter band.” That was a big moment for me – it’s the moment I realized I was insignificant. Our vice-principal was the type of person who knew all – everyone, and everything they were doing. She could pinpoint what people were going to choose before they chose it. But for me? She didn’t even realize I was in the band. Every Friday night football games, I was in the bleachers – she never noticed. No one ever noticed.

That was heartbreaking for a sixteen-year-old. Especially when you go to a small school (my graduating class had maybe thirty people) and no one noticed me. She went on to tell me if I just wanted a class with that teacher, he had another, music appreciation. That’s what I ended up with.

I didn’t want that.

The second push? I was in a class with a close friend. I always paid attention to the classes I took. Shockingly, I actually enjoyed school. But that day, it still replays in my mind, was the first time someone had told me, “Stop talking, I’m trying to pay attention.” It seems small. I was sixteen after all.

Number three. The last straw. The straw that made me not go back. I remember that morning very well in my mind. I got up in a good mood. I got dressed; I really tried to look nice. I wanted to turn over a new leaf. I wanted to be better. I got to school – no one noticed. I wasn’t noticed. I stood in front of my locker and just listened to everyone talk, and laugh, and hang out. No one had even said good morning to me.

I. Was. Insignificant. I wasn’t rememberable. No one saw me. Noticed me. I finished the day in silence. I went home. I never went back.

Sometimes I wish someone had cared enough to stop me. Tell me that they wanted me there. Wanted to see me. Wanted to help me finish school. Tell me that they’d do anything to make it happen. But I didn’t get that. I didn’t even have a moment where someone was mad, or sad, or annoyed – no one said “Hey! Why don’t you stick it out? We know today was a bad day but sticking it out would be good.” Because no one asked. No one saw. No one noticed.

I was personality-less.

I disappeared. We had moved out of town – no one saw me for years. I lived on the internet. I was trying to find someone, anywhere, to feel human. To know someone cared. I found it online with strangers. That trend lasted for many years. But that’s for a different day. Today is about teenager high school Barb.

I wish I had been different. I know I say that a lot. But it’s true. I did try a couple times to be/do different. I tried out for cheerleading – I had always wanted to be a cheerleader. I tried out for flag corp. It wasn’t cheerleading, but it was something. Both times I was told no – for the same reason. At least I’m consistent. They both said, “you don’t have enough school spirit.” I wish I had been happier.

I wonder if I had been happier, would high school have been different?
If I had not buried my mom was a freshman, would high school have been different?
If I had smiled more, or tried more, would high school have been different?
If high school had been different, would I have graduated?

When I started my junior year, I was excited. I was looking forward to the last two years of school. I wanted to go to prom, hang out with friends, have a skip day, go to homecoming. I wanted to stand in the hallway on the last day of high school and sign yearbooks and be sad that I was leaving. I wanted the moment where I had realized that I was now an adult and nothing would be the same. I wanted the days and months where I struggled to figure out what college I wanted to attend. I wanted to stress about leaving friends and schoolmates. I wanted to tell them all, “we will stay in touch” – even tho we all knew we wouldn’t.

But I didn’t get that. I took that away from myself. I let it slip away in a blink of an eye.

The question remains. Do I go on Saturday or flake on the couple I told that I would go?

I stopped…

I stopped writing.

Not because I didn’t want to. But because I can’t.

When I sit down to write my brain stops. Empties itself and everything is gone. Think of the episode of Spongebob when Squidward tells him to forget everything except fine dining and the inner-Spongebob’s throw everything away leaving only that. Spongebob forgets his name, his family, his everything – except for fine dining.

That’s what I have felt like lately when I attempt to write. Except, of course, I know nothing about fine dining.

Writing, even reading, has been a way to get my thoughts out and make life a little more bearable. I broke down at work yesterday. Last week I yelled at co-workers, not in a supervisory-yell-at-someome, but a full blown yell-when-I-know-better-but-I-did-and-upset-other-people.

I told the husband today maybe I need to go back to writing. Stop trying to “fix” myself when I know what helps. My manager asked me to go talk to a ‘therapist’. My job has a program that we can utilize for free where you can just go talk to someone. She wants me to really think about going to them – they are on property at work – I’d just have to walk up the stairs and into their office. I will think about it – which is what I told her – but I think first I will get back to writing.

This is me attempting that.
This is me coming back to the written word.
This is me trying to overcome the hurdle I keep tripping over.

