I spent this weekend in my home town. I spent time with my parents and dearest friends from high school. We caught up on all the good stuff (new houses, surgeries, life changes, bangs instead of botox). There’s something about connecting with people who knew you at age 16 that sends you back in time a little bit. It’s easier to remember who you were, where you started, the things you used to dream about. It’s nice to remember. It’s even nicer to see their freakishly non-aging faces and get some good hugs.
Then I proceeded to drive back home on Sunday and an older gentlemen in overalls approached me at a gas station and said, “Girl, you got duct tape all over your bumper.”
This is a true fact. Last summer I pulled up over one of those concrete thingies (that’s the technical term for sure), accidentally hooked my bumper over the top of it, backed up and popped it off on the sides. My dad helped me duct tape it back in place for my drive home, with the plan that I would get it fixed.
And, er, I’ve never gotten around to it. The duct tape is still working fine, and lest anyone accuse me of being a redneck, I’m here to tell you that it’s white duct tape and matches my car. THAT MAKES IT CLASSY.
“Yes sir, I do,” I said.
He eyeballed it for a moment, spit a giant hunk of chewing tobacco on the ground and said, “You done good.”
Before I could tell him it was really my dad’s excellent duct taping skills that “done good,” he sauntered back toward his olive green 1970’s pick up truck.
But I think that short conversation is pretty much a metaphor for my life.
In the past year everything came apart. Marriage. Dreams. Expectations. I did my best to tape it back together and mend the seams. And then I just got back on the road. The duct tape held together just fine. It might not be the prettiest. It certainly doesn’t meet with everyone’s approval. But, it works.
I’m thankful. I’m thankful for my beautiful daughter. I’m thankful to have the love and support of a good man. I’m thankful to take pictures again. I’m thankful for the joy, and the hope. I’m even thankful for little old men who pay you a compliment with a mouth full of skoal.
And in case anyone else needs to hear it too, you’ve done well.
Whatever floats your grammatical boat..