Reminded me I’m a terrible daughter by saying he’s learned not to expect phone calls from his kids.
He talked for almost half an hour.
I was yawning like crazy.
Didn’t want to miss a daily post.
Promised to call home tomorrow then remembered I had plans 🤦♀️. But I’ll still try to call him somehow. I don’t think he’s doing well, and that hurts me. Even more so because I’m bad at being a daughter.
Call your parents, if you have them. If not, call a friend. They need you even if they don’t need you.
It’s not the curriculum that is being taught and it’s not the teachers who have to teach it that are the problem, it is the parents who were never taught it who are.
Do not misjudge my point. Or do, I’m not the police. But fighting over common core math is a pointless endeavor maybe.
What is Common Core Math? And why do it be?
Yes, I know I don’t use proper English. Have you even read my posts?
Common Core is a set of standards adopted by states, which governs the way that subject matter is taught in public schools. Common Core Math is just one subset of Common Core, which I will abbreviate to CC for the remainder of this post. CC includes language arts and mathematics subjects taught to K-12 students. It is a set of standards that are the same throughout the United States, throoughout the states who have adopted it, which is important considering education is dictated and governed by individual states.
Honestly, I’m researching as I write this, most of my prior knowledge about education and its practice comes from education I received over a decade ago and never used. So, I mean, don’t quote me. The state of Kentucky, the state I was born and raised in, got my education degree in, and currently live in adopted Common Core Standards in 2010, two years after I graduated from college. Actually, according to my research, Kentucky was the first state to adopt CC, out of all those who did so.
States have always used their own set of standards in education, but CC was created in 2009 and states began to adopt it as their education standards in 2010.
Former Georgia Governor Sonny Perdue and I co-chaired the initiative to create the standards because we shared the concerns of lawmakers, teachers, school leaders, businesspeople, and parents that expectations for our students were not high enough to prepare them for life after high school. Although the effort was entirely voluntarily, 45 states ultimately adopted this set of fewer, clearer, and more rigorous standards in English language arts and mathematics. With the input of educators, policymakers and experts, we laid out the knowledge and skills students need to be prepared for college and career opportunities and set practical bars for them to achieve.
Basically, CC was created to improve the learning of and prepare students for growth and life after high school. There was an idea that the standards were not high enough for students to gain the knowledge they needed to succeed in life as adults. So, someone saw a need for it and created a solution. Each state voluntarily chose to adopt CC, as each state was given control over their education systems. These standards were also created to establish a set of standards that could be used across all 50 United States to equalize education throughout the country.
What’s the Problem Though?
The main issue I see with the adoption of CC by states is that the parents of today have not learned the way that their children are currently learning. The kids who started learning with CC are, at the oldest thirteen years old, and babies shouldn’t have babies that need to learn based on CC standards. Meaning that there shouldn’t be a soul who learned that way who has a kid that needs help.
Like I said earlier, I went to college to be a teacher, an elementary school teacher, and I graduated two years before my state adopted CC. I do not recall being taught HOW to teach kids with CC standards.
Why is doing so as hard as it seems? Well, because CC Math isn’t just teaching kids that 2+2=4. It’s teaching kids that to get the answer to that problem, you need to figure out how to add it step by step.
For example:
This is a math problem my child will have to do tomorrow evening, at home, with me. The second image is me trying to figure out where the 30 came from.
The whole idea for this post came from me having to deal with frequent messages to a message group created by the teachers of my child’s grade. One parent was, let’s just say, not thrilled with the complication of the problem. Where, in fact, did the 30 come from? The problem does not explain the existence of the number 30. I assume it’s existence in the problem came from rounding up 27. That would explain one of the threes. Maybe? Yes. I don’t know.
My theory as to why these problems are so complicated is that it can cater to children’s different learning abilities and also contribute to critical thinking skills. How is there another way to figure out how many kids joined the first 27 kids to make a total of 63, besides subtracting 27 from 63 (which is, in fact, 36).
Actually, the problem is already done, they literally just trace out the answers. At least The Kids likes to do that.
In fact, this sheet is part of a four page, back and front, packet that she brought home that has to be done by Friday. I don’t like to rush her or over work her, but she wanted to do ALL FOUR PAGES tonight. The kid likes math, and I’m not mad.
Now, had there been more of an explanation to the problem, perhaps access to an article or video or something that the parent could have observed and understood the problem better, maybe there would have been less issue. But these kids aren’t given textbooks to read to take home, they have their own workbooks that sheets are removed from when they have work to bring home.