I used to keep a blog on blogger.com where I would just sit and type. I would just talk. Think about a fourteen-year-old girl with her very first diary, which is hidden under the mattress of her canopy bed, hiding but in plain sight. No one would think to look there, right? She’d open it nightly and just scribble about her thoughts, her crushes, her dreams, her desires. That was me on blogger. When I switched to WordPress, because I liked the site more, I still did that but tended to move in other directions. I have been using it more for “what do I want out of life”. I know that answer deep inside, I don’t know why I keep asking it.

I need to get back to that.
I need to sit down once a day or possibly twice a day & just write.
Write out feelings.
Thoughts.
Crushes.
Dreams.
Desires.

It’s not even me being worried that I will be embarrassed by what I could possibly write or say. I won’t say no one, but not very many people read this. && if they do, honestly, in person – no one says anything to me about it.

I do have a great post to write soon! Remember how I went to see Jet Tila in Broken Bow, Oklahoma? Remember when I said next, we were going to see Maneet Chauhan? We did! I’ll have to upload pictures soon!

As I Get Older.

I lost my grandmother when I was in the 7th grade. So, the little things she done I found a little weird. For example, as long as I can remember she called me “Robert”. I don’t know why. By the time I started to get curious, she had already passed away. I never got to ask.

But as I get older I realize a lot of what I thought was weird, prolly isn’t as weird as I thought.

  1. During the summer, she took cold showers. I found that that strange – even in the summer. Why would someone do that? Lately, I have been taking showers and not turning on the hot. Mind you, I live in Southern Oklahoma, so our “cold water” isn’t cold. It’s… luke-cold. You know when you turn your water hose on for the first time in the summer. The first bit of water that comes out – that’s what the water feels like.
  2. My grandmother would run around her house with a pair of shorts && a bra – that’s it. I laugh about it now but as a kid – that’s weird. But I understand it now. My grandmother lived in a two bedroom trailer house from 1991 until her death in 2001. Her trailer had no AC except for window units. I understand the pain and exhaustion that comes from sitting in your house burning up because you don’t have an AC. I have one – in my bedroom (which is where I am lying while I type this on my phone) – so it is the only cool room. We tried to purchase window units for our living area in hopes that it would cool off in there – but there is too much open space, so it never actually helped. I would need an industrial sized AC && I just cannot afford that.

I’m tired of the summer now. I know there are a few who are enjoying the heat && they want it forever. But today, when I got off work, it was 102°F (38.8°C). It was 3:30 PM when I got home. I tried sleeping last night && it was hard since it was 90°F && even with my AC in my small bedroom – it was hot.

I’m ready for cold weather. Or at least the cooler weather we get during fall && winter. Usually late October it starts getting into degrees that I enjoy. Boyfriend keeps saying September should be better. But lately it’s hot then too.

You want to know what time it gets cool in my room? Between 2:00 am && 4:00 am. Want to know what time I was up for work? 3:00 am.

Parents.

What were your parents doing at your age?

I am 36 years old right now.

My parents – at 36:

My mom was 36 in 1998 – a mother of two and married to my father. Four years before she passed away. My brother was 12 && I was 11. She worked at… I want to say a restaurant called “Baldwins” – she was a cook.

My dad was 36 in 1983 – a father of four (three boys && one girl) and married to his second wife – who he was in the process of divorcing. He was a drunk – this was a year before he met my mother – three years before they’d be married. If memories are correct, he’d go to jail at night && sleep there, during the day they’d let him out to go to work. He worked at a… junk yard? named Dulaney’s in Amarillo, Texas.

I never really notice an age difference until I start doing things like this. My mom was 36 in 1998 when my dad was 51 – my dad was 36 in 1983 when my mom was 21. In 1983, my dad had four children, ages 16, 14, 7, & 4. They both lived in Amarillo, Texas though.

They eventually met in 1984. Got married in 1986 on their lunch break at work and went bowling that night.

They are both gone now. Mom died in 2003 at 40. Dad died in 2011 at 63.

Cat Babies.

Bloganuary writing prompt
If you could make your pet understand one thing, what would it be?
View all responses

If I had to pick one thing, && only one thing – I would want them to understand how much I love them.

We have accumulated a lot of cats through the years – not on purpose – some are strays, some are babies of a stray that we thought was a boy who turned out to be a girl cat && now we call her Mommy Bean. Some of them irritate the snot out of me – because you know, they are cats. But at the same time, I love them so much.

