If you can’t make it better, you can laugh at it. (Erma Bombeck)
When I get out of bed my back and knees don’t want to work together. I knock a glass of water onto the floor while reaching for cereal. I sigh and decide to own my day, the pleasant and the unpleasant. It’s going to be good. Just take one thing at a time, Ter.
Then when I return to the kitchen to grab my water bottle before exercise class I see that Jay is already filling it. The spill has dried; I’m ready for hours two, three, four and five of the day. As they arrive.
I’ve heard a lot of family rejection stories lately. They have been shared in confidence. And can’t be relayed in a public forum. I listen and recognize the hurt, but feel uncomfortable when retaliation comes up during the conversation. War doesn’t help. I’m right; here’s a list proving why you are wrong. I hope it scalds you. All the hearer recognizes is tone—original notion verified. Solutions rarely come quickly, or easily.
Then, there are friends who experience constant avalanche-style losses. I have several that I think about daily, sometimes more often, in the middle of the night.
Others suffer severe inconvenience. At a recent gathering of friends one woman told a story where so much went wrong, her journey became comedy. Her road trip, designed by human angels, included black ants, a flat tire, and one example of Murphy’s Law followed by another.
Therefore, when my husband found a blue crayon in the dryer—after it had ruined almost everything in a load of wash—I’d already had the lesson on perspective. Although my husband had not heard the same stories, he did not overreact either. He has friends who suffer as well, and has come to understand perspective through their experience.
Unfortunately, one of the ruined items did not belong to me. I need to replace it.
One dryer has been scrubbed and one ego has been swallowed. “Uh, sorry.” And, yes, I am making good on the cloth that belongs to my church community. Actually, my granddaughter is sewing some new ones. And I will make sure she is rewarded.
Perhaps this is one of the reasons why I don’t go into long tirades on the righteousness of anything. In the next moment I could find another blue crayon in the final stage, the dry-and-set, of my so-called-perfect argument.
One more time from the top…check all pockets before hitting start. In any arena.
terrypetersen 
Looks like a new version of tie dye!
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Looks very familiar. Hope I can remember your perspective next time it happens.
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Hello to every sojourner, pilgrim and fellow traveller discovering my older sister’s writing gifts. Terry’s been on this curious planet since 1946. I since 1947.
Right from the start she understood the words I uttered, she translated my language and became my first interpreter. I was slow to speak, slow to walk, slow to learn. But Terry was there for me and still is. It’s great sharing this with everyone and every one here. Thanks for reading.
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Bill, I only recall that you were my first friend–built in. For me that was and is enough.
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Well, then I’ll settle for once and ever touchstone-built in. You never dismissed me when I was slow to speak, slow to walk, slow to learn. “Was and is enough” is a lot.
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Uh, you forget, Bill–when we played Scrabble and I saved the scores, you were an average of three-points-a-word a better player than I was. Then, remember the cooperate games we played? We tried to get high scores by working together. Maybe the world can learn from us: less squabbling and more encouragement.
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