Life Lessons for $1000, please Alex

Growing up, I took a lot of things for granted. I knew for sure that my favourite sport was baseball (or softball, the girls version in a small town). I knew that even when my brother and I disagreed he would be my champion if someone else picked on me. I knew that my Mom wanted me to embrace my passions, to sing and play my life out loud, even if it meant listening to me banging on a drumset she was probably loathe to buy (but DID buy, knowing she would lose sleep and face the wrath of the neighbours). And I knew my Dad thought I was the apple of his eye, even when I visited him and fell further from the tree than he expected. I knew that my Uncle Bud understood all of those disconnected things, and tried to glue them all together for me. I just didn’t listen, because I was young and confident that I knew better. Being young and cocky robs us of the ability to appreciate the effort our loved ones put towards showing us the arrogance of our youth.

I am now 43 years old. Arthritis has robbed my hands of softball (I’d be glad to play the girls version of baseball, if even for a game). Even when I disagree with my brother I wish I could be his champion when heart problems pick on him. I want my Mom to see that even without that drumset I am singing my life out loud – and still pissing off the neighbors – and thanking her for encouraging me to do so. I hope my Dad appreciates that although I fell far from the tree, I now see where my roots are, and I know what kind of apple I am. And I hope Bud is watching from somewhere while I apply the glue to all of those things, creating a scrapbook of lessons I have collected since the day he left us.

Life Lessons for $1000, please Alex. xo