The Wilkey's and the Avery's

Sunny Sunday morning passed me by wearing sneakers leaving no time to waste as afternoon smiles but takes no breaks.  Sitting on my brown sofa, I reach to fine tune the digital clock radio, set to Classic Country KCWM (1460 AM) Hondo, Texas, USA., I pause to ponder the options-Pause button is for Snoozing, Rewind for movies and turning back clock numbers will only make me late for work. sigh Some things never change or so they say.  'They say'  so many things we want to hold onto but what I have observed is that every single thing changes.

Me, my younger sister and even younger brother were blessed to grow up in a small community, on a narrow street,  where no two wood frame houses were the same. Front lawns were a mix of carpet grass, sticker burrs and patches of deep green clover, hours occupied lazy afternoons looking for that four leaf to bring good luck.
From 1961 to this day the Wilkey's and the Avery's have been neighbors. Growing up we were so close, more like extra siblings or cousins than just neighbors. Same thing with our parents who sometimes seemed kinda interchangeable.  Us kids were fussed at for mischief no matter what our last name and parents backed each other up.  That particular sense of security and stability provided a strong foundation, kept us grounded.  

The eight Wilkey children grew up and mulitiplied as did us three Avery's.
Sadly Mr. Wilkey went to Jesus many years ago.

Mr. Avery, my Dad, went home 3 years ago. That left our Mothers, still neighbors, the Wilkey's and the Avery's connected by a worn foot path from our concrete front porch to their garage door-which was always open.
Sometime in the early twilight God called Mrs. Wilkey home, she passed from this world to the next surrounded by her loving family who cherished her so.  She had a strong Catholic faith that sometimes did move mountains, and I can only imagine the jewels in her crown.
'They say' our days are numbered.  'They say' only the rocks live forever.
 I hear this in my head but could someone please explain it to my heart?
I miss you already Mrs. Wilkey.  I am thinking we are probably already neighbors again in Heaven.

The Wilkey's and the Avery's.  kisses

Jetset Sunday

Sunday, January 4th, 2015, the very first Sunday starting the very first new week of a brand new year is here for just a few more hours.  

2015 for some reason feels a bit surreal for lack of a better word.  I keep thinking back to Flour Bluff ISD, Mrs. Trudy Morris lecturing our 6th grade class,   "You kids will probably see the turn of the next century", and adding up with all the fingers on both hands the age I would be in the year 2000.  I sat in awe, staring out the window of our classroom, overwhelmed as my imagination flashed vivid pictures, sorta like 'The Jetsons'  and would it be possible for me to even live that  long. 

Now here it is well into that new century.  I am 53 and still wondering what old will feel like while a part of me realizes my grandchildren probably think Nana is kinda old and a little crazy. 

I wonder if friends my age look around like I do and think "My parents seemed so much older, at this age, than I am now."? 

My Mom says, "Steffie, your mind does not grow old. Just your body."  

I guess that sums it up.  

Life is full of change.  

My perception of stability and how I should feel at this age has evolved greatly in the last few years. What I have figured out is there are just some things I will never figure out. 

I make it a point to tell my grandchildren how life was in the 1970's. Clothing, color schemes and the almost unbelievable differance in social norms, gender gap, and strict definition of family quite different from today.  Who knew? 

Kinda like both my Grandmothers and the stories they shared from the century before- and so it goes. 

The Jetson's are still furturistic and I still do not feel old.  

kisses

As It Should Be

Me in foster care Nueces County Texas . I don't know who they were

Good Sunday morning. The very last Sunday of 2014 will be dawning at 7:29 in my part of Texas. Cold and wet outside I am thankful to be cozy, warm inside. Dog on his blanket chasing rabbits in his sleep. Me sitting on my brown sofa contemplating my life so far.

I will probably never know where exactly my life began,  my name or any fun facts about my ancestors.  My parents adopted me from the state. I was in a foster home as my birth Mother was admitted into Memorial Hospital in Corpus Christi, or so I have been told, and then left the hospital AMA(against medical advice) never to be heard from again.  I make up all sorts of scenarios about what might have happened to her. I so hope she has had a good life.

My earliest memories of my (adoptive) Mom are, 'oh there is that nice lady' .  I remember so clearly when she entered a room that gnawing anxious confusion fell away and I felt safe and secure.  I guess maybe because she was my Mom! 

Picture from my foster home but Mom is unsure if this is me 

My parents adopted my little sister a year after and 2 years after that my Mom got pregnant with my little brother. Our bedtime story was a book about how a little boy's parents adopted his little sister.

My parents would look at Robin and I and say "This is how we got you girls. We picked you out"  My parents are/were such good honest people.  

Fast forward 50 years or so... My 3 children are grown with their own homes and families. I am so proud of all of them.  

I have worked very hard to have my own home and other than a few rough patches I feel all in all not to shabby for a kid abandoned not knowing her own name.  

I am grateful to  my birth Mom for giving me life and while she could not care for me she left me in a safe place. Thank you so much forever and ever. 

I am grateful for foster parents making space for me in their home and in their life .  Thank  you so much forever and ever.  

Thank you Mom and Dad.  My life could have been so different or maybe not. Maybe it is all as it should be...so it goes. kisses