Yesterday was a pretty wretched day. I mean, I've certainly had worse. Nobody died, nobody got diagnosed with cancer, nobody wandered off and got lost in the haze of Alzheimer's, nobody ended a long friendship, no ambulances were called. See? There's been worse. But hurtful things were said to me that, well, hurt. And sometimes you realize that there's no core of friendship to cushion the hurt and that's sad. When you slowly realize that someone just doesn't particularly like you, it's unsettling. God knows I don't think everybody likes me. Believe me, that has been proven PALENTY of times, in a number of ways (see I've-had-worse-days above). I guess it's good to be kicked around a bit now and then….keeps things in perspective, but it wasn't the best day for it. Bad timing.
Then, of course, I was saddened, although not surprised, at the vote on the Burnham Mansion. So we will destroy a nationally significant structure for a parking lot…for 20 cars I'm told, although I'm not sure if that's exact. And the belief that one old building is the same as another old building by reasonably intelligent, educated people kind of blows my mind.
I got home from work, cried, drank a glass of wine, and then headed off to the City Council meeting. I did my little speech although I was as shaky as hell. Sometimes I'm ok at public speaking and sometimes I'm not. About three hours later, they voted and we went home. I had another glass of wine and ate some Japanese rice crackers for dinner.
Earlier, a friend had said, while encouraging me to go to the meeting, "Your father would be proud of you." Yeah, she knows how to get to me. And that did make me smile and think of him. I thought about when we would go visit my folks when the boys were little. We would come in the front door and my parents were usually in the back of the house sitting in the kitchen. Owen would race through the house bellowing hello to them, and run and hug them. Leo would hang back shyly and smile at them. When it was time to go, Owen would run to the car, yelling goodbye over his shoulder. Leo would go to each of them and give them sweet, careful hugs and tell them he loved them. So different, those two boys. Last night, when I got home from work, Owen galloped down the stairs and wished me luck and read my statement and told me he loved me. Later when we left, both boys yelled downstairs, "Good luck Mom." When Ernie and I got home somewhere after 10:00 Owen was already asleep, but Leo came down and sat with me, read my statement, told me it was well-written, told me he was sorry, and hugged me, and then he just sat with me.
Those two boys. So different and yet so alike in their love and goodness.
Perspective.
Onward.