Where Is This One Going?

Sunday, the 4th, I let the boys swim and decided to try writing my Thank You notes once again. I thought that poolside, fresh air, sunshine would be a happy place to write such sad thank you notes. 

I reread them all. I held back my tears as the boys splashed and laughed. I even giggled at the fact that I was left with the ultimate chore from my Mom. She insisted on thank you notes. They’re important, they’re polite, they’re part of the gift. 

 

This was no gift though. Not in the traditional gift sense. True, blessings, perhaps, but not gift for which you would normally write a thank you note. 

 

Blessings. Blessings of flowers, and food, and books, and photos, and dish gardens, and support, and hugs, and time spent thinking of us. 

 

One card I specifically set off to the side, to handle later. I didn’t know why. 

It was the card from my Uncle and his family. I stared at it and considered texting the only member of that family that I regularly speak to. 

He and I have long texting conversations. They started years ago and have been a source of support to reach out to over the years. On both sides of the phone. 

I decided I would text him later/soon/tomorrow. I would check in with him. We had talked on my birthday. We had talked when I lost my Mom. He was so sad, for me, for my brother, for my kids, for himself. He always loved my Mom. 

His love and xoxo's were in that card.