A Good Home, Family Moments

Pride or The Lack Thereof

My good man doesn’t understand why I like my sister’s old clothes. She shows up with a bagful of clothing and I rummage through them like a kid with a treasure box.

The look on his face says: “At your age, you really should not be wearing your sister’s hand-me-downs.” 

I could tell him they’re not just any old cast-offs: they’re my sister’s cast-offs! But he didn’t have older brothers; he doesn’t understand.

Blog Photo - Cynthia coat - bag of clothes

I could say that wearing each other’s clothes goes back decades, to stories like this one: for her first big job interview, my sister wore the light-blue suit that I had just bought with all my savings. She got the job and I shared in her pride. We never forgot that moment or that suit.

I could remind him that my sister did me a favour by accepting my collection of shoes.

Many had been bought on sale in Italy when I worked there.  But some were bought closer to home, after the car accident.  They were a commitment: I would heal, would wear “nice shoes” again.

It never happened, of course, and a few years ago, I finally surrendered. But I knew those shoes had to go to a special person. Someone who wore the same size and would understand.

My sister understood. My sisters always understand more than I tell them.

Blog Photo - Cynthia coat full

They’d also understand why I bought this strange-looking coat, another thing my good man can’t fathom.

“Why are the sleeves different?” he said when I first wore it some years ago.

Blog Photo - Cynthia coatsleeve 1

Blog Photo - Cynthia coatsleeve 2

“And those buttons!”

I said each purchase contributes to funds for families in the Himalayas. That didn’t change his mind.

Blog Photo - Cynthia coat closeup

It’s been over-worn. When the zipper got stuck last week and I had to step into the coat, cane and all, in the middle of a restaurant, he wasn’t there. And a good thing, that: he’d have turned white with astonishment — a difficult thing for a black man to do.

Blog Photo - Cynthia coat zipper

“You did what?” he asked, when I mentioned it. 

“It was a struggle! And when I looked up, giggling, other patrons burst into laughter,” I blithely continued.

“And that didn’t bother you?”

“Of course not!”

You should have seen the look on his face. 

The issue, you see, is personal pride and dignity.  It seems I’ve lost all of mine.

~~

Dedicated to my sisters, and to my husband, who love me, no matter what.

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A Good Home, Garden Humour, Spring, Weather

Spring?

The biggest, fattest snowflakes (snow dollops?) of the season arrived yesterday, like cold water in the face of Spring.

I’m no poet, but these verses are meant to make you smile:

https://cynthiasreyes.com/2015/03/13/a-winters-tail/

https://cynthiasreyes.com/2014/03/29/our-lady-spring/

A Good Home, Family Moments, Mishaps

The Ungodly Godmother

Maybe — now that I’m going to become a children’s book author — my blog should become more respectable?  I hope not. But just in case, I’m sharing this post before Myrtle is published!

~~

The “Ungodly Godmother” of one of our children drove hours on her first day off work to visit me after my recent mishap.

Time spent with her is a gift. She’s caring, smart, and makes us laugh. Updates about her life, her town, mutual friends — are all told in witty, ironic and ‘salty’ language.

It’s partly why our children have always loved her. The laughter. And because she was that rare adult who didn’t clean up her language when they entered a room. Thus the name she gave herself: “The Ungodly Godmother”.

Blog Photo - Cast with messages by Hamlin Grange

Before she left our home this time, she autographed my cast.

Not that I could see it clearly.  Too far down the cast, near my heel.

~~

We hadn’t been to church since I fell and injured myself.  I’ve missed the quiet Sunday morning rituals, the readings from the old Book of Common Prayer, in our tiny historic chapel.

Blog Photo - St Thomas Church Altar

So my husband and I were grateful when the priest called, offering to bring us communion.  

Father Tim spread a handkerchief-size white tablecloth on our coffee table, then placed two tiny gold jars on it, his prayer book to one side. He read a prayer for the sick, and Hamlin and I followed along as he read. He opened one gold jar and gave us the wafer (the bread), then opened the other and anointed our foreheads with consecrated oil.

The sacred ceremony complete, we got to talking about light and pleasant topics. You know:  politics, journalism, original sin.

Before he left, I asked him to sign my cast.

~~

“There’s room next to Liona’s.” My husband pointed to the space next to Liona Boyd’s signature and drawing of her guitar. 

Blog photo - Cast with Liona Guitar

She’s a famous classical guitarist and Father Tim, a fan of her music, happily placed his signature near hers, complete with the sign of the cross.

Blog Photo - Cast message from Fr. Tim

Days later, I saw my husband’s photos of the cast and made a surprising discovery.

To the right of Father Tim’s signature was Liona’s — yes. But to the near-left was the message from our dear friend, The Ungodly Godmother.

Blog Photo - Cast message from the UG

It said, simply: “Get this effing thing off!”

“Do you think he noticed?” I anxiously asked my husband.

“Don’t worry”, he said. “He’s a priest. He’s seen a lot worse.”

The Ungodly Godmother had struck again.

 

 

 

 

 

A Good Home, A Plausible Story, An Honest House by Cynthia Reyes, Votes for Best Story

Winner Announced!

The votes are in and there’s a winner!

But first I must say that you voters are a most unruly lot. You were asked to pick the best fictional story explaining my broken ankle. So what did many of you do?

Blog Photo - Cynthia cast being put on

You chose several. Yegads! In those cases, I chose the first one you mentioned.

Then some of you voted, but also gave your heart’s choice. What kind of voting is that, I ask you? (Hilarious, actually.)

So thanks for the laughs, and the votes. 

The runners-up are:

1:  #24-b by American Illustrator Jeanne Balsam who should be asked to illustrate the scenes she described. Her other blog is Still a Dreamer, btw.

2: #30 by Canadian Playwright Rex Deverell whose submission could indeed make a good play. 

3: #25 by MT McGuire. The votes were spread over her several submissions, so she gets honourable mention.

And the winner is:

The doctor called to tell me the pregnancy test was positive and I just passed clean out!By American Writer-Physician Victo Dolore, who got a whopping 7 votes. That’s impressive because there were 30 entries, and every one of them had their admirers. 

**Victo**, I will contact you directly for your mailing address and your choice of either A Good Home or An Honest House.

Thanks to everyone for entering and voting. You made me laugh: great medicine in a painful time.  

p.s. I got the news last week: NO surgery required. The bones are healing. Hooray!