But not this time.
Several years ago, after my mother-in-law died, I put her house on the market. I think son must have gone through all the closets and garage storage and rescued a lot of things I wasn't aware of because...
the package contained two photo albums of my husband's family and him while they still lived in Ohio. They came to California when he was 12 or thereabouts. I think his mother had a camera permanently installed in her hand when he was growing up. In almost all the snaps, he was very serious looking, even frowning. And as he got older the frown deepened. Maybe he didn't like his picture taken. I dunno.
Anyway, I called Megan and told her I had a package addressed to her, and could I open it. She said sure. So I had to call her back as it took serious effort to get the box open. I called her back and told her she was going to go flat out of her mind when she saw the contents of the package.
Now my daughter had an especially close relationship with her father, and identifies more with the paternal side, so I know she's going to treasure these albums. There's also a 5th cousin (that's a pretty tenuous relationship) who has put together a family history. Would like to share this album with her, too, but she lives in Arizona. In fact, lives in the same town as my step-daughter.
Megan is coming by tomorrow (her day off), and pick up the albums then. And, incidentally, stay and visit with her mother for awhile. Sometimes I have to dangle the carrot to get a little time with her.
Ah, that was unkind. She has a job and a home and a family to take care of. But I do so enjoy her company and appreciate any amount of time she can give me. So when I have a carrot, I know how to use it. I could very well take the albums to her, but then I'd have to share the time with anyone else who happened to be home. I'm greedy where my daughter is concerned.
The shoulder started giving me some serious pain last night. Managed maybe two hours of sleep. Called the doctor's office and got a new prescription for Vicodin (generic). I'm very leery of narcotics, and probably wait too long after the pain has started, but I hate to think I might become addicted. In fact, it scares me. Having worked in alcohol and drug rehab, I understand how easily it can happen. And how hard it is to shake. Once an addict, always an addict, and it's the rest of your lifetime fighting the urge. I won't go there.
Well, that's it for this evening.
Shalom