1 Dad. Fifty-four years ago today, my parents were wed, thereby paving the way for my very existence. Within a two-week period, Dad graduated from college, married my mom, was commissioned into the U.S. Navy, and moved to Norfolk for his first ship assignment. I miss his ability to get things done.
2 My rearview mirror. I drive my father’s 2001 GMC Yukon. He called it the Burb, because it’s like a fake Suburban. The other day Hot Firefighter Husband tried to adjust the rearview mirror and it fell right off. Now it’s hanging by a cord which still allows it to flash the outside temp and the direction in which I’m headed. I don’t miss Dad’s voice telling me how dangerous it is, and that he’ll pay for it, just get the damn thing fixed, because I hear his voice every time I start the engine.
3 Husband’s front tooth. Every year or so, Husband loses his front tooth. I don’t understand it. It’s a cap? Or a temporary? Or a fake? It’s baffling. A couple of weeks ago, he texted me a picture of his new smile with the caption, Guess who’s back? And I’m like, somebody named Jimmy Bob? A moonshiner? A 5-year-old trapped in a man’s body? “Do you think it’s noticeable?” he asked. Sigh. I love him so much anyway. But yes, it’s sort of noticeable.
4 Blue Puppy. A couple of years ago, probably during a trip, the Pterodactyl’s beloved Blue Puppy disappeared, and absolutely cannot be found. Blue Puppy had been with my son since he was two – my son, who has attachment issues, hates change, and never willingly parts with anything other than empty candy wrappers. So this has been traumatic for him, perhaps even more so because his younger sister has the ever-present Teddy, who has become like a fourth child in the family. I tried to replace Blue Puppy, but can’t find its exact replica, so we are stuck with Blue Dog, who is absolutely not the same. Every week or so, the boy and I cry together about the loss.
5 Watermelon. The watermelon vine in my garden appears lush and healthy, with beautiful green leaves and vines – and not a single melon. After some sketchy Googling, I learned that watermelon blooms need to be pollinated by bees. And the only bees we have around here are the ones digging holes in our porch ceiling. Cucumbers and banana peppers are the unqualified success stories of this year’s garden, and I’ve perfected a cucumber-banana-pepper-fresh herb salad. But still, it would have been cool to grow a melon.
6. Order. Honestly, I wish I could just hose down the interior of my little house. I don’t understand people with kids whose homes are always acceptable for company. Do their children never invent perfumes in the kitchen using scented cleaning spray? Do they not have piles of coupons they’ll never use accumulating under the dog treat jar? Do their kids not each use 14 cups and plates per day? Maybe they don’t have dogs.
7. Comprehension. I don’t understand how people having the right to purchase assault rifles improves my life or anyone else’s. I don’t understand why anyone thinks a man like Donald Trump is suitable to lead our country. And, dear Spirit of Socrates, please help me understand those people who go about their daily lives with judgement and enmity, unaware of how their little acts of unkindness are like moss on the rolling stone of hate that keeps wheeling around. It matters, people. You matter. Why can’t you act like it?