Endings Can Be Good

Endings are often thought of as not the favorite.  But I do believe endings can be good.  They can wrap up and tie up and twirl a bow up and make you feel all ready to bounce on your way to the next adventure or the next big thing or even the next little thing.

A smidge over one week ago, my parents and I had a good ending.  A real good ending.  After showering and not putting on makeup or doing our hair, we grilled and enjoyed eating on the patio.  When I speak of the no makeup or hair fixing, I speak of Momma Debi and I.  Dad-o does not usually wear makeup nor do his hair up.  He does, however, man a grill quite well.

With a cocktail companion being his side-kick of course. 

Parents, I'm pretty sure you are living the dream.  For real.  Bonus points to you for both working your tails off to get to this point.  And thank you for letting me share in the dream for long weekends.  Here's hoping I have future bonus points accumulating for always returning to work on Monday mornings.  

Here's where I tell you I didn't help.  Not one bit.  I just stood there with my wet hair holding a plate.  Because I'm like that.

Hello to a perfectly good ending.

I can't really put into words what it was like to sit there in the cool night air with a glass of wine visiting with my parents on their patio in Arizona.  It was a surreal moment.  One I never would have foreshadowed.  Especially in those years when I received a previously owned (that's a nice way to say used) play kitchen set from Santa and my wardrobe consisted of garage sale clothes and it never rained and the crops shriveled and the ground cracked and every penny was pinched.  To this day, if I hear the word drought or someone mentions something about it starting to be dry, my stomach starts to twist.  It's an effect of growing up on a farm in the late 80s in western North Dakota.  So, this may sound weird, but I'm proud of my parents.  Usually that's reversed right?  Parents proud of daughter.  But I'm proud of them to the point it actually makes me tear up and get that chest squeeze feeling.  They worked through the tough times of farming and the struggles of Crohn's disease and the battle of cancer and they did all of it together.  It wasn't always easy and rarely glamorous, but they did it.  Simply put, they are living their dream and even more simply put, because I don't have the words to wrap around the thoughts sufficiently...I am proud of them.

I'm even proud of them when Dad-o falls asleep in the middle of one of my stories and Momma Debi tells me it's time to put the wine away and go to bed.

When I packed up my suitcase in the dark the next morning, I felt sufficiently wrapped up and rejuvenated.  Ready to bounce to the next thing.  I'm thinking that always catching the sunrise view at the airport helps make the transition back to the real world easier.

 

I was blessed to spend a long weekend with my parents.  I was blessed when Dad-o walked me all the way to the airport door just to make sure I was in alright and hugged me and gave me a kiss on the cheek with an "I love you" to send me on my way.  I was blessed to find this snack in my purse while sitting on the plane and I wanted to explain to the person sitting next to me, "I'm not taking a picture of this because it's an orange.  I'm taking a picture of this because it's a beautiful reminder of how much my mom loves me."  But I didn't.  I decided for once, that being in a quiet moment was satisfying. 

I stayed quiet the whole flight.  Content and quiet with my own thoughts. 

Until I walked off the plane and had to yell out in a southern accent to embarrass Sister Pister and her two friends.  Quiet time was over at that point.  Because they were more than a tad excited to be boarding the same plane I stepped off of to head down to Momma Debi and Dad-o for their week of fun.  My good ending was their beginning and I'm fairly certain there was zero quiet time involved in their vacation.