Above image from K and D’s engagement session. Can’t wait for their wedding on the 18th!!
Happy Memorial Day.
The yard sale went well. We sold all our big stuff within the first 15 minutes. Plus, we get to keep most of it to use until we move, so that’s pretty fancy. They boys are outside “enjoying” their last shebang on the playground before the new owner comes to pick it up in about an hour. I say “enjoying,” because from the sound of things, I’m pretty certain it’s all out war.
I’m hiding in my bedroom. Don’t tell anyone.
Now it’s just time to dig through boxes and drawers and deal with all the BILLIONS of papers we’ve accumulated over the last 10 years. 63% of me wants to just close my eyes and feed the paper shredder . . . unfortunately my voice of reason lives in the remaining 37% and she says, “there might be ONE thing in there that’s vitally important!”
Since my brother died, every now and then I find little notes or drawings when I’m going through old paperwork. They are absolute treasures. Once, about a year ago, I found a notebook he’d used during the week he took his “vow of silence.” Yes, for no apparent reason, Gavin decided not to speak for an entire week. He likely just wanted to prove that he could. Flipping through that notebook, I remembered how during that week of silence, he got pulled over by a police officer, and handled the entire situation without ever once opening his mouth. From what I remember, he was let off simply because the cop didn’t quite know how to respond to the madness. He sold his truck that week as well. . . again, without ever opening his mouth.
Everything that went from his pen to paper is absolutely brilliant, and discovering things like this helps me remember that he really did LIVE, that he’s not just a figment of my imagination from a former, less complicated life. . . so. . . I’m going to spend a good portion of this day carefully going through paper after paper after paper hoping for brilliance.
Come to think of it, I guess this really is a wonderful way to spend Memorial Day. . . searching for memorials. . . ??
In Reality? This is all just a feeble attempt to mentally glamorize what will likely be me, sitting on the floor, in my pajamas, thumbing through a bunch of old bank statements and tithing receipts.