May 12, 2019•778 words
Today is Mother's Day, and my wife and I celebrated with her parents. We went to eat, got there early, right as they opened, and before hardly anyone showed up. By the time we were done eating, the restaurant was full, and there were people inside and outside the restaurant waiting for a table.
We planned the timing and we do this every year. We've learned how to adjust our schedules to try to avoid the crowds and chaos that comes with them. It's sad, actually, that we have to adjust our schedules because going anywhere and doing anything during a normal hour is just too daunting with lots of people, who are often rude, or careless, or clueless always around you.
I realize that resenting the ever presence of people, and caring way too much if they're where I happen to be nearly every single minute of every day, is not very 'Stoic'. I've got a lot to learn in that area, and I'm trying.
But something like that won't happen overnight. I think that's why I'm drawn to writing and wanting to do it to make a living. I can totally do it working from home, avoiding traffic and all the depressing rituals of schlepping my ass into an office, only to have to navigate the various pitfalls of human interaction throughout the day, while still trying to get something productive done.
When I'm writing, it's just me, the keyboard, and the screen. The three of us totally get along, and there's no having to pretend to be interested in someone's weekend, or acting apologetic for not doing something I didn't want to do in the first place.
Nope. With me, my keyboard and my screen, there's just truth. It's there, and it's real, and it's honest. If it's to change, it's because I changed it, whether by typing something else instead, or opening my browser to a different page.
It's simpler, quieter, and more manageable for me. I do struggle with being out in public, and it's been a rough road having to manage this as one of the side-effects of being in combat. But, writing keeps me grounded, keeps me calm, less angry at what I can't control (the hordes of people everywhere), and more grateful for what I can (my words, even if not my thoughts).
So, our plan worked, we got in and got seated right away, enjoyed our meal, and left. My wife asked me to say the prayer before we ate, so I obliged. I spoke my heart, and the women were driven to tears.
They joked I should give the prayer all the time, but I didn't find it funny or appealing. Maybe they weren't joking and I just hope they were. Either way, it doesn't matter.
I got my nap in today from being so full, but I would have napped no matter what, because I really like taking them.
When I woke up, my wife was crashed out on the couch, still enjoying hers. Perfect chance for me to sneak upstairs and write this out.
My mom is no longer with us, neither is my step-mom, both of whom I admired very much. I knew my mom my entire life until she passed, with some gaps in our lives when we'd be estranged. She'll always be my mom though, she with her imperfections, and me, as part of her flesh and blood, with plenty of mine.
Not sure which ones overlap, and which ones we could each call our own, but she defined the word 'Mom' for me, and because of her I knew what it was like to be loved.
My step-mom I was only able to know for a few years. But, in those few years, I admired her and thought she was the best thing to happen to my dad. He hates to be alone, and he really never is. He always ends up with a companion at his side, he's got that way about him.
She was good to him and good for him, and he knew it. Both these women went way before they should have, too soon and too young for all they still had left to give us all.
So, earlier I got to celebrate my mother-in-law for bringing my wife into the world, while she's still with us, and we all hope for a very long time to come.
For my mom and stepmom, it's just me, my keyboard, and my screen, giving them gratitude and love with my rememberance and words in type and in quiet solitude. It's truly the best way I know how: Happy Mother's Day