Today was James the Maintenance Man’s last day. If you don’t remember James, I mentioned him in a previous post when he dropped some serious knowledge on me. Today, with his goodbye, he managed to do so again. He always says the most beautiful things. They are simple, true, and spoken in a blues like rhythm. I’ll miss his life advice, which always seemed to find me at the perfect times.
“They said you had some pretty big shoes to fill, but you know what? Ya brought your own shoes to the party.”
“God said, ‘Stop working on everybody else! Stop tryin to change everybody. Let me change you, and then other people will see, and they’ll change too.”
“Some of the most beautiful flowers grow in the ditch.”
“I hope you can use your creative juices here. If not, they’ll get so heavy and you’ll have to go. And that’s ok.”
“When you fall in love and get married, you think you gonn wear it like a crown. Oh, you gonn have a crown, all right, but it ain’t for you. It ain’t never for you. It’s for him. And Him.”
“I got to tell these boys. You got a great woman? Serve her. Serve her and you’ll always be happy. Your the server and she’s the customer. If you start out with a bad attitude, you’re not gettin a very good tip. But if go above and beyond, see, you’ll get the reward right back.”
Today’s Writing 101: You stumble upon a random letter on the path. You read it. It affects you deeply, and you wish it could be returned to the person to which it’s addressed. Write a story about this encounter.
Today’s twist: Approach this post in as few words as possible.
I am not the finder, I am the scribe. This city is littered with my love.
Moreloveletters.com…you can litter, too.
At 2:00am today, Sarah had Isaiah. I can’t stop staring at his little photograph. It’s like I’m glued to it. I can’t imagine how she must feel, this same feeling times a million, with him making sweet, helpless noises from her arms.
I’m so overcome with how full life is in it’s circular nature, and how beautiful. To think that we, we girls are becoming mothers. We girls who would muddy our tights up and dig traps for robbers with our tiny fingers. Who would squash berries from Gran’s garden and argue about who got to be which boxcar child. ( I always wanted to be Violet, even though I had never read a lick of the books.) The girls who grew up hundreds of miles away, but always stayed sisters, through handwritten letters, plane trips, and week long visits that always seemed to get sucked up into some time vacuum.
It still baffles me that the girls have grown up. I remember when I first began to feel it happening, small shifts in our little world that signaled to us: adulthood is coming. “I wonder what it will bring,” one of us said one year on a beach.
I never realized just how beautiful it would be, adulthood with you girls. And I never thought I could love anything the way I love your little ones. It’s so inexplicable the way you can instantly love someone to death, through and through, that you would do anything for them. It’s a love so innate, that begins the moment you hear that, finally, after nine long months, they are here.
And just like that, without another word, without meeting, without any of it, you love them madly.
That moment when your boyfriend casually mentions you’re going to see Kings of Leon. “Oh, I didn’t tell you?”
There is a voicemail flashing red on my inbox.
I dial 500 and a weak voiced, old woman comes on. “Please have Mr. Felix Johnson’s name taken off your televised prayer list, as he recently passed away, and please replace it with my name, Mrs. Peggie Johnson. Thank you.”
In an instant I can feel your hand in mine.