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Sunday, August 28, 2005
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In the interest of interesting my readers, I speak of subjects which you all are familiar with. Truly, no one is unfamiliar with the subject of my post. You would have to be quite young indeed not to have experienced a Sunday.
I used to really dislike Sunday. Sometimes I do still. But generally, I make it through. I have not had a Sunday yet that I have not made it through. Therefore, I can safely assume that Sundays are not fatal. That's logic, as my brother would say.
This particular Sunday was particularly rollercoastery. First thing in the morning, I got out of bed to put a roast in the crockpot for dinner. Trudging unwillingly down the stairs, I heard the soft familiar clicking of a computer keyboard, such as I am hearing now, letting me know that I was not the first riser on this sunny morning. Rounding the corner at the bottom of the stairs, I spied my mom sitting in the spinney chair in front of a glowing monitor. She had already put the roast in. She always does that. No matter when I make a roast, she always is the one that sticks it in the crockpot. Oh well. Back upstairs I went with a cup of very sugary tea. (Early morning, you know, is the best time of day to enjoy a hot cup of unnaturally sweet tea.)
At church in the morning, I found to my... hmm... pleasure? or chagrin?... can't decide, that there was no piano player. At least, not the usual one. Agustie, being apprised of the dilemma, volunteered for the position. Derek opted for the organ and James hit the violin. I was on the flute, obviously, since I murder the piano on everything but classical songs. So there we were.
The four of us. In the front row. Waiting nervously for special music to come up during the course of the service.
As Cara and I sang together, (we were first on a list of three specials) I noticed her hands starting to tremble. Now, I know this doesn't mean she's nervous. We've done this too often for her to still be nervous. It meant that she needed something in her hand to grip. I've had that feeling a lot, amazingly while I am singing. So, seeing that we both had a need to grip something, we held hands and had a veritable contest during the song as to who could squeeze the hardest while trying to encourage her fellow duetist.
James has been roping John and Cara into handbell practices lately and today was their big performance. They did a great job. The song, Our Great Saviour, was immediately recognizable, which is always the first concern when playing a song. (For me anyway. If you can't even recognize a song, well, I could always fake it and pretend it was supposed to sound that way.) But they did great. Everyone was blessed and impressed.
A long anticipated event, Derek and James performed the last song, comprising the last of the specials. It was a song of James's and Derek's own arrangement. They've been playing with Finale again. Practiced for a long time. It was When I Can Read My Title Clear.
The sermon for this morning constitutes its own post, so I'll have to let you in on that one later.
Unwilling to part with my Cara, we stood outside for a good while talking. We all knew that we were staying because we didn't want to say goodbye, but knowing that, we didn't bring it up. Derek, however...
I did say goodbye. Without crying. Amid many promises of phone calls, email addresses, and snail mail letters. She signed my photo frame, which she had given me Saturday. It has a black and white photo of her and I last October when I turned twenty-one. She'd had a special tea party set up just for the two of us at her house. We both wrote our names on the black frame in white gel-ink. It's so cool.
Derek came for dinner. We got home and I started the veggies cooking. It didn't take long before we were all around the dinner table making each other laugh. Daddy tells corny, histerical, jokes. I cannot for the life of me remember them all. (Just that bluejay one, right Mom?)
Phase 10, headgear, impromtu concerts and popcorn made up the afternoon. After D went home, we popped in the third P&P movie. Water ice, lace crochet, hot tea, a blog post and I'm ready for bed. |
posted by cori
8/28/2005 09:39:00 PM
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Well, I got through yesterday without crying, but that didn't last today after reading your post. I was struck with the significance of this goodbye. This is no "I'll see you next week" or even "I'll see you next month" goodbye. It is an "I don't know when I'll see you again" goodbye. I hate goodbyes.
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Cara I shall honour myself by quoting you in the title of my next post.
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| Sounds like some kind of sports thing, but in reality, the ShugaBowl is just a little hideaway for me, Sugarcube herself, to let loose my thoughts and occasional creativeness. |
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Well, I got through yesterday without crying, but that didn't last today after reading your post. I was struck with the significance of this goodbye. This is no "I'll see you next week" or even "I'll see you next month" goodbye. It is an "I don't know when I'll see you again" goodbye. I hate goodbyes.