Change. I've learned to embrace it, ride it out til the end. Sometimes I'm kicking and screaming, other times weeping with my eyes clinched tight. Once in awhile I ride like a dog in a car, head out the window snorting what life has to offer. Mother to young adult children, a marriage of thirty years, and a desert to mountain to valley waltz with God have shaped me into someone I never imagined I'd be. Life is short and I want to live it. Tears, sighs, laughter and change. Every morsel granted to me. Scrambled, shaken or stirred.
Monday, July 13, 2009
Heard (and seen) around town.
Warning: Don't read too close to dinner. Not for the squeamish.
Scene: Mall parking lot.
Muffled and then increasingly loud voices. Unknown direction. Heads are not visible.
"I'm going to lose it." Spoken fully in Gaggle. The gurgly and intense 'I'm going to hurl voice' one uses when attempting to keep the contents of the stomach intact. "Cough. Cough. Cough." Wet with promise.
"You need to wipe his face off." Low guttural groan.
"I can't unless you hold his hands." Female voice, more controlled.
Intense gagging. Loud coughing.
"You need to hold his hands. Hold his hands."
Followed by, "I'm going to be sick!" "I'm going to lose it!" Extreme gagging.
We come upon the scene, two aisles over, wherein a female stands working away with a canister of wet wipes. A car seat is perched on the trunk of the car. A child, standing in only a diaper, is barely held onto by bending man. More gagging.
As we drive away man holds child and ralphs projectilely next to the vehicle.
Oh, the glamor of parenting.