A good friend calls you to offer their condolences that your great-grandmother's home – the birthplace of my creativity – has burned to the ground.
A great friend – the ultimate friend – tells you: STAY OFF FACEBOOK, DUDE. YOU ARE TOO SAD AND MOPEY FOR THIS. PEOPLE ARE SHOWING THEIR CONCERN, BUT YOU ARE TOO UPSET TO DISCUSS IT…. WHAT ARE YOU DOING? I SEE YOU LOGGING ONTO FACEBOOK. STOP. IT. OR I'LL CALL YOUR HUSBAND.
I have the best friend in the entire world. I love her so much it hurts. We are codependent, ridiculously self-entertained creatures and she means more to me than she will ever know. And last night she didn't handle me like I'd break. She reassured me that this did in fact sucks, that I should cry some and then let it go.
So I did. Or so I'm trying to.
Can't tell you how many people have written to me and said kind things or shared humorous stories about my Nene. She was that kind of person – the sort of lady you don't forget.
A friend from college offered to drive out to my parent's home and see if they needed anything. The house that burned was in their side yard and we are blessed it didn't spread. I told her the only thing that affected Mama and Daddy directly was the loss of electricity since the fire blew out a transformer.
Then, during the middle of my update, she goes: WAIT. THAT REMINDS ME… DIDN'T NENE USED TO TOTE A CORDLESS PHONE AROUND IN HER POCKET? IN CASE SHE FELL?
That was something I'd forgotten that she did. She liked to have her phone on her at all times. Mostly it was because she was better than the ticker on CNN for giving the latest update or news. If you drove by her house slowly or fast or swerved she knew it. She was plugged in. I can't believe I had forgotten all about her superior snooping skills.
I think that's why I'm so sad about her little, worthless house burning. It feels like all those moments we shared in it are gone too. Makes me wonder how many other things have I forgotten?
And so my night of depression began!
You can't imagine what a GIRL I was being. My extremely tolerant aunt was even rolling her eyes. I know because the eye roll was so loud I could hear it in Texas. Her daughter – my only first cousin on that side of the family – was weepy too. We were the oldest and had spent the most time with Nene. As my cousin and I cried and acted like the pussies we are, my aunt says: NENE WAS A PIONEER WOMAN. SHE'D SAY TO NUT UP, YOU PANSIES.
Which is totally true. Weak pansies never made it to the homestead. They died on the wagon train like Tom. So we sucked it up. Somewhat. I only teared up once today and that was when my dad sent the pictures.
Guys, I know I don't live there anymore or get home to visit enough, but truly thank you for all yall did. From what I gather, the volunteer fire department kept it from spreading to my parents' or aunt's homes. I just wanted to thank all you guys who serve our community. Sometimes I think people forget that you're not paid to do it. Most of you guys volunteer to go into CLEARLY dangerous situations to help your neighbors. The older I get, the more I appreciate the grit and determination of the hardworking folks I come from.
A great friend – the ultimate friend – tells you: STAY OFF FACEBOOK, DUDE. YOU ARE TOO SAD AND MOPEY FOR THIS. PEOPLE ARE SHOWING THEIR CONCERN, BUT YOU ARE TOO UPSET TO DISCUSS IT…. WHAT ARE YOU DOING? I SEE YOU LOGGING ONTO FACEBOOK. STOP. IT. OR I'LL CALL YOUR HUSBAND.
I have the best friend in the entire world. I love her so much it hurts. We are codependent, ridiculously self-entertained creatures and she means more to me than she will ever know. And last night she didn't handle me like I'd break. She reassured me that this did in fact sucks, that I should cry some and then let it go.
So I did. Or so I'm trying to.
Can't tell you how many people have written to me and said kind things or shared humorous stories about my Nene. She was that kind of person – the sort of lady you don't forget.
A friend from college offered to drive out to my parent's home and see if they needed anything. The house that burned was in their side yard and we are blessed it didn't spread. I told her the only thing that affected Mama and Daddy directly was the loss of electricity since the fire blew out a transformer.
Then, during the middle of my update, she goes: WAIT. THAT REMINDS ME… DIDN'T NENE USED TO TOTE A CORDLESS PHONE AROUND IN HER POCKET? IN CASE SHE FELL?
That was something I'd forgotten that she did. She liked to have her phone on her at all times. Mostly it was because she was better than the ticker on CNN for giving the latest update or news. If you drove by her house slowly or fast or swerved she knew it. She was plugged in. I can't believe I had forgotten all about her superior snooping skills.
I think that's why I'm so sad about her little, worthless house burning. It feels like all those moments we shared in it are gone too. Makes me wonder how many other things have I forgotten?
And so my night of depression began!
You can't imagine what a GIRL I was being. My extremely tolerant aunt was even rolling her eyes. I know because the eye roll was so loud I could hear it in Texas. Her daughter – my only first cousin on that side of the family – was weepy too. We were the oldest and had spent the most time with Nene. As my cousin and I cried and acted like the pussies we are, my aunt says: NENE WAS A PIONEER WOMAN. SHE'D SAY TO NUT UP, YOU PANSIES.
Which is totally true. Weak pansies never made it to the homestead. They died on the wagon train like Tom. So we sucked it up. Somewhat. I only teared up once today and that was when my dad sent the pictures.
Guys, I know I don't live there anymore or get home to visit enough, but truly thank you for all yall did. From what I gather, the volunteer fire department kept it from spreading to my parents' or aunt's homes. I just wanted to thank all you guys who serve our community. Sometimes I think people forget that you're not paid to do it. Most of you guys volunteer to go into CLEARLY dangerous situations to help your neighbors. The older I get, the more I appreciate the grit and determination of the hardworking folks I come from.
6 comments:
anytime my dear....that's what we are here for...oh that's me in the blue shirt in the first picture....Wish there was more we could have done...enjoy & charish those memories!
I don't remember if I was hanging with you, Haley, or both one time when Nene came puttering up the road. We were at Haley's house and we hid! We were kids and didn't appreciate her snooping skills at the time. She came and knocked on the door and we all hid! Even when she came araound to the side door and tried to look through the vertical blinds we hid. I am under the belief that your Aunt hid also...
Sorry- good funny memory.
Oh and by the way, I did not CALL YOUR HUSBAND. However, I did I-M him on facebook...
LOVE YA!
Arie, hun...can I admit that the hard hearted bitch teared up when I saw the pictures?
You haven't forgotten any memories of NeNe..they are just hiding, waiting on the perfect time to pop out and say 'Surprize!' And when they do, you'll smile through the tears because she was a wonderful lady, snooping skills and all, and she helped make you who you are.
You keep the memories and the pictures and you think of all the happy stuff that happened in that little house. She was tough and she was there for me with my mobile home burned to the ground in 20 minutes. She told me that it was all just "stuff, only stuff". And she was the leader of the wagon train, or maybe the scout.
Post a Comment