Posted in 2026, stories

It’s Him, Not You

What’s one thing you know now that would have saved your younger self a lot of pain?

It had been over 40 years since Nancy looked inside the box of “stuff” she’d been shuttling from house to house with every move. After this last, and she swore final, move, it got tucked away in the corner of the attic along with the old skis and Cody’s baby clothes.

The attic needed to be cleaned out for the central air unit being installed. Mark brought the box down and laid it at her feet saying, “I’ve moved this box 100 times, are you ready to let go of it?”. “Not without going through it first!”. “Well then, get on it”, and he walked away.

She opened it slowly, waiting to see if a mouse would be staring up at her. “No mouse, whew!”, she thought. But oh, what is this?

Sitting on top was her diary. Nancy was ten years old when she received it that Christmas from her older sister. What a find!

She settled back in her comfy chair and started reading. Five years. Some much changed between ages ten and 15. There were even some entries from when she was in college!

For a few entries she cringed, but most of them brought a smile to her face.

While flipping through the pages, something fell out. It was a note from a boyfriend when she was in her sophomore year of high school and she remembered clearly, it didn’t end well.

She read through the note and remembered how sad it made her. Everything he said he didn’t like, was her! She was 15, of course she was emotional! She was a cheerleader and a very friendly person in general, but he accused her of flirting. “Love of oneself, blinds one to one’s own faults”?! “What are you, Shakespeare?What the hell”, she thought, and followed that with “Fuck You!”.

The note brought those 15 year old emotions back to the surface and she remembered when the relationship ended how she tried to make herself smaller so she wouldn’t draw attention to herself. She had hoped he would see that she wasn’t that person any more and he would want to go back out with her. It hadn’t worked, he had moved on.

They say Hindsight is 20/20, and Nancy wished she could teleport herself back to 1976 to tell her younger self, “Be You. Be Brave. Be Kind to yourself. Never make yourself small to fit into someone’s idea of you. Regardless of what he said, Love yourself. The problem was not you, it was Him. The hangups were on him, not you.”

Nancy sat and read entries from her diary until the sun began setting through the trees. She enjoyed reading those moments in time, but she was happy she didn’t have to relive them!

Posted in 2026, Memories

Family Illness

I’m reading Anne Lamott’s biography “Traveling Mercies”. She grew up in an intelligent and somewhat dysfunctional family.

She was out of college when her father complained of feeling “odd” and said the words he would type came out very different from what he intended. He was diagnosed with a metastatic melanoma on the “word part” of his brain. He would have surgery to take out as much of the tumor as they could, but they couldn’t get it all (those brain tumors and cancers are nasty creatures with tentacles burrowing deep into all parts of a person’s brain). In addition, he had aggressive radiation and chemotherapy, and he would have one good year where he could “work on and off, walk every day, see his sons graduate, and his daughter publish a book”. As he declined, he was taken care of by his family until he lapsed into a coma and passed away.

Whenever I read stories of people who had brain tumors or brain cancer, I think of my mother and her short-lived experience with brain cancer. And now I realize it was short-lived for us, not her. She lived with it, suspecting, knowing something was wrong, and just said nothing. Nothing. She kept it tucked away and lived with it as her burden, so she wouldn’t burden us. 2 years? 3 years? I don’t know. But for us, we had eight weeks from her “diagnosis” to her death.

What would it have been like if she had said something maybe a year prior? Would surgery or chemotherapy have been available to her? It was Glioblastoma Multiforme after all, the nastiest of the nasty.

With eight weeks, my sisters, father, and I rallied around her and did what needed to be done. She was home with two aunts coming in every day while Dad and I went to work. In the evenings, he, my local sister, and I switched off, and on the weekends my out-of-state sister came to relieve us all. What would a one- or two-year journey have been like for her and for our family?

I have great empathy when I hear that people are going through illnesses with family members. I know the toll it can take on physical and mental health; with just eight weeks of it, I cannot imagine years’ worth.

Posted in 2026, life

What’s Love?

It’s my husband making hardboiled eggs unprompted so I can have an egg salad sandwich for lunch.

It’s emptying the dishwasher even though I’m short on time so he doesn’t have to come back home to dirty dishes in the sink.

Love. It’s what we do.

Posted in 2024, thoughts, Writing

No Man is an Island, but sometimes…

If you had a freeway billboard, what would it say?

This quote is one of my favorites, but I can’t say I’ve always followed it! I have no problem with the “love many”, but sometimes for certain reasons, I didn’t listen to my instincts (or was persuaded otherwise) on the “trust few”!

What do you think about this quote and how it applies to you?