Life Memories

lifememories

 

Life Memories

Sitting here thinking

Listening to various songs

Visions flash before me

Eyes

A smile

There is a vague scent in the air

Laughter can be heard off in the distance

Is it real or in my mind?

Memories continue

Some good

Some bad

Time drifts away

I think on those memories

Some I wish I didn’t have

Others I wish I could live again

They are all part of who I am

Memories are what happen while life is lived.

Cherish them, all of them.

They made me who I am

And I am indestructible.

© Dellajes Anilom 2017

Embarrassing Moments 2

Not too long ago, I added a post of embarrassing moments. In that post I mentioned ‘cow dung’.  Yes, this is the post about said dung.

Back in the day, when night life for me was cruising (ha, I’ve not cruised in YEARS) down main street with the latest songs blaring out the rolled down windows. It was a Friday and Saturday night ritual. Once the drag was dead, we would convoy over to ‘The Oaks’.

Ah, the Oaks. (Yes, there are a few stories there too. One day… One day.)

Once we were gathered, we would all get out and shoot the breeze and of course, being teenagers there was some beer. I think back on that now and wonder how I ever survived those crazy times. On this particular night, everyone was pairing off. This was going to be a problem because at the time, I was seeing someone who lived out of town. Still, there was a one guy, isn’t there always, who thought I would pair off with him.

As a young lady raised to respect myself and any guy I was seeing, and I was not about to disrespect myself or my beau. The guy (let’s call him Eggroll – because that sounds funny and I don’t want to keep referring to him as ‘The Guy’) said he understood. Funny thing though, it wasn’t long after that, he suggested we all go skinny dipping. Understood my left foot!

There we all go hopping into our rides and following him and his gang to the pond. We get there and everyone takes off, everyone but me that is. I was not about to go skinny dipping with Eggroll! Yes I respected myself, but I had been drinking, which didn’t leave me with great decision making skills. Plus, he was a very handsome fellow. Had I not been with someone, I would have torn him up!! I kid you not.

Eggroll went in for a bit, but after a few minutes got out, got dressed, and went to visit with me. He said he respected my decision and thought it was kind of cool. Taking my hand, he also said that there weren’t a lot of girls who told him no, and that just made him like me more.

Oops.

Did he just think I was challenging him? I got sober and I got sober quick! We (and when I say we I mean ‘He’) decided to go out to his ranch to watch movies and chill the night away. Eggroll decided he wanted us to ride together so he told my ride I was riding with him. Imagine my surprise when my ride leaves and I’ve no clue what’s going on. I should have been scared, but back in those days, I was fearless. Stupid I know.

Hopping into his truck (it’s Texas, if you are any kind of country boy, you drive a truck), I am happy to see we won’t be riding alone. He turns on the radio and ‘When She Cries’ by Restless Heart is playing. It was one of my favorite songs and I started to hum along. He heard and started to sing it. His voice sucked. Then he turns and looks and me and winks, and starts to sing in a clear voice. I smile and look out my window.

When we get to where we are going, for some reason I am volunteered to open the gate. Because, it’s a ranch, of course there is a closed gate. I remember looking at him and thinking, ‘you don’t seriously want me to open it?’, but he did.

It was dark, but there was light from the headlights of the truck. I walked to the gate and opened it like a pro, because as a country girl, I was. Once I had the gate opened, I waited for him to drive through then closed the gate behind. Closing the gate was a little tricky, there wasn’t much light without the headlights. It was taking a long because I couldn’t find the hole. There went my pro status.

I had just got it done when Eggroll gets off his truck and walks over to me to check on me. Turning from the gate, I hadn’t heard him get off the truck so when I turned around and saw a dark shadow between me and the truck, I got scared. I tried to turn around slipped and fell on the ground.

Lucky for me it wasn’t too hard. (One guess why.) Eggroll was on me in a second making sure I was okay, but I still didn’t know it was him so I was fighting him off. His voice finally came through my fear and I stopped. He helped me up and as I got up I felt wet.

Right in the middle of my back, on my favorite t-shirt, was a huge spot where I fell on cow dung! Yup, it smelled great and felt warm. He was a kind about it and said I could use his shirt, but I think it was more so I didn’t get any on his truck’s seat.

When we pulled up to the house, I went straight for the bathroom. He offered me a clean t-shirt and a towel if I wanted to shower. I did not turn that down. By the time I came out of the shower, everyone was in a room and paired off for the night. I was stuck with Eggroll. In his room. With his bed.

He turned out to be a perfect gentleman. Not once did he try anything. Instead we talked about life, what he wanted to do with his. He was five years older me and still working on finding his way. We fell asleep at some point, because the next thing I know it is dawn. I thought there would be some awkwardness in the morning, but there wasn’t. It was just like the night before, for us at least.

It was interesting to see the now sober paired off couples react to each other in the morning. It was also interesting that on the way him, Eggroll reached out for my hand. We held hands as he drove. It was a special moment between him and I. One that I will treasure till this day and remember fondly as the night I met a great person and ruined my favorite shirt. A shirt I left at his house by the way. I didn’t want a smelling cow dung shirt.

~ Smelling Fresh These Days ~ DA`

Children

This evening I was sitting outside watching my children play catch. I couldn’t help but laugh as my son, who is eight years old, try and catch the baseballs my daughter, 11 years old, would toss his way. She can catch a ball, but my son is still struggling.

