This is just between us, between us blogging buddies, not for you to go blabbing to the whole world, okay?
I’m getting older every single day. It’s true.
Sorry not sorry, but so are you.
Soon, I will be forty-four.
Sassy’s always sayin she’s halfway to thirty. I’m always like, “I’m halfway to eighty-eight.”
I got my first birthday present today. From my mommy. I dunno what she’s halfway to without a piece of paper and a pen. I forget how old she is, but we’re both so old I’d need to borrow or carry, and I can’t math that shit in my head.
My mother just mumbled, Jeez, Kid.
Anyway, my mother sent me a sparkly. She loves me to the moon and back. Heart-heart. Gush-gush.
She also sent me holiday decorations. Boxes of home. Figuratively. Like the home we can never go back to? The kind of home we can smile at when we remove sweet memories from the box every year?
I am all about that, in case you didn’t know.
I’m a sucker for sentiment. Much of what I own has been gifted to or passed on to me. I love this about my world. I love how many people are still with me in spirit because of things I enjoy every day. Or maybe they’re still here, but they’re far and those things make them seem closer. It feels Intimate, Personal, Intentional.
As we head toward the season of giving, consider giving something of your own to someone who would adore it and think of you every time they see it or use it. This doesn’t work for every giver or every recipient and it may not work best during the holidays. But when done well, it’s a gift of immeasurable value. A real token of affection, a thought that truly counts.