I think I’ve mentioned how before I would actually chuckle at people who told me their pets were like children to them. Because who could feel like that? && up until Dotty was born, &&& I fell in love with her, I didn’t think it was possible. But I did. I fell for that Siamese cat like it was something I do all the time.

I’ve had pets before Dotty. I had a cat when I was 15, Kitty Kittie (it’s all she’d answer to), but when I lost her it didn’t hit me like it did Dotty’s death. It’s been almost a year and I still miss her so much. Still cry. Still miss her trying to smother my head. 

When I lost her I didn’t want the other cats anymore. Because it hurt my heart to look at them. Horrible, yes, I know. But Lucci, Dotty’s Uncle – he knew I was hurting and sad because he was trying to do what Dotty used to do. Lucci, I love that cat && I hope he knows just how much I love him. I hope Dotty knew how much I loved her. Because I did. I loved her way too much. 

My brother && I have always said that we were going to get a really big piece of land && put houses on it together. I told him I was still down for it. But I can’t now. I buried her in this yard && I refuse to leave her again. I guess if I win the lottery I’ll just have to buy out this road.

Heart Broken.

I talk to a dead cat every day.

January 2021, our cat Penelope had kittens. All of them died except one. I became fond of the little kitten but we had no intentions of keeping her. I was going to find her a new home. (We already had too many cats.)

After she was born I was hospitalized, y’all remember that. When I got home she had a boo-boo on the top of her head. Her mom, Penelope, && Penelopes sister, Benson, got into a fight over her and booped her head. We named her Dotty.

After a bit that spot turned black – not a bad black, she basically ended up with a dot on her head that was black. As she aged a lot of her white darkened. She ended up looking Siamese.

Her and I bonded. We got very close. I fell in love with her when she was a baby. Completely head over heels. She got older, bigger, darker. She slept with me, && would want me to hold her like a baby rocking her as she slept. I called her Babykins. She was my baby.

Two weeks ago she never came home. I waited three days before I really started to freak out. By Friday I needed her home. So I went out looking for her. Walking around our small town I knew she wouldn’t go far. I even asked a Facebook Community page for help.

I found her. 💔

I know people always tell me that they don’t see their animals as animals but as children. I never understood that. Until her. She was special to me. She made me happy. &&& I know she loved me just as much as I loved her. (Even if I did read someone say that animals don’t love us that they only seem like it because they depended on us for food.)

She was down the road. Wet. Dirty. Which was things she hated more than anything. I wish I had went looking for her Wednesday, but I don’t think it would have mattered.

We have a set of aggressive dogs on our street. Mind you, I wasn’t there && at first I thought she was hit by a car. But this past Saturday we found another one of our cats, mauled to death in our back yard. I’m about 100% sure that Babykins was killed by the dogs.

When I found her. A piece of me broke in half. I feel like I’m missing something. A small part of me. A part of my happiness disappeared with her. I picked her limp body up and carried her home with no feelings in my legs. Couldn’t see through the tears. My lungs felt empty. I couldn’t breathe.

I sat on my front porch, alone, crying holding her like I did when she was alive. Close to my chest, rocking her back and forth, crying.

I went to work the next day. I shouldn’t have. For 12.5 hours I sat at my desk and cried. I wasn’t in the correct mindset to be there. I got nothing accomplished. But I went because I had no choice.

Milo, the other cat we found, was our baby. We got him April 2018, and he was solid white && deaf. He was a rescue that we got as a kitten. We raised him. He raised the other cats. We weren’t here for his but I’m pretty sure that Lucci, another one of our cats saw it. He witnessed Milos death. I think this because he has bite marks on his back and side.

Milo

Milo had no chance && I fear that Lucci tried to help but couldn’t. Lucci is now traumatized. Any noise he hears he jumps. Stares at the doors. Won’t go outside. You can tell he is sad.

Lucci

I talk to Babykins every day I walk by her spot. We buried her next to the porch. We put Milo on the other side. They are both there and I see their spots every day.

I really miss them.

Traditions.

Lately my mind as been extremely negative.

So much that The Boyfriend has been asking me why I’m so negative && I’m not one hundred percent sure why. I mean, it’s not like I haven’t noticed that I’m a little on the extra side right now. I’m trying so hard but at the same time my spirit is just gone.

