In the last fortnight, I’ve cried, and been sick, twice.
I don’t know why I’ve been sick so much. I do know why I cried, however,
I was downstairs one evening when I suddenly said to myself, “Dad, I’m sorry you didn’t make it to age 101, in honour of your service in the 101st Airbourne Division, back in WII. I’m sorry you didn’t make it to 104, like your father, Mosu.”
Then I said, “Mom, I’m sorry your mind didn’t last as long as your body did. (Mom had dementia.)”
Then I cried, loudly, and messily, for around a minute. I’ve also cried over the death of our dear friend Eric. But that was another time, another place.
“Bunny Ears” refers to how my mom taught – or maybe a better way to put it would be “tried to teach me” how to tie my shoes. After I failed to learn a more standard method, Mom taught me “bunny ears”. This involves forming each shoelace into a loop, thrn wrapping them around each other.
I had an interesting experience earlier this week, involving shoelaces, bunny ears, and a lovely OAP. Contrary to the belief that no one gives a rat’s ass about each other, at least five people in the course of one afternoon me that my shoelaces had come undone. One of them, a lovely old bloke in the queue at Boots, actually tied my laces for me.
It didn’t work for long.
May the gods bring you a happy yet peaceful 2023.
sheila north 