20 years

My mom died by suicide a couple of weeks before Google launched. The iMac came out the same month she died, and the first Harry Potter book was released that same year. That means my mother never Googled anything, she never saw a MacBook (couldn’t have dreamed of an iPad), and died not knowing who Voldemort was or if he won. 

It was 20 years ago today. I’d been 21 less than two months and Amy had been 19 less than a day. Our worlds stopped, and we grew up in a heartbeat. Nothing forces adulthood on a child like helping make decisions about caskets and burial locations. In 1998 no one I knew talked about suicide. So when people asked me how long she had cancer I generally stared awkwardly and said “she didn’t” before walking away. I never felt the need to lie about the way she passed, but I always felt uncomfortable when people didn’t seem to know what to do in front of me with the facts.

20 years later and we are all wiser and braver. We not only share her story but we also share her truth. We share that her depression hid from most everyone for years and that she was an incredible mother and friend to us.  We share that all the goodness in me comes from the upbringing I was gifted from her and dad. The light of her life is much more important than the darkness that proceeded her death. My memories of her are vivid enough to wash away any lingering darkness. 

Am I still sad I lost my mom before my life really started?  Desperately sad. Do I mourn all the amazing things she missed when her depression finally won out?  Absolutely.  Am I a better person today because of the strength and tenacity gained through that hell?  You betcha. She taught me to see the best in every person and in every moment. Today, 20 years later, I honor her by seeing the good. That’s probably the most important and amazing adulting I’ll ever do. 

One headlight

In the last few months I’ve met two very nice Keller police officers. You might think I met them through work or at a city event, but no... I’ve been pulled over twice for a headlight being out. You’d have thought I would have taken the time for the repair after the first “bad boy bad boy, whatcha gonna do” moment, but no...  In my head, getting the headlight repaired/replaced was a big deal. It was going to take hours and I just don’t have hours when the school year is about to start.

Yesterday I got the headlight fixed. 5 minutes and $21. Thanks Kwik Kar of Keller. Sometimes adulting isn’t even a fraction of the hassle I make it out to be.

Prime Time

I have learned some odd adulting skills over the last two decades. One that I believe is wildly interesting is delivery of groceries and other items  to my door from Prime Now. For a little over a year I’ve had everything from toothpaste to ground turkey and earrings to zucchini delivered to my front door in about two hours. It is incredible. The quality is good, the prices are generally competitive, and I’m way less likely to impulse buy as I don’t wonder aisles.

This adulting reached new levels of awesome a couple of weeks ago when I learned that I can get beer and wine delivered to my front door. Like a box of Pinot Grigio and a bottle of Malbec. I have to show the delivery person my license and sign for the delivery, but like unicorn-glitter-magic, it shows up!  This, my friends, is an adulting win!  Thanks Amazon Prime Now!

PS I checked the mail today. Bam!

Box Full

I've shared an adulting success, so I'm going to keep it real and share a big ol' failure.  I have a red brick mailbox right in front of my house.  It's not down the street or at the post office - it's in front of the house.  It's literally 28 steps from my front door.  I cannot seem to check it regularly enough to keep it from becoming so overstuffed that the poor postal worker has to put a nastygram in said mailbox to alert me that the contents of my mailbox is now housed in a plastic crate at the post office.  Much of it is junk mail and some of it is bulky packages, but 100% of it stems from my inability to walk 28 steps and get the darn mail at least once every 2-3 days.  This last time (July 27) the note proclaimed: "box full AGAIN."  Ugh.  I'm sorry mail-lady.  I'll try to do better.  Again.