There is some controversy with CC. More than one or two states who have adopted the standards have repealed them Wikipedia says that Kentucky adopted them in 2010 but repealed them in 2017. A quick google search reveals that to be false. Republicans wanted to repeal the standards and also make charter schools a thing, which, no. Republican’s said that because the state’s students were not improving on their test scores (do not get me started) that CC needed to go. But based on that article they only started making noise once Obama gave his thumbs up.
The Thing Is
If parents understood CC better, math being the biggest issue from what I can tell, then I think they would have less issue with it. In a way, CC complicates education, and doing so makes it difficult for teachers to teach it and parents to assist their children in learning it. And having nothing to go by but a worksheet with mystery numbers can increase a parent’s frustration. And not being able to help your kid when you need it can lead to that kid struggling, and every suit’s favorite thing–numbers–get affected.
And by numbers I don’t mean math problems. I mean the test scores by which students’, and there for the schools’ progress is measured. And teachers have had to teach to a test and not to a student for years, long before CC, and having funding for those schools depend on the numbers complicates matters further.
I’m going to put all of this simply, using the same explanation I’ve used for a number of things in the past, and will use again in the future. Someone is always going to find a reason to hate something, or stir up a ruckus, no matter what you do. Repeal Common Core, then the things that change will be what everyone else has a problem with,
My Opinion
Common Core is a subject in and of itself and it is complicated. On the one hand, I can see the benefit of having one set of standards throughout all of the United States. I can see the benefit of having math problems that teach multiple ways of finding an answer, and lessons that trigger a child’s critical thinking and problem-solving skills. On the other hand, having something so compilated and hoping the parents, who don’t all have college degrees in education (perhaps the old system failed them?) and no way for them to know how to find the answer the way the problem is asking, puts a burden on the parents, who feel like they are failing their children.
Me? I’m just going to do my best to help my math loving child. She got that from her dad, by the way. I hate math.
This is a fiction Friday post. It will NOT be completed in this post.
Dena stared and the Valentine’s Day decorations that Cupid must have vomited onto the walls of her office. The resident Perky Patty in the office had, as she does every holiday, decorated every possible shared space with the traditional Valentines symbols and imagery. Hearts and fat winged babies with a bow and arrows, more hearts. All these in varying shades of red, pink, and white.
Most of her coworkers had been drawn into the holiday decor game, as well. She could look over the walls of her cubicle in any direction and see pops of red or pink here or there, where it wasn’t before.
Dena Ritter hated Valentine’s Day.
Okay, that was per haps a little harsh. It was more like she was quietly jealous of people who had someone to celebrate it with. She herself was hopelessly single and had been since her college boyfriend broke up with her so he could backpack across Europe with no strings attached. Even Patty, that was her actual name after all, a late 40s divorcee celebrated her cats. The woman had season pictures taken with her cats regularly.
Dena sighed as she took one last look around the room, and got back to work.
A few hours later, just as everyone was wrapping up their lunch, which Dena took in her cubicle, Patty walked by, knocking on the padded wall of Dena’s cubical.
“Hi, Dena!” Perky Patty cheerfully asked.
“I’m good, Patty.” Dena responded, looking up from her computer screen. “How are you?” Like most of their coworkers Dena found Patty mildly annoying but not enough to be unkind. She had her “a little too much moments, but it was tolerable most of the time.
“Great! I’m so glad!” She exclaimed, giving Dena’s forearm a quick pat. “I didn’t see ya in the break room, so I thought I’d. One by and give you this.” She handed her a sheet of copy paper. “It’s the list of activities for the week of Valentine’s Day! It’s going to be so much fun!” She did a little clapping motion with her small hands. “And there’s a potluck on the 14th! Isn’t that lovely?”
Dena smiled at Patty, “that’ll be great, it’s gonna be a fun week!” She exclaimed, hoping the sarcasm was hidden well enough.
“It sure is!” Patty agreed. “Well, I’ll let ya get back to your work, then.” They smiled politely at each other one last time and Patty turned and left.
Before she put the sheet down she glanced over it. Cupcakes one day, cookies another. One day had “chocolate covered strawberries or chocolate fountain TBD” written on it.
“Strawberries seem more sanitary but a fountain seems nice.” She thought to herself. “Might as well embrace Valentines with coworkers, they’re really all I’ve got.”
Three hours later it was fine to head home, and Dena packed up and headed out. She ended up in the elevator with Patty and a few other coworkers, including the snobby blonde who hated everything but her phone, and the quiet awkward guy who worked in IT that didn’t talk to anyone unless their computer was broken and he couldn’t fix it remotely.
