My mother always said that to me. I do not know how many times that has popped into my head in my lifetime. When I was younger and sometimes thought of doing something that I knew was wrong, that would run through my mind. Try as I might, I could never make it work. I fell in with a girl who shoplifted. Sadly, her mother had taught her how. I thought that was sad, but here was a mother who explained that the stores had lots of money, lots of products and they would never miss just one, or two. I never asked my mother if this was right or wrong, but I did reason that if my right hand did not know what my left hand was doing that it was alright. And her mother was an adult and adults knew stuff.
Sadly, her father also made homebrew and stored it in the cellar with the door wide open. I think I was probably 16 at the time. It was after I had lived with my grandma so I did not feel as connected to my family as I probably should have. Grandma had died. Great Grandma had moved to Southwest Kansas with her daughter and I was just sort of cut adrift. So I was easy prey for someone who showed me a little attention. My friends father always went to Hutch to gamble on the weekends, so the cellar was free game for whatever we wanted to do, which was to get drunk. Get drunk and steal stuff. I probably spent a year or so in that rut before I decided that it was a dead end party.
Time passed and I married, became a mother, divorced, remarried, and divorced several more times. Some where along the years I decided to pull my head out of my ass and become a decent human being. I also became independent and learned to think for myself. Stealing was wrong. Drinking to oblivion was wrong. Lying was wrong. Hard work and honesty became a mantra that I was comfortable with and rather enjoyed. I had always known about God and was baptized when I was 12 years old. Looking back over my life I decided that I actually needed to wash all the sin away again. So I did.
Now, the secrets I keep are just between me and God and they are mostly good ones. I sometimes hand money to someone just because. My car is usually full of stuff to take to the migrant center. When I buy groceries I purchase extra for the food banks around town. I like to visit with the homeless. I would bring them home with me, but I am afraid my kids would commit me. I keep secrets from myself. I just think that "but for the grace of God, there goes me."
My life is good. My finances are fairly stable and I am mostly happy. Sometimes I wonder just where this will all end. Hopefully I can just not wake up some morning. I do not want to get old and senile. I do not want to have my diaper changed by one of my kids, but I guess what ever will be will be. You know, the "Que sera, sera" thing.
As I set here at my desk, I have a cat on my lap, a dog at my feet and a cup of cold coffee to sip from. Yep, life is good!
Sadly, her father also made homebrew and stored it in the cellar with the door wide open. I think I was probably 16 at the time. It was after I had lived with my grandma so I did not feel as connected to my family as I probably should have. Grandma had died. Great Grandma had moved to Southwest Kansas with her daughter and I was just sort of cut adrift. So I was easy prey for someone who showed me a little attention. My friends father always went to Hutch to gamble on the weekends, so the cellar was free game for whatever we wanted to do, which was to get drunk. Get drunk and steal stuff. I probably spent a year or so in that rut before I decided that it was a dead end party.
Time passed and I married, became a mother, divorced, remarried, and divorced several more times. Some where along the years I decided to pull my head out of my ass and become a decent human being. I also became independent and learned to think for myself. Stealing was wrong. Drinking to oblivion was wrong. Lying was wrong. Hard work and honesty became a mantra that I was comfortable with and rather enjoyed. I had always known about God and was baptized when I was 12 years old. Looking back over my life I decided that I actually needed to wash all the sin away again. So I did.
Now, the secrets I keep are just between me and God and they are mostly good ones. I sometimes hand money to someone just because. My car is usually full of stuff to take to the migrant center. When I buy groceries I purchase extra for the food banks around town. I like to visit with the homeless. I would bring them home with me, but I am afraid my kids would commit me. I keep secrets from myself. I just think that "but for the grace of God, there goes me."
My life is good. My finances are fairly stable and I am mostly happy. Sometimes I wonder just where this will all end. Hopefully I can just not wake up some morning. I do not want to get old and senile. I do not want to have my diaper changed by one of my kids, but I guess what ever will be will be. You know, the "Que sera, sera" thing.
As I set here at my desk, I have a cat on my lap, a dog at my feet and a cup of cold coffee to sip from. Yep, life is good!
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