What You Said To Me

(in my kitchen; me, resting my elbows on the counter, you, sitting in the armchair enjoying the coffee I made for you)

Me – What does ‘tarpaulin’ mean?

You – I don’t know.  (pause) Want me to Google it?

Me – (with furrowed brow) No. I don’t want you to “Google” it. I want a person I know to tell me because they know the answer.

You – What difference does it make as long as you find out what “tarpaulin” means?

Me – Well, I don’t like what this implies!  People in general just don’t know regular stuff anymore!  They have to “Google” it. (the word “Google” said in a taunting voice)

You – (with mock patience) I don’t think the definition of “tarpaulin” is “regular stuff”.  (off topic – you really need to work on your sarcastic attitude.  It’s kinda rude.)

Me – Well, I think day was that a “regular” person would’ve known that!

You – Well, You don’t!

(silence and a stare from me – you cheeky bugger.)

Me – (with a smug smirk) Well, that just proves my point now doesn’t it!  I’m concerned for us all!

You – Listen.  I get it, and sorta sympathize, but there is so much more we do know now!  And it’s right at our fingertips on the web.  I’m guessing you’re busting on technology in general, right?

Me – (with a skeptical look on my face, eyes narrowed, said slowly) Maybe.  Not really.  More on our ignorant reliance on it for everyday stuff.

You – Like what?

Me – (arms flung into the air as I purposely move toward my dusty array of cookbooks) Recipes for one!  Grandma’s biscuits aren’t cherished anymore…gotta look up “biscuits” online!!  But let’s be real! People just buy (disgust oozing from my voice) CANNED!

You – (interrupting my rant – also rude.) Oh brother.

Me – (kindly ignoring your rudeness and continuing) And how to do stuff!!  Like … (fumbling slightly for words)…crafts and stuff!  We can’t just … make a door decoration with a grapevine wreath, a glue gun, and silk flowers from Michael’s anymore?  NOOoooo!!  That’s not good enough!  (warming to my subject, hands on hips) We gotta look on “Pin-trest” (said with even more disgust than “Google” and a slight shake of the hips).

You – (condescending silence and slowly moving your chin to rest on your hand)

Me – (with increased confidence and volume) And that, my friend, brings us back to “tarpaulin”!  WORDS!  People don’t use great vocabulary anymore!  Because the majority of what they read is 3 word sentence texts (with an eye roll) from their vocabulary stunted friends!!!

You – (hurriedly hiding your phone under your leg after checking it for texts during my important soliloquy)

Me – (continuing) Whatever happened to using a dictionary?  Dear Daniel Webster is probably rolling over in his grave!

You – But people do use Webster’s – they just do it online.

Me – (sighing, calming down, and moving to my well-worn copy of Webster’s)  Well, I don’t like it.  What’s so wrong with keeping a real, live, thick, heavy book on the bookshelf and pulling it out as needed?

 

You – (lost in thought and beginning to gaze out of the window) Ya’ know, lots of people don’t keep many books anymore.  There are virtual copies of almost everything online… (the end of the sentence getting softer as you slowly turn your head to regard me and realize your massive blunder)

Me – Oh.     Don’t. Get. Me. Started.

Leave the sinklight on for me

I was washing dishes after supper the other night and realized something.

My mother often finished cleaning the kitchen, after our evening meal, by the light above the sink. She would wipe off the counters and leave that light on for a while after her nightly chores were done, and before she went to bed, she would turn if off. While that light was on, everything was winding down. My brother and I got our baths, the table was cleaned off, Daddy was home watching tv (or snoring in the bed!).

The wet countertops shining by the light of that dim sinklight meant that things were as they should be.

So, what I realized is this: that the little 60watt bulb above the sink means alot to me. It says, "Someone is home that cares about cleaning the kitchen, getting things readied for the morrow". It reminds me of my sweet, safe childhood.  (I know how unusual and blessed that is)  That sinklight means to me what the front porch light means to other people - someone is thinking of me, and has prepared for my needs. It has become another representative of love to me.

I love that sinklight. And I love my mama - the sinklight user of my childhood.

Now that I'm the mama, I don't use our sinklight much, but I might try to a little more.

When my children are older, I hope they can remember little "sinklights" from their childhood - mundane, everyday things that have become important to them simply because it reminds them of how loved they are.