For the few minutes it took the elevator to reach the ground floor where the parking garage was located, no one really spoke, and Patty bummed cheerfully to the elevator music. Just before the doors opened, Patty turned to the others and wished even a lovely evening then walked away.
Dena, who always waited to be last because she didn’t want to get in anyone’s way, stood waiting for her turn, when awkward guy motioned for her to go.
“Oh no,” she said, “you go ahead.”
He motioned for her to go again, and she again insisted he go. After their back and forth lasted longer than necessary, Dena was too tired to not get frustrated and give up. She sighed exasperated Lu and walked off the elevator. Walking away quickly she just barely caught him saying, “have a good night.” She turned around to return the sentiment but she saw him walking quickly in the opposite direction.
She shrugged, “whatever” then walked to her car. When she finally got to it she pushed the button in Her keychain to unlock it and went to step inside, when she saw something tucked under the wiper blade. She grabbed it, her first thought being a flyer for one thing or another that she’ll just toss later.
When she looked closer at it after starting her car and locking her doors, she noticed it was an envelope. Nothing on the outside, front of back. She was slowing becoming the only car in the garage, which made her look uncomfortable so she pulled out and drove home.
When she made it home to her empty apartment, which did not allow pets if any sort, and took off her shoes. After dropping all of her belongings she’d she’d reach them in the morning, she flopped down in her couch and opened the envelope.
First off, The Kid decided to run and go and tripped and fell. She hit her elbow on her door frame. There’s a small cut that she took forever to let me clean and bandage, but she’s gonna be in more pain tomorrow from whacking it at high speeds on a door jam.
We left the house today to run some errands and came home to find my dog ACQUIRED A HAM BONE AND LEFT BITS AND PIECES THROUGHOUT THE HOUSE.
I have to go back to work tomorrow after two glorious days off, only to have to deal with my least favorite time of the week. It’s a time consuming task and basically takes all day.
The Hubs got me a diamond painting kit that includes ten small (3in x 3in) canvas based on space.
It took me too days but I finished the first one and I’m hooked. Now, if I can stop losing the little “diamonds”.
My sister said she didn’t know what to get me and ended up fueling my addiction to stationary getting me a nice leather journal and pens. I want to start writing in it but I don’t want to ruin it with my usual nonsense. I’ll think of something good.
My truck hasn’t been started in like five days and I’m sure, beyond a shadow of a doubt, that it’ll be freezing in there. Honestly I’ll be surprised if she starts.
Yes it’s a she.
I’m gonna start working on the next drawing challenge soon, but I wanna do some research on the topic first. And plan for the video’s content. If I’m gonna keep doing it I need to at least improve.
These last few days of very little stress have been a beacon of joy for me. I have had slightly less tummy issues, and it’s nice to not have to worry about work. And knowing the holiday season is over (except, that is, for the clearance) just makes me happy.
Like everyone says, “it happens so fast.” And boy are they right. I can still see you for the first time, in my arms all puffy and pink.
I can still see you in your father’s arms, and the glow on his face when he looked upon yours.
I can still see you sleeping at home. I can still see the you and I, you sleeping peacefully in my arms as I struggle to stay awake in that rocking chair, knowing that once I lay you down you will wake back up.
I can still see you fussing with your first teeth coming in, we could not settle you for long.
I can still see you giving up the pacifier.
Honestly I was trying to get you to take it so I could go back to sleep after you went back to sleep but you were like, “no my dude.” Never took it again.
The bottle weening, and then the sippy cup weening, the first steps, the dime incident—which was also the first emergency room visit. The second visit being the minor head wound.
FYI head wounds are bleeders. They’ll bleed like crazy and it’ll just be a scratch.
Potty training was THE WORST. Like, sometimes I can’t believe we all got through that relatively unscathed.
You are still my reason for living and still sometimes on my last nerve. You are amazing and smart and silly and ridiculous and frustrating and special and bonkers and wonderful.
You are the best thing to ever happen to me but I still don’t recommend parenthood because it is stressful and expensive and exhausting and the most amazing thing in the whole world.
I will never ever love another creature or thing on this earth like I love you, and the whole of my heart is yours. You above all else always.
I would kill a man (or woman, I do not discriminate based on gender) for you, within reason. Give me a good reason, to do it. This is by no means me admitting to murder.
