Two weeks since I posted. Stuff has happened.
I have procured summer employment, in the form of painting and other associated foibles, working for this guy and with this guy. The first week went reasonably well, though I’ll admit to feeling overmatched at times. I’m not built for physical labour. Well, not yet, anyway. But I’ve learned a lot about how much work goes into a good paint job, among various other things.
Our first job involved a lot of ladder work, painting at heights above ground. I don’t think there was a night last week where my arms and back weren’t sore. I think our next job (that reminds me, I need to call THE BOSSMAN and find out where it is) will be somewhat less strenuous.
And now, a holiday specific paragraph or two (since she’ll most definitely be reading, even in Ontario as she is right now- the rest of you can skip it).
I love my mom. I remember the countless scraped knees and elbows, the frantic, childlish late night questions about fires and nightmares and life and the future. I remember rolled eyes and private amusement as Dennis and I and Dad bantered and joked. I remember the morals and values and faith that she holds in the highest esteem, and passed onto us. I remember the smile, the easy laugh that was there for anyone, and the love that followed close behind. And as I passed into adulthood, and grappled with my purpose in life, with my own demons, how her support and love never wavered, even as I struggled to keep my head above the water. And no matter what I’ve done, that she loves me. I don’t often get around to saying how much I appreciate that- how much I appreciate all of it. What’s she done, and continues to do.
Happy Mother’s Day, Mom. I love you.