June 29, 2001 ~ Letters home
Did I tell you that our older boy has sent several letters now? And miracle of miracles, he seems to be thriving? It used to be so hard to get him to talk; he's always been the strong, silent type. It was like pulling teeth, trying to get him to say anything. Conversations were awkward, to say the least. And tiring. He wanted human contact, he wanted to know how we were doing, he just didn't have much to say to us. Now he could go on and on when he talked to his brother, but to his parents... not much.
That has changed. I suspect he is lonely. He has sent long, detailed letters, in which he sounds like a GROWNUP. I can't help but smile. He loves Army food; can you believe that? I've always heard people complain about it, but he is LOVING IT, I tell you. He filled one page with descriptions of all the good things he's getting to eat. Anyway. So I've written him a couple of letters, his dad has written one, and I plan to write lots more. This is just so interesting... getting to see one's son in such a different light.
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So many of my friends have such serious problems right now, that I almost feel embarrassed to have gone on so much about the cat situation. So I'm going to try to be more positive and cheery and am going to try to shut up already, about that particular subject (we can hope, can't we?).
Today at the gas station a man offered to put my gas and diesel cans in the pickup for me. A stranger. What a nice thing to offer! I politely declined -- I already had the tailgate down, so I could slide the full (and heavy) cans into the bed of the truck. Once upon a time I was pretty strong; now I find ways to adapt. I filled the cans, then filled the truck, and Mr. Polite Stranger came over and picked up the cans anyway, saying "I'm sorry, Ma'am, but I'm going to have to insist," and put the cans in the truck for me. Smiled, got into his truck and drove away.
I was having a not-very-good-day. This man's kindness helped. It doesn't take much, sometimes, to make a difference.
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