We used to pick up pecans from our front yard, and sell them to a local pecan farm for Christmas money. All four of us would scour our immense lawn collecting huge trash bins full of pecans. It was always so rewarding to see those trash bins be lifted onto the huge scale at the pecan farm and to see the digital numbers quickly climbing. With each pound came more reward for the days we spent in the cold on our hands and knees. We received our money that year… I was maybe nine or ten years old… and I folded it nicely into thirds and put it in my front right pocket. Safe and sound.
So, a few days later, when Grunner asked me where my money was before we went shopping; I quickly ran to my room to proudly get my money. Because I knew exactly where it was; however, I had changed my jeans since then…. so my money was surely still in the front pocket of the jeans that were in my room from the day we went to the pecan farm. I slammed my hand into the front right pocket of the dirty jeans with excitement. I was ready to present my money and be praised for my responsible behavior. But, it wasn’t there. I quickly searched the floor around the vicinity of my pants… then looked in other places around the house that I would have likely left it. I retraced my steps… and then retraced them again. Days went by. I thought that I had lost everything. I didn’t know how I was going to buy Christmas presents. I was so embarrassed that I had lost it because I prided myself on being responsible… and what child ever loses sight (or grip) of their money?!
As I prepared my dirty clothes for the laundry later that week I checked the pockets of all of my jeans. Just like Mom taught me. And as I slid my hand into the front right pocket of those dirty jeans. There it was. It formed into my palm perfectly. As though I had been holding onto it the entire time. I remember inspecting that pocket to figure out how I had missed it so many times. The pocket had a bit of an indent towards the zipper. A little pocket inside of a pocket, if you will. My desperate hands must have glazed past those bills ten times… grabbing for something that was just out of their reach.
For the last several weeks, I have found myself again reaching for something that is just out of my grasp. My old blog entries. As I desperately tried to change the design of my old blog I unknowingly did catastrophic damage. My old blog is completely gone… and along with it are all the words I ever wrote about my beautiful couples, my children, my family… etc. They are tucked away somewhere inside of the layers of the internet. A pocket inside of a pocket… just out of my reach. I am beyond sad that I lost something so dear to me, but they were only words. And words can be re-written.
So, here I am. Starting all over again. It will take me a while to plump this blog back up, so thank you in advance for your patience.
