Look at that little peach-fuzz head. With Grady’s second birthday quickly approaching I’m getting all sentimental. She’s such a wonderful girl and thrilled and grateful to spend every day with her.
Day 7 – A picture of your most treasured item
This was a tough one. I actually try pretty hard to surround myself only with treasured items, so I considered just taking pictures of my entire apartment. But instead, here are three things that I have a strong emotional attachment to:
The ring: My mom gave me this ring when I was a kid. We don’t have any Native American blood on that side of the family (well, my stepdad does, but I guess that doesn’t count), but almost every summer we’d head south to Teasdale, Utah, where some of my stepdad’s family lives. It’s a red-rock cactus-and-sage turquoise-gift-shop area, and this ring is a really treasured reminder of that part of my childhood.
The necklace: Also given to me by family when I was young. In this case, my paternal grandfather once gave me a little purple box with this necklace and two old gold-plated women’s watches in it, telling me (I assume jokingly) that they were mine and to never let anyone take them from me. I haven’t any idea about the context behind his words, but this necklace reminds me of him. It seemed like he was entrusting me with something incredibly serious.
The shirt: This is more or less the only thing I have left from a loved one who died more than two years ago. I still wear it all the time, and feel, well, exactly like myself when I have it on. Don’t know how to phrase it better.
The point is: It’s not important that you know how much I hate that word, because you’ll probably become a “nevermind” yourself.
But I do hate it. It means I did something wrong. It means I got my hopes up. It’s a step backwards – which on the outside is as simple as it sounds, but really requires sleepless nights and long stares and stupid grasps at physical change (like ugly haircuts or accidental scars or bruises). Each “nevermind” is a goodbye, and I hate goodbyes. With each “nevermind” an entire life is gone; usually that can be taken figuratively, occasionally it is literal. I still can’t adjust to the big “nevermind,” even now 511 days (12,264 hours) later. This one makes my latest batch of “neverminds” seem slight, I guess. I don’t know. The difference doesn’t make me feel more powerful than any of it.
Thinking of the older people I know, it seems like they have escaped the “nevermind.” They don’t seem agitated by its torment. Do they stop hoping? Or do they just get better at hope, gaining a sense of what hopes will turn traitor? Or are they just better at hiding it?
- Grady is beautiful. Obviously, she has given me the luxury of being able to toss-and-turn myself into a blog post at 5 a.m. I never thought of sadness as a luxury until I became a mom.
- I transplanted some beautiful local blackberry plants today. Without me they would have died in a green plastic bucket, and now they’ll become the energy that eventually helps Grady run around the backyard and grow hair.