When we got into the car to head out for the final leg of Christmas shopping we were a bit hurried. We were running later than we wanted to and so in a rush we swooshed out the door, fastened car seats X3 and then my husband sits down in the drivers side seat and says "I have a surprise." And fires up THIS on the CD deck.
It might seem silly to you. But I completely burst into tears. Gene Autry singing Christmas songs = my mom making apple cake, my Grandma Brandon and her fake homemade noodles (they were actually REAMES noodles), the Christmas I got Barry Manilow LIVE in my stocking from Santa, getting out the green glass goblets for my parents to drink wine out of if we are at home, the winter my Mom taught me how to make REAL homemade noodles and how disappointed I was that they weren't like Grandma's (thus, I learned the secret of the REAMES noodles). It means making desserts in our kitching on King Street that was freezing cold because that stupid old victorian wasn't properly insulated, but the stove would heat it right up. It meant my childhood Christmases, every good memory rolled into one album - and I know I had that album because my mom is a not so secret devotee of the singing cowboy.
He says he had been looking for it all Christmas season and was at the WalMart looking at those albums, and couldn't find it, was about to walk away when he asked the guy next to him if he had seen that album. The guy said he had, but couldn't remember where. Right then, he touched a CD which fell down to the floor - and the Gene Autry CDs were right behind it.
Mean to be, eh?
The other reason I cried was that I received an envelope from my friend Michele in Lexington containing these.
One is a car decal and one is obviously an awareness bracelet, although more fittingly a comemorative bracelet. They made me sad, and they made me happy to be remembered - that this had been shared with me. The bracelet says "In loving Memory - Flight 5191." The car decal has everyone's name on it and the same sentiment.
So I take a moment to think about their families, and to think about mine.
And to remember, that this is not a dress rehearsal.
So if I haven't told you lately. I love you.