If anyone ever hurts you they will experience the wrath of god by my own hand. There is no other Hell like a mother scorned. I’m not very strong but I’ll go down swinging!
This got really dark really fast lol
I want nothing but the best for you and I push you through your homework and trying because it’ll help you in the long run. And yes, I don’t let you eat constantly because it’s not good for you. I don’t want you to be like me. I don’t want you to be shaped like me. Is that bad? I often wonder if I’m being a bad mom because of that.
I want you to be happy. No matter what you choose to do in life, I want it to be something you love and that makes you happy.
But you cannot be a cash register—Imean cashier— it won’t make you happy trust me. Oh wait. Last time you said you wanted to be a scientist.
We are not rich, but we try really hard to give you everything you need and a little of what you want. And to be honest you get more than a little of what you want. You are and will always be our only child and we have a hard time not spoiling you, just a little.
Know, always, that no matter what, you are loved. You are loved my many. Loved beyond measure, loved without buts, conditions, or circumstances. You are loved with all of your flaws and imperfections, with all your mistakes and bad decisions.
Not been feeling well today, I don’t know if it’s unbalanced chemicals leading to depression and anxiety building up in my head or just me getting sick, again. But either way my head feels like it’s going to explode. Luckily it’s almost bedtime and there’s 800mg of ibuprofen on the case.
But you know me, Mrs Glutton for Punishment, I can’t not post!
Most interesting thing to happen today: I bought a rechargeable hand warmer. I paid $20 for it and should have, mostly because it needs charged now and I’m not feeling like getting up for it.
Went shopping with my husband without a child and we managed to get everything done we needed to before 6pm. It was crazy. I spend entirely too much and credit cards are the devil. But we also saved because of my work. So meh. Ok.
The Kid’s birthday is coming up soon! Tomorrow we begin the celebrations with ice cream at the local shop with her friend. The friend is a few years younger but besties is besties.
I’ve always worried that my girl would not be able to make friends but here we are, having ice cream with friends tomorrow! I’m so excited for her, and by golly I want ice cream too.
Anyway, it’s time for bed, i don’t think I can do this anymore lol. By “this” I mean stay awake.
By my calculations this was in fact my 400th Blog post! Yay me?
I made this! On something…
Faking One’s Death is NOT Illegal
It’s the reasons behind it that can be illegal.
I only looked it up for a friend.
Anyway, according to Wikipedia (I really should donate to them, TBH) the act of faking one’s death, which for obvious reasons *ahem* insurance fraud *ahem* has become more frequent in the 19th century, can only become a legal matter if you are doing for nefarious purposes. Or, you know, avoiding prosecution.
So, it’s important to note, that one should not fake their own death for insurance purposes, to evade the law, or as a practical joke. While no one is actually physically hurt, faking your death is not “victimless” because there are going to be people affected in some way.
And also, these days, most people who fake their deaths get caught. Because of technology and widespread mainstream surveillance—there are cameras everywhere—you’re likely to get found out.
Like how at the end of that one Nocturnal Flying Rodent Man movie Alfred Pennyworth caught the American Psycho and Princess Diaries in Paris. Poor Al blamed himself for not making his boss stop the vigilante stuff, and that cat tried to clutch his mom’s pearls.
Sorry I’m trying not to spoil anything and I’ve also not seen that movie in a while.
I may or may not have had an imagined scenario where my truck ends up in the river but I’m not in it. But I promised I’d never fake my death. There are reasons. HERE’S A LIST:
Reasons I would Never fake my death
I am lazy: it sounds like a LOT of work to fake one’s death. I don’t like work.
I would miss my kid: the idea that I would have to be separated from her for the rest of my days. Nope
I wouldn’t want to leave my family with my debt: I am still ALIVE because of this. Knowing that debt collectors would come for them once my payments stop rolling in. If someone wanted to help me out with that’s only about 25 grand.
I really want to see how many days in a row I wanna post to this blog: I would have to abandon it if I “died”. I’m that stubborn.
I’m at the stage where I’m starting to fall asleep sitting up with a phone in my head. Melatonin and warm blankets are my kryptonite. Goodnight!
Now, I owe absolutely no one an explanation. At the time I gave a brief (I think) explanation as to why I did it, on my personal page, and that was more than was required to give by any means. And to be honest, I have zero plans to go into it here.
I do, however, want to give a brief summery of what “life” has been like since I logged off.
Now, by “log off” I mean exactly what it says. I did not deactivate more did I delete my personal Facebook account. I logged off to avoid the ease of going back. I have kept my account on the offhand chance that someone might want to message me. I also communicate with my child’s daycare via Facebook messenger, and don’t want to lose that.
