See You Later!

          "Let's go for a ride," I said early in the week.

          "Where to?" Mike asked.

          "Momma wants a church calendar and a bulletin. We could run out to the church office in Mildred and pick it up for her." Mike didn't say anything. I went on. "We could stop at Second Hand Rose while we're out that way." That's a second-hand store.

          "Why the whole way to Mildred? Can't you get 'em in Dushore?"

          Mildred is a small town about four miles from Dushore, so it's not really a big deal. "I called the office. They don't leave the church open and the office moved to Mildred."

          "You could ask Donna to get them for you," Mike suggested.

          "I hate to do that." Donna is the wife of Vernon, one of Mike's cronies, and goes to the same church Momma went to. I've only met her a few times. Even though she'd probably do it for me, I hated to impose. Besides, I had another reason. "Come on. We haven't been out of the house in over a week and I could take pictures. I don't have anything to write about this week."

          Famous last words, right?

          So we went. I got the church calendar and bulletin and I bought a couple of DVD's at Second Hand Rose. I got road pictures too.

          This barn used to house horses, now there's only wagons parked inside.

          Marla's House. It's not really her house, but she has a print of it hanging on her wall so I think of it as Marla's House.

          On the way back through Dushore, we stopped at the Agway store for a one-hundred-pound bag of corn — to feed the deer this winter. See the puppy on the end of the dock? I spent a little time loving on her while the clerk got the corn for us.

          You're welcome J.D.

          J.D., one of the three people who get a printed letter, pointed out that often times when I ask if you can see something in a picture, he can't. The printed pictures aren't nearly as clear as the electronic ones are.

          More road pictures.

          We stopped by Ambrosius Auto Parts to visit with Aaron and Tracy for a few minutes.

            I love the big woodman adorning the outside of the business. "My dad made that," Tracy told me.

          It's so clever. I had Mike stand next to it so you could see his size.

           On a recent trip to the mailbox, I saw leaves frozen in the ice and I snapped a few pictures. 

            It reminded me of a photo contest I'd entered once. Do you know what took Best of Show?

          "Uh, a leaf frozen in a water puddle?" you guess.

          That's right! A stupid leaf frozen in a stupid water puddle!

          And this beautiful photograph I took and submitted only got third place! But I'm not bitter!

          I was feeling perfectly indignant as I walked back up to the house with the mail. That's when I saw this and took its picture.

          Take that! I thought. That's what I think of your stupid leaf in the stupid frozen water picture!

          "What is it, Peg?" you ask.

          POOP! Poop frozen in a water puddle!

          I ended up with an empty box this past week and I thought to make a play box for the boys. I taped the box up, cut a hole in the side thinking one of the cats could climb inside, then I cut little windows in each of the sides and the top for them to stick their paws through.

          LOL.

 I grossly underestimated the size of our cats. Smudge could only get his head inside.

           Here's something I don't see very often. A squirrel at my bird feeders. You'd think that living out here in the middle of nowhere that I'd have all kinds of squirrels, but I don't.

          And this cheeky little guy! He flew right up under the awning and landed on the stump.

          "He's going after the cat food," I told Mike.

          And he did. He got right up to it before something spooked him.

          It hasn't taken the deer very long to zero in on the bit of corn that Mike's tossing out for them every day. Or the birds either, for that matter. The jays will help themselves to the corn if they find it before the deer do and it makes Mike mad when they get it all.

          We enjoy watching the deer come up into the yard and have had as many as seven at one time.

          We're learning a bit about feeding the deer too. You shouldn't put out so much food that you get a big number of deer because then it's easier to spread disease. Plus they will get dependant on it and not forage for themselves anymore. So don't stop feeding them suddenly once you've started. Wean them off it.

          The article also said you shouldn't feed them just corn because they have delicate digestive tracts.

          "I'm not giving them that much," Mike says.

          Our neighbor Vernon dropped off a feeding block for us to give to the deer and in this picture, they're working on it.

          I was shocked when this doe hauled off and smacked one of the other deer.

           I didn't know they fought over food like that. A few minutes later she goes after another one.

           Speaking of deer...

          We were on our way to breakfast Thursday morning and stopped at a light when this SUV goes past and I can see there's something on the back. "Mike, what's on the back of that SUV?"

          "Where?

          "Going right up there?" I said and pointed. Unfortunately, I waited too long to ask and Mike couldn't see it. It was then that I remembered I could zoom in with my camera and take a picture. "I think it's a deer."

          The light changed and we were on our way. The SUV pulled into the gas station and I was able to snap a couple more pictures as we drove past.

          "Two of them," Mike says. 

           Then we were past and I fired off another shot. I got the pole in the shot but I also got deer butts.

          "No! There's three on there!"

          I was thinking it was a bunch of guys out hunting together and three of them got their bucks.

          Then I download the pictures and found out the SUV belongs to the Conservation Officer.

          "Why would the conservation guys do this?" I asked Jon Robinson. I think he knows a lot about hunting and hunting laws and conservation and all that jazz. "Donation or confiscation?"

          "Yeah," Jon replied when he texted me back. "People are dumb."

          I know that some people like to hunt but don't want the meat so they donate it. I also know that some people hunt illegally too. So I still don't know what's going on in this picture.