I wanted to try && cheer myself up by writing about holiday traditions. If I have written about this in the past, I apologize, hopefully I don’t look like a complete idiot && say something that I didn’t the first time, but I don’t think I have, so there’s that.

First, I would like to admit that I don’t remember many of my Christmases. My memory doesn’t work like most, and I have said it before that some things I remember either didn’t happen or didn’t happen the way I remember it. The last Christmas I remember I was around eleven, maybe ten, I’m not sure. But I remember it was the last Christmas I spent with my grandmother.

Other than that, the only things I really remember is that I did celebrate Christmas growing up with my parents, I just don’t remember them. But I do remember the last few I have had. Like the first one with the Boyfriend. Although, that one isn’t as great of a memory as I wish. I had that planned out && knew it was going to be great! But with unforeseen circumstances, that Christmas was a bust because Boyfriend wasn’t at home on Christmas Day. He had to go do something that didn’t involve me, so I stayed at home – like I did for the next couple of Christmases when he had to go do something else. (I feel salty, but I’m not.)

I got over that.

The last few Christmases he has been home with me, so it’s made up for it.

Now, on to traditions. My mom loved Christmas – it was her favorite time of the year. She loved the tree (which she always wanted a solid white fake tree but was never able to get it. After she passed && I got older I began buying solid white fake trees for her, I felt as if it made her closer to me. I eventually stopped, mostly this year, I have a flocked tree, I believe that is what it’s called.) She loved the cooler weather, even if it doesn’t really get cold, she loved the lights, and the music && the food. Oh, she loved to cook for the family (even if I don’t remember it.)

A lot of her traditions I tried to keep going back as the years go on, I realize that I will never be up to par to my mom, but I’m pretty sure a lot of people say that. I remember that she would put the tree up Thanksgiving evening, && begin to buy presents. She would hide the gifts in her closet (which happened to be in my bedroom) && my brother && I would try to guess what was in the boxes – just like normal children. Sometimes, we would attempt to open the present && fix it before she noticed, but I don’t remember if we ever actually got into them or not.

Christmas Eve she’d have us go to bed super early && then would pull out the Santa Gifts, which were never wrapped, and put them out underneath the tree && fill our stockings with a bunch of great things. I can remember one year in my stocking was a ring, a tiny purple butterfly, I loved that ring, but I lost it. Sadly. That ring meant so much to me because I logically knew my mother picked it out. && anything my mother picked out, I loved. But that ring was something special for me.

Then Christmas Morning, my brother would always wake up first. He’d tiptoe into my bedroom && wake me up && we’d sneak into the living room && just sit in front of the tree until our mom && dad woke up. I know my mom enjoyed making a Christmas breakfast, but I don’t know if it was the day of or the day before.

My brother always says that our mom let us open on gift on Christmas Eve, but I don’t remember that. But I think that was him just trying to get me to let him open a gift.

After my mom passed away, I tried everything I could do keep the spirit for Christmas in the house, but I couldn’t, so I eventually just stopped trying. I know we always had a small tree, but it never felt right so that eventually just faded.

When my brother started dating older woman who had children, I attempted to make it feel festive for the kids. I hope I always did a good job, but for me, there’s always been something missing. When I lived alone, I bought a four-foot tree and decorated it && put up a stocking for myself. But I still felt like something was missing.

I am 34 now – I have no children – it’s just Boyfriend && Myself. When him && I first got together he said he came with children. That part perked me up thinking about all the holidays that I could make fantastic for them. I really thought it would help me find my groove && create my own traditions that they’d talk about even after I’m gone. Or tell stories to their friends or family about the nice things I did.

I still don’t have any traditions. I buy gifts for a few people. I put up a tree. I try to decorate outside (we got half the porch done this year.) I used to make a big dinner for Christmas, but I don’t have the spirit for that anymore either. I’m trying so hard – to the point that I wanted to leave for a vacation to a town that is known for Christmas so maybe I could find it.

Christmas has always been my favorite time of the year, but lately, I feel as if I am doing it all wrong && just making everyone’s life around me miserable. I feel like sometimes I force Boyfriend to buy me gifts && I force others around me to enjoy the holiday season because I feel like I should be – but I’m not.

This year has been extremely hard && I was hoping by November && into December that maybe my spirits would be up. But just a few moments ago I was thinking that I probably need to make a will – yes, a will. Just in case I die && there won’t be any issues when it comes to my stuff. Not that I have much. But what I do have I would want to go to specific people. Which this all makes me even sadder && more negative. Because I don’t want to think about death at 34, but it’s a realization I must come to terms with, because I have already tried to die once this year. Then all this talk takes my brain into a whole different topic.

