Showing posts with label truth. Show all posts
Showing posts with label truth. Show all posts

Thursday, January 9, 2014

A Few Things I Learned While Snowed In


Dear Friends/Family,

Here’s a few things I’ve learned while snowed in:

1) When I stay in my pajamas all day, it takes the fun out of getting into my jammies (but I’ve suffered)

2) Stashing Christmas cookies in the freezer doesn’t keep me from eating them.

3) Just because my world shut down doesn’t mean everyone else’s has (sorry fellow bloggers, I’ve been in my own world, eating cookies in my pajamas).


Seriously though, I’m taking a little hiatus—those html and programming skills that I learned a year ago are being put to the test. I have a project to do. Perhaps I’ll be back at the end of January… and until then…

Growth begins as I discover the truth within.

Monday, October 22, 2012

Myrtle the Turtle


Dear Mom,

Not only does watermelon remind me of you, it is my favorite fruit. I just bought one at Trader Joe’s and I was a little worried it might not be very good since it’s towards the end of the watermelon season. But oh, was it delicious. I think that’s the last one I’ll purchase for the year so as not to ruin the watermelon season for myself.

What does this have to do with Myrtle the Turtle? Hang on, I’m getting to it.

I cut up the watermelon and put the rinds in a bag to carry out to the woods—hoping some critter would find it a tasty treat. And surprise, here’s what I saw…

 Can you see him in the lower left corner?


Here he is!
As soon as I spotted it, it reminded me of my younger years when we’d go to Uncle Harold and Aunt Mary’s farm. Once we got there, you’d let Ruthie roam wherever we wanted and off into the woods we’d go… seemed like we’d always find a turtle. Sometimes you’d let us take the turtle home.

Remember when we found a three-legged turtle that we named Myrtle the Turtle? And Myrtle the Turtle lived in our basement… that is until the day Myrtle was in the wrong spot—where Dad pulled the car in and….

I guess you cleaned up the mashed Myrtle before Ruthie and I got come from school. You never told us what really happened, but that Myrtle must have gotten away. We found out from Dad many, many years later that he ran over Mrytle. I never held it against Dad, after all, it was an accident. But as an immature kid, would I have seen it that way?

Do you think that was the right decision looking back? To protect children from knowing the truth—fearing it’d be too traumatic or that we would’ve resented Dad for not being more careful?

I did the same thing to my daughter, Rita. She was in Kindergarten when I broke the news that her black cat, Spaz ran away. In reality, I drove Spaz to the Humane Society. Trust me, I had a good reason why, and I didn’t feel Rita was mature enough to understand. I too, had protected her from seeing the truth about someone.

I wonder whether I would have acted differently if you had told us the truth about Myrtle?