          I talk to my mother every day. For more than 15 years I've called her every day. I'll call her even if I don't have any news. Those can be short I love you calls.
          "I'm planning on getting your goodie box in the mail next week," I told Momma during our Tuesday chat. "I've got your rosaries made," I ticked off the things she asked for. "I got the calendar from the bank that you wanted. Rosie already made your banana bread and I've got the cinnamon bread done. They're in the freezer. This week we'll get the church calendar and I'll make your pumpkin roll and a nice big batch of those sugar cookies you like."

          Momma laughed. I loved to hear her laugh. "All right!" 

          "And I'm hoping to have your calendar finished by then too."

          "No hurry on that," she told me.

          Wednesday I got a text from my big sister Patti. "Mom's sleeping; let's skip your call today."

          And even though I said I talk to her every day, there have been occasional days that I've missed and this was one of those. But for all intents and purposes, it has been every day.

          Patti didn't say anything was wrong but I started thinking that this might it. I started to prepare myself for losing Momma. We've all known, all of us kids, we've all known for years that the end could come anytime and we've had several close calls over the last couple of years, but by the grace of God, and Patti's good care, Momma always pulled through.

          I thanked God for this lady right here. This is Trish. We were like two burs in a wool blanket for many years. She was my best friend and loved me even when I was unlovable.

          We lived in Indiana at the time and my dad lived with us for about seven years. When we moved out of the city and into the country, Pop moved back to Pennsylvania and Trish and I lost contact. Pop died in 1995 and we made the trip for his funeral. Momma and I helped to clean up his things and it was then that I found letters from Trish. She'd been writing letters to my dad. I bet he loved that, I thought. And was angry at myself. I was his daughter; I should have written him letters!

          And that's a regret I'll always have to live with.

          A few years later, in 1998, I started writing a weekly letter to my mother. I wanted her to open her mailbox and find something besides bills or solicitations for money. I wanted her to know that I loved her. From there it's blossomed into what it is today, but ultimately, Trish was the reason why I started.

          I should find Trish and thank her, and I searched FaceBook. It's not the first time I've searched for her and I didn't really think I'd find her. I've looked several times over the years and despite going through pages and pages of women with the same name as her, I never found her. This time when I looked, she was like the third person on the page. I found her right away! I sent her a message and we've been catching up ever since.

          The next day, Thursday, I texted Patti to see if I should make my daily call.

          "No, she's sleeping."

          From there, it progressed to where Momma wouldn't wake up, and in the early hours of Friday morning, Momma slipped quietly away.

          Sigh.

          I am thankful though. Momma knew she was going to die just like the rest of us know we're going to die. I would speak of it to her sometimes, over the years, asking what she wished.

          "When I die I just want to go to sleep and not wake up," she told me once. I can still see her telling me this. She wiggled her finger in front of her like she was sprinkling magic dust from her fingertips, then they flew off into the air.

          My girls, my Moxie ladies and I have prayed that for her. We prayed that God, who loves us and only wants the best for us, would grant Momma her wish. And you know what? He did. He really did. He allowed Momma to die the way that she wanted to die and I am thankful. God is good, all the time! All the time, God is good!

          I'm old. I'm closer to 60 than I've ever been in my whole life. And I'm going to miss my mother like crazy. I still turned to her with questions and a lot of times she knew the answers. She was a wealth of wisdom and practical knowledge. And now my days will be more lonesome without my daily calls to Momma and the bi-monthly goody boxes I'd made for her.  

          I really have no idea how Patti will cope. She's taken such good care of Momma for the last 3 1/2 years. She's devoted her life to that end, to making Momma happy and keeping her comfortable and now she's got a big hole in her life to fill. Mine is nothing compared to what she must be going through. I'm eternally grateful and thankful to Patti for taking such excellent care of our mother. And she did it so graciously, with kindness, respect, and love.

          "Well, she took care of all of us," Patti told me when I thanked her. "It's the least I can do for her. And I really don't mind doing it either."

          And my alarm still goes off when it's time to make my daily call to Momma.

          "Are you going to shut it off?" Mike asked me.

          "No. Not right now. I think that when the alarm goes off, I'll just take that moment to remember Momma and say a little prayer for her."

          In my daily I love you email to my sister Phyllis, I told her this: "You do realize that since Momma and her siblings are all gone, and Dad and all of his siblings are gone that that makes us the old generation?"

          "That is just so sad to contemplate," she said.

          And we creep closer to death.

          In my free time, I'd been working on coloring Momma's calendar for her. I really, really wanted her to have this back so she could enjoy the bright beautiful pages in the new year, so I'd enlisted the aid of the very talented Rosie Kipp and her daughter Jenn. They got eight of the months colored for Momma. I'd actually been working on October when Momma left us. I guess now I don't have to finish it, do I?

          "Now that your mother's gone, will you keep writing?" you ask.

          You know she's the one I started writing for. You know I've thought about calling it quits when she dies. But after 20 years, writing has become so much a part of me that I don't think I can ever stop. I'll keep writing as long as there's even one person out there who wants to read my jibber-jabber.

          This isn't good-bye Momma. This is see you later! When my time comes, I'll see you on the other side! There's hope in Jesus.

          Let's call this one done.