I have intentionally logged in probably less than ten times over these last 11+ months for various reasons. I added one of my managers so I can communicate with them via Messenger. I logged on to connect with a previously attached account (mostly Timehop). I have accidentally logged on via computer.
However, I still have my CrashdLanding Facebook page and the CrashdLanding Site Group. How do I manage those? Simple. A dummy account.
My dummy account is named based off a nickname given to me by a crazy old man that would come into RETAIL ESTABLISHMENT. Honestly he was in fact losing his marbles and I believe he passed away.
He had a joke, every time he came in. He always forgot he’d already told it to me. “Have you ever seen a catfish?” I can’t remember his version of the punchline, but here’s this:
I learned that he told it to multiple people about every time he walked into the store. Well, he rolled into the store. He started having to use the electric shopping carts.
He was also a bit inappropriate but many of us chalked it up to old age and his slipping sanity.
Unlike the old man who recently saw me in the floor and said “on your knees is a good place to be this morning.” I’m sure an old eastern KY man’s intention was a reference to praying on your knees. You know what, I’m gonna let myself believe that.
Anyway, he got to the point where he started calling me Catfish. “What are you doing, Catfish?” Probably because I started either calling him in the joke, or outright telling him he’s told me before.
I’m not bothered by telling the same joke over and over. I told fifteen people the other day this gem:
“Why do ducks have feathers? To cover their butt QUACKS.”
Anyway, he started calling me Catfish and it stuck. To me, no one else called me that. But it worked since my first name starts with a “C”. He knew that too, and he had also told me it was a pretty name.
Anyway, that explains the “C.F.” The surname aspect of the dummy account came from a thing I found. See, I used to… hm… be the person… who said hello to customers, that’s why my joker always saw me. So, I often swept the floors near the front and cleaned debris and baby diapers (yes, I said diapers) from shopping carts.
One day I found what appeared the be the Velcro backed name tag from an army or military uniform. The likelihood that they were gonna come looking for it coupled with my hoarder personality, slathered with my frustrating habit of putting things in my pocket just to keep from holding it and the “Keathley” name tag came home with me.
Did… did I steal that? AM I A THIEF?!
That was all about 10-12 years ago. From the joke to the name tag. And it was how C.F. “Catfish” Keathley was born. She has a backstory.
I used the name to create a Facebook account many years ago, for the purpose of deactivating my personal account, which I’ve done in multiple occasions. I very rarely post to the dummy account, but I use her to maintain my page and group.
When I logged out of my personal account I hoped to avoid some of the negative energy that social media can bring. It has, in the past, caused me a not unnoticed amount of emotional and mental distress. While I do get less of that from Facebook, I still have acceptance and acknowledgment issues with the rest of my social media accounts. But nowhere near what I was suffering with Facebook.
While there are benefits to my Facebook hiatus, there are negatives as well. Like not knowing how close my brother came to getting sucked up by a tornado in Wisconsin until my sister told me she saw it on Facebook. But he’s fine and probably jokes about it now.
There have been multiple people who have seen me in person and either said, “where did you go?” Or said “I miss your posts”. What bothers me is that, one, if they’d do a little digging theif could figure out what happened and two, they probably no where to find me but haven’t tried.
I find myself wondering if they were ever really my friend or I was just entertainment. I mean, yes, I’m hilarious, but I’m a person, too. Dang.
Anywho, I’m considering going back? After I’ve surpassed one year, to simply clean up my account. Delete some unnecessary photos, unattached from accounts. But it’ll feel almost like breaking my fast from Pepsi. You know, at one point I went almost two weeks without a Pepsi? And then one bad day and it was all ruined.
That being said, if I do break my fast, it’s gonna e after I’ve made it a full year. I will pride myself on that one thing, at least.
Here’s a picture from today with absolutely no context:
My sister out cooked me but only because she over does it. It was absolutely delicious and I ate entirely too much for someone whose digestive system doesn’t work quite right, I got to spend time with some family, and the stuff I made got good reviews.
However the Kid is asleep next to me with what appears to be a mild fever, and I’m writing this with one eye closed because I’m sleepy and they like to focus on two different things when I’m tired.
So goodnight, and have a great Friday! And if you plan on shopping be kind to retail workers and your fellow customer! OR ELSE.
I was once asked if not having a place to go to “visit” my mother’s remains, like a gravesite, was hard.