I have been watching a lot of Christmas movies this year. Every year I buy Hallmark Movies Now && try to watch them. Last couple of years I didn’t really, but this year I have watched so many. Boyfriend && I sleep differently (he works nights && I work mornings) so when he is asleep, I’ll watch Christmas/Romantic movies. When I’m asleep he plays video games, lately it’s basically been Diablo 2.

I wanted to start a tradition where for Christmas Dinner Boyfriend && I go have Chinese (my favorite food), then go home && open gifts. Or even just go get the food, take it open, eat && open gifts while a corny Christmas movie plays in the background, like The Santa Claus. We did that last year on December 24th. We went to the next town over && dined in, eating Chinese before going home && opening gifts. it worked out well last year.

This year I have no idea what’s happening.

Thanksgiving 2019: A Success!

This year seemed to be the same thing all around with most people “we didn’t have a lot of people and everything was pretty chill”. I am basically on that boat. We ended up having Thanksgiving a few days late (I had to work Thanksgiving) and I wanted to do a day everyone was off but that never seems to work out for me. So Tuesday, December 3rd it was.

Most years I find holidays annoying (yes, I seriously just said that). I have my reasons but if I put it here, someone reads it, now I have complications on my hands. Let’s just say that this year was enjoyable. Boyfriend & I started making dinner around ten in the morning – we put on the turkey, ham, && duck. Yes, I said duck; I wanted to try something new this year and I figured I’d give duck a shot. Basically, I gave it a shot && probably will never give it a shot again. Unless I go somewhere fancy and give it one cooked by professionals. Mine felt like tofu… it was weird.

Our day was so chill that I was basically finished with dinner by two o’clock && still had to wait for the Brother to show up. So, instead of fretting, and worrying, and freaking out, and flipping my girly wits! I took a nap in my chair as Boyfriend played on the xBox in the living room. I feel that’s what terrorizes people on holidays – the freaking out. I decided not to.

Naps are better.

By around six when the Brother showed up (this is the time he was supposed to arrive, he wasn’t late) dinner was ready and everyone could enjoy the labor of my cooking. We sat and ate, talked, and watched television. It was nice. Lots of laughter and food.

Now I just have to get ready for Christmas dinner in a few weeks – now to decide what I will cook for that day. Maybe something different? Christmas Spaghetti?

A Letter:

Daily Prompt:

Who is the person in your life who can do no wrong? Describe this person and tell us why you hold them in such high esteem.

 

Dear Timothy,

There are not many people left that I truly cherish.  We have been through a lot and every day we face more side by side.  At times it feels like a dream, and we’re sucked into it.  I feel, sometimes, if someone pinched us hard enough we’d wake up and we’d be 15 & 16 again.  Back to reality.  Back to the life we knew was ours.

We an Hansel & Gretel, if you will.  A fairy tale brought to life.  (I’ve been watching too much “Once Upon a Time.”)

I know that isn’t true.  We aren’t dreaming.  We are living life the way we are supposed to.  However, my dear brother, I know there is so much more we have to face.  Together.

I was asked today who is the most precious person in my life.  The only person I could think of was you.  You are everything in my life.  If I ever lost you I have no idea what I would do.  How I would go on.

You’ve always been the strong one.  The one that isn’t afraid.  That doesn’t shed many tears.  Someone with a heart of gold, even if you decided to stop believing so high of yourself.  You’re intelligent, nice, and do so much for so many people who take you for granted.  I know people think, sometimes, that you’re no good.  But to me, you’re exactly what people need in their lives.  

You are comparably different than everyone in my life.  You are the only one left that tells me how it is.  The only person I can honestly put all of my faith in and know that I won’t be disappointed in the end.  I know, just as you do, you’ve disappointed me.  But not on purpose, and I know this.  

Nobody is perfect.

But I know you will always be damn near perfect in my eyes.  You are my big brother.  Someone who sticks up for me.  Believes in me.  Takes care of me.  I know that as long as you’re near me I can accomplish anything I want.  You’re more of inspiration to me than you’ll ever know, and I want to thank you.  I love you more than you’ll ever know and don’t want you to forget it.  

Love always,

Your Little Sister.