It warms my heart to see him smiling when he catches a ball. It’s as if he conquered something enormous, which in his case – it is. When we are young, it is the small things that make us happy.

As an adult, I try to remember to smile about the small things.

Bubbles

Smiles

Memories

I have been truly blessed with my two children. While having them was no easy walk in the park, raising them has been quite a trip.

When I had my daughter, I had to have an emergency C-section. I was fortunate enough to not have to stress over the operation ahead of time, which I am sure I would have should it have been a scheduled procedure. After she was born, she was taken to cleanup. My parents were there watching from an observation window when suddenly the curtains were closed on them. The curtains were closed because she had meconium. Of course, I didn’t find any of this out till later.

I came out of surgery and was placed in my room. The nurses brought in this tiny dark haired angel. I started crying. I couldn’t believe this was my little girl. I only had here for a few minutes because the nurses wanted me to rest. Later, the doctor would come in and say I wouldn’t be able to be near my daughter for at least 24 hours, because of my raging fever. That was torture.

I would walk down the hall to the nursery and watch my husband (ex-husband now) sit in a rocking chair and feed our (now she is simply MY) daughter. The doctor had walked in and saw me pitifully looking through the window and took pity on me. It was not long after, he informed the nurses I could see my child if I had been fever free for at least two hours.

She was so tiny! I couldn’t get over how small she was. We had taken her a set of clothes to come home in, but they were too large for her. She needed preemie clothes. Her first outfit was a yellow one with a pink ballerina on it. She was beautiful. She still is.

One of the worse experiences of my life came after we got home from the hospital. I was sent home with instructions to return if there was any leakage from the incision, if not I was to see my regular doctor (which did not perform the surgery because supposedly he was not in town) in ten days. I went back to the emergency room three times before my doctor’s appointment because of leakage and each time I was sent home.

Ten days after the surgery, I was in the doctor’s office with my newborn daughter, my mother, and my two year old niece. I was scheduled to have my staples out. Finally! I would not be seeing the doctor today, because the nurse always took out the staples.

After sitting on the table, my mother and I mentioned to the nurse how I been taken to the emergency several times for leakage. She didn’t say anything, just nodded her head. Once she looked at the surgery, she didn’t touch it. She simply said she had to get the doctor. Several minutes passed by while my mother and I just talked about what could be going on. I was getting nervous.

Dr. P walks in and asked how I am and makes mild small talk. While he is doing this, he is gathering items to start taking out the staples. First he got a long ‘Q-tip’ to clean the incision, upon starting the tip of the Q-tip went right through the incision and it burst open. I felt a gush of fluid spill out and down the sides of my body.

I screamed.

My niece screamed.

My newborn baby cried.

This was more shock of what happened than painful. I had yet to experience true pain. That was coming up next. Turned out, I had an infection, E. coli to be exact.

Yup, I had that. So, what does one do when they have an infection in an open incision? Well, I will tell you.

First, they have to clean it. They do this by scrubbing the infected area. THIS is what pain is. I screamed again, this time the duration of the cleaning. My niece was crying and screaming trying to open the door to get out. My daughter was crying too, there in her baby carrier. After the cleaning, came the packing. I was packed with gauzes and left open to heal from the inside out.

This happened in the morning. After the shock wore off, I as informed it would need to be done that evening as well. This would need to be done twice a day until the incision closed. Again, I cried. Remembering the pain from the first time, and knowing I would have to experience it again and again. I was scared. Scared of the pain I felt, and of the pain I was soon to feel again.

Pain is something I remember clearly from my pregnancy with my daughter. I was in pain all through it and afterwards with the infection. I survived it, obviously, but the emotional and physical scars remained.

Fast forward two years, when my husband and I planned my next pregnancy. Yes, planned. To the much disappoint of my parents. They were scared of what had happened. All I knew, was I wanted a boy.

As with all things, there are obstacles. I will go into those of my son, in another post.

-DA

Memories…

I’ve posted before how a song will take you back to a place and time in one’s life, but what about a smell. Or a building. Or just one of those random pop-ups.

I don’t mind getting a good memory. Who wouldn’t right? But what about those memories that remind us of what horrible things we’ve done? Yup, I just had one. Ugh

It started out nice. Remembering the first time I met him. Then it stems from there – how I ended it. How I went out with his brother. (Yes, I did that. Not my proudest moment. The only excuse I have – I was young and stupid.)

I have those feelings one gets from remembering those idiotic days; things one does when they think the world revolves around them. Churning in the stomach. Light-headedness. Shame. Misery. The norm.

Then I tell myself, I’m not that person anymore. I’m better than I was then. There is no point making myself miserable over something I cannot change. Life goes on and I can apologize to them now (as I have done with someone before, but that’s an entirely different blog post) for my past transgressions, but that’s all I can do.

In the end, God will judge me. I don’t judge for that reason. Who am I? Just me.

-DA

Songs

I’m sitting here, working on some things, when an old song plays.

Bonnie Raitt’s “I Can’t Make You Love Me”

Talking about a blast from the past. (By the way, I loved the movie with Brendan Fraser.)

There are a lot of songs that take me back. Much like the song by Trisha Yearwood “The Song Remembers When”

It is one of my favorite songs… And one of the songs I hate. It takes me right back to that time and place. To that person I miss so very much, and I know hasn’t given me a second thought.

Sigh

Okay, enough of the ten second pity party.

I move on to other songs. Songs like Def Leppard’s “Pour Some Sugar On Me”

Till next time I feel inspired ~ D