I’ve thought about her a lot lately. I think about her every day, but it’s usually a small blip of, “oh that reminds me of her” or “she would have liked to see The Kid do that”. But lately it’s more significant, more tangible.
I was going through my closet, searching for things to rid myself of, the clutter of life collected after 37+ years of living. I happened upon a tote full of purses. There was a Dooney and Burke handbag my mother in law gave me, a Coach duffle, that’s probably fake, and a purple purse.
This purple purse has significance to me. I eyeballed this purse for a month. Told myself I didn’t need it, couldn’t afford it. But it was only $35, I think. I wanted it badly, but knew that I only carried purses for a little while then stopped.
I eventually convinced myself to get it, it’s not a fancy brand name, it’s not the best looking purse. But I got it and told myself I’d carry it forever. I think I did for a long time. My iPad fit in it and so it became a briefcase of sorts.
I eventually bought a pretty floral wallet and pouch to match—purse organization is important—and was so proud of it. But eventually, like every purse, I stopped carrying it. I got bored of packing one, it got too full and heavy, I just didn’t need all that stuff.
But guess who decided they wanted to borrow it? Yep. My momma.
Mom was a purse lover. She was very particular about the purse she carried. And apparently the purple purse suited her needs. So I loaned it to her.
She was also a smoker, however. Up until the last four months of her life she smoked heavily. I knew the purse would come back to me reeking of the smell, but being the daughter of smokers, I’ve learned how to get rid of it. So it didn’t bother me much.
By the time she died one April, I’d completely forgotten about the purse. I don’t know how long she’d had it. But after her death, we were going through her things as a family, and there it was, still in good condition, with the wallet and pouch still in fine shape as well.
And it did not reek of cigarette smoke. It smelled like the faux leather it was made of, the house it was stored in, and by association: her.
Everyone has their own unique smell. A combination of bodily chemistry, and the things we surround ourselves with. That’s why perfume can smell different on one person than it does another. Just like everyone, Mom had her own unique smell. Her bodily chemistry, the house she lived in, and yes even the cigarette smoke.
The thing is, I never smelled the smoke on her, unless she was actively smoking. and even after she quit completely, I never smelled anything but her.
And when I opened up that tote with those purses just a few days ago, I didn’t at first recognize that smell. It was a nostalgic smell, a scent of dusty old memories kept in an enclosed container for far too long. And it had been so long, more than four years in fact, since I looked at that purse, I didn’t realize the significance of it.
But then I opened it up, after having tossed it aside to view the fake Coach duffle (I’m pretty sure it’s fake based on the format of the serial number don’t tell my mother in law it’s fake). Inside that purple purse, was the wallet and pouch, but also another reminder of my mother. Two unused bottles of Vanilla Fields perfume, still in the box. Her signature scent and absolute favorite.
Our last Christmas with her I’d purchased her four bottles, it was just a few dollars a bottle—a Christmas special—I gifted her some every year. And every year she was absolutely thrilled to have it. She’d open one up and immediately spray some on her neck and wrists.
Also in the purse were two tubes of lipstick, one I’d given her and one she’d purchased herself. Both had been used and both, being at least five years old, weren’t in the best of shape. Like the perfume, the lipsticks have gone off too.
Of all the things I’d gathered up that day to put in my mother-in-law’s yard sale, that purse, and it’s contents, will not be finding a new home. Between that being something I had to convince myself to buy, and her being the last to carry it, it stays.
Perhaps one day, when I’m feeling like carrying a purse again, instead of shopping around for a new one, I’ll dig into that closet, to the bottom tote in the middle, the black one. I’ll open up that lid, letting the smell waft out and permeate the air, and pull that purse from storage.
But then it’d start to smell less like her and more like me, and I don’t know that I’m ready for that.
Is not having a gravesite to visit when I’m thinking of my mom hard? No. Not only do I have a purple purse that smells of her, several pairs of earrings that belonged to her, but also, a small glass bottle of her ashes. I also have her with me, in my heart and mind.
These fleshy husks of skin and bone and tissues aren’t going to last forever. These are not who we are. These are what carries us around this mortal world. When our bodies finally reach their expiration date and spoil, we leave them. 37+ years in and I still don’t know where the rest goes, if anywhere. But I know that she is not those ashes or a body that those ashes became. She is the memory that I have, triggered by the smell of that purse, those bottles of Vanilla Fields. And I can visit her, and talk to her anytime I want. She may not answer back (I’d question my sanity if she did) but I know I can remember her anytime I want to.
Crash Landing 