Anchor-age, Not the Alaskan Kind

Grounders

Sooo, did I hear you type the word, cookie?

No matter what kind of curve ball life throws, even those 359 degree ones, there are two things that demand focus in any way they can get it – cookies and bacon.

Okay yes, I’m kidding… it’s whatever requires you to be relevant.  In my case, those anchors just happen to be fairly typical – children and animals, not necessarily in that order… and thank you sweet, Geezus for typical anchors.

They see me at my best, and my worst – which they generally run away from – fast, usually to retain the emergency services of a stylist or a good martini mixer, but even so, they will love me again within minutes. If only that were true of the rest of the world…

They do see me cry and rail at times because I don’t often try to shield them from those moments because life is also an awful lot about ‘shite happens’.

My last few posts have reflected some recent hard knocks and I expect I will write in and around those events for a little while too.  Writing  is a critical component of healing for me, as much as talking things out with my son is needed to help his understandings.

We’ll go over what’s happening to whatever appropriate extent and then, what it’s going to take to  cope and keep moving. My Jack seems to understand that, so he pretty much behaves accordingly – he’ll lick my face, then throw a paw at it for priorities – which incidentally are the same as my son’s – cookies and bacon.

My son, on the other hand, seems to have grown some pretty thoughtful insight for his age, which he occasionally jolts me with. He reminds that a laugh is good medicine or that I am forgetting to see my own value, regardless of anyone else’s assessment, and that he’s willing to stand up for me to anyone. It’s those moments that remind me that no matter how hard I’ve been hit by the challenges of life,  underneath and overall, I have done some things right.

I’d like to think that I’ve mostly lived for the greater good.  I’d like to know that I didn’t live in my own head as much as, or more than, contributing meaningfully to community. I hope that no matter what happens, most will remember me for living, giving, and seeing the worthwhile.

At the end of the day, no matter what kind of day, I hope I will have earned the right to my own share of cookies and bacon.  And poutine. God, I really love that stuff, way too much.

RL

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About Blog Woman!!!

Once in a while I can rock a thought. I simply believe in what I stand up for. I'd most like people to know that surviving the trials of mountains and monsters is more than resilience - it’s a path to your destiny. On a mostly weekly basis I throw out a grab-bag of facts, ideas or creativity; like a box of chocolates wrapped in ribbons of occasional profanity.... In other words, it's my party I can fun if I want to. So, let's talk.
This entry was posted in Achievements, Coping, Grief, Life, Lighter Side and tagged , . Bookmark the permalink.

14 Responses to Anchor-age, Not the Alaskan Kind

  1. Lynn says:

    It sounds like your son has learned some pretty awesome values from his Momma. It is such a wonderful feeling to hear our children offer their support & insight when we are having a bad day. In doing so, they somehow lift our spirits like no one else can. As for our fur babies? They are in a league all on their own❤️

    Liked by 1 person

  2. One should never underestimate the power of bacon to heal life’s wounds (or at least staunch the bleeding by clogging those pesky veins and arteries). Poutine serves a similar purpose.

    As for licking your face, it’s a little kinky, but I am sure we could arrange something.

    Strength and love to you, my friend.

    Liked by 1 person

  3. Dan Antion says:

    Animals and children can really surprise us sometimes with how they can be in tune with our wavelength on any particular day. Good luck (add more bacon).

    Liked by 1 person

  4. diahannreyes says:

    You are lucky to have such special “anchors” in your life. Your words make me think back to my mid-twenties after my dog died. A chaotic phase followed after that and I always wonder if he had lived (he died very young) that time would have been different as the needing to care for and show up for him would have kept me anchored.

    Liked by 1 person

    • I have been having quite a few ‘deep thoughts’ about the whys and hows of life lately. I think I’m meant to at this time and oh yes, having my particular anchors does help keep perspective on a more even keel than when these things happened when I was younger.
      Have a great week, my friend.

      Liked by 1 person

  5. joannesisco says:

    The *people* (yes, I think of my cat as a person) who have the simplest expectatons of us, seem to be the kindest and gentlest with our needs and emotions.
    It is a wonderful feeling when we discover our children have profound empathy and a clear, untangled understanding of right and wrong. Those are days when I feel truly blessed by the universe.

    Liked by 1 person

  6. Hhhmmmnn, bacon. And yes, you’ve definitely earned a share of it. Your kid sounds brilliant. Xx

    Like

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