I love memories, and photos that spark memories, and words
that spark memories and things that spark memories. And that is a nice way to
say that I am an obnoxious shutterbug, rabid journal keeper and zealous hoarder.
Last week I cleaned out an overstuffed bookshelf and found a
variety of journals from different years, each with a few pages written recording my weight or the foods that I had
eaten, followed by empty pages. Though
the dates varied wildly, the weights were all exactly the same and the
message identical: This time it will be
different. This time I will change my exercise and eating habits!
Why is change so hard?
Yesterday I had the privilege of hearing the United
Methodist District Supervisor for the Corridor District (which includes Durham)
speak at Resurrection UMC. The message was an invitation to change, something
those of us in protestant denominations MUST embrace to go forward in our
changed age. It was delivered by a well
spoken, well educated, dynamic DS who engaged us intellectually and spiritually
with a carefully honed message. Most representative of change was the DS
herself – yes , SHE, and an African American SHE as well. A welcome poster
child representing the virtue of change.
This morning at 7:00 am I waved good bye with much arm-fat jiggling
fanfare to Zack as he headed to California.
We spent the evening packing and once I realized he intended to relax and take
dirty clothes, I begged to do them for him, as one last motherly chore. Four
loads and hours later I folded the last clean Tshirt and he tucked his
favorites into his suitcase.
 |
| Four loads of laundry in a single basket! |
While the laundry washed, spun and dried Zack and I had a
little last minute bonding over the season finale of True Blood. We watched together as we had for the past
five seasons a show that features vampires, fairies, shape shifters and
werewolves sprinkled heavily with gratuitous violence and gratuitous nudity.
(Though one could argue that a show about vampires is by definition violent and
any show involving Alexander Skarsgård should, in fact, include gratuitous
nudity.) And what was the takeaway message of the season final? Change or
perish.
 |
| From the True Blood Season 6 Finale |
Seven hours , a box of Kleenex and a red nose later(mine), Zack is on his
way, his small blue Toyota stuffed to the
roof like an old lady’s pocketbook. Nat
has provided me a shoulder to cry on and Earle has encouraged a nap because he knows I slept very little last night. (Zack reports he slept
well!) I am working hard to get into
the spirit of change in regards to this new normal of sending my love across
the country in letters and texts rather than in a tight hug. I am trying to get
into the spirit of dreaming of a visit to the Bay area. I will lug fewer
gallons of milk home from Harris Teeter and have no need to pick up banana
peels and dirty socks. I will change. I
will not perish. I will thrive, despite the occasional sniffle.
 |
| Nat, Zack, and Earle |
 | ||
Me, Zack, Earle
|
 |
| On his way! |
In fact, I may even buy a new journal. Because this time I will change my exercise and eating
habits!
Post script. I found Zack’s jacket hanging on a chair to dry
after he wore it while he wrestling the
bike rack onto the back of his car. I will mail the jacket to him. A forgotten jacket, a mom getting that jacket to
her son. Because sometimes, the more
things change, the more they stay the same.
