Thinking on a Thursday

I have been thinking today. I don't have any photos to share, just thoughts on this Thursday afternoon.

Winter of my sophomore year Celeste and I were at Filliberto's. It was the hang out of that year- like what Sonic is now to the students of Mountain View. Some remember it as having cat meat in the tacos, others have stories of finding needles in the burritos, but I remember it as the place where I scraped my green Jetta on that too high of a curb. Our windows were down, we heard the loud scrape, but people were laughing so I drove away as fast as possible. We pulled over in a local parking lot. I made Celeste look to see how bad the damage was. "Nothing," was her reply which gave us reason to go forward with out weekend night.

The next day the huge scrape was all you could see when you looked at the car. I believe Celeste and Jessica were both there when I cried and said, "I'm sorry, Daddy" over and over again.

My sweet mom said, "It was my fault." I couldn't let her take the blame, but how selfless of her to say that?

Skip a few years and come winter of my sophomore year of college. I was home for the holidays working at the dental office and babysitting for some extra cash. I was on my way from the office to the Schneider's house in Queen Creek driving "the nav" (my family always has nicknames for cars. The suburban was "the big G" growing up, navigator, "the nav," etc). I took a wrong turn. It was dark with no streetlights and I was late. I ended up scraping the back side of the car on a stop sign. I showed up at the Schneider's door sobbing. I still babysat that night and I said a prayer that lasted the entire drive home too.

My dad was out of town that night. When I showed my mom the car she said she would take the blame (again!). She comforted me and when I had to tell my dad what happened the next day he was very, very understanding. He was so nice about it that I felt guilty and felt that I should have been in more trouble.

Skip a few years and come to a few weeks ago on Grand Cayman Island. I dropped David off at work and was a bit early to the office. Dr. Veit wasn't there yet, so I stayed in the car and did my makeup. I took the key out of the ignition to stop the beeping sound and ended up locking and closing the door with the key on the seat. I thought I could solve the problem by using a wire hanger to unlock the door. The wire hanger did not unlock the door, but it did cause a huge chunk to come out of the black thing that seals the window and it also scraped off a bunch of paint (only visible after I had opened the door with a key). I was so nervous to tell my husband. So scared that he'd be mad. I didn't have my mom to say it was her fault. I had to be brave.

When I told David and showed him what I did he was just as sweet as my parents had been. I didn't get in trouble.

On one of these occasions I asked my mom why she didn't punish me more for breaking things as a child, or for ruining the cars. She said, "Because they are just things." She then told me a story from her childhood.

I think she was 4 or 5 when this happened. She said she had a very pretty teacher at school who wore beautiful dresses with matching belts around her small little waist. My Apu had made my mom a little dress and had some fabric left over. Withought apu knowing, my mom cut the fabric to make herself a belt to be like her teacher. She said that Apu was so upset about it and fifty or so years later my mom still remembers that she got in trouble. From this lesson she learned that she did not want her children to remember being punished for breaking, ruining, or wasting "things." By the way, my Apu is very kind and loving and was a wonderful mother and is a wonderful grandmother.

So, this what I was thinking about today.

I was also thinking about how it had been so long since I had cried about being homesick. I am homesick, don't get me wrong, but I talk to my family ever single day and email them often too. But, when I received my birthday package from my parents the other day I saw my mom's beautiful cursive handwriting and immediately cried. It wasn't even what she said that made me cry, it was just seeing that curly, elegant, penmanship that I have known all my life. It made me miss her and the rest of my family. I agree with what she wrote, "Looking forward to spending your next birthday together at home."