By Linda Shaffer
Just above my computer screen I see a fern growing happily between two corner windows. This is no ordinary fern. Family legend has it that this one came from my great grandmother Robinson. It is a unique and frail green plant which has managed to survive all these years. No one has ever identified it for me. I know my great grandma lived near the coast and in the woods. I believe she found this one day on a walk and kept it growing. Her daughter, my grandmother, inherited the plant and it flourished. My mother got a start from this plant and kept it going. I brought it home because it’s my turn. I believe this plant is more than one hundred years old. It is a love thing.
Each morning, I am awakened by a cat walking up the middle of my body. Because I have to sleep on my back, he can do this as often as he wants to and he does. He also head butts me, yowls and kneads my arm. Eventually, I give up and get up. I give him food and water. I give myself coffee and water. I sit in my chair and put his blanket on my lap so he can jump on me and make a nest. It’s the same cat who sometimes bites me while he purrs. The cat who sheds like there were twelve of him and uses litter as a political statement. The cat who has certain ways things must be done. A window opened to the screen, a garage made available for silent hunting. It’s not easy being an old indoor cat. Some days, it’s not easy being his roomie. This is a BIG love thing.
I grew up moving a lot. I went to 22 schools by the time I graduated from high school a year early. My mother was a dedicated Navy wife. She moved with my dad as often as was needed and made a home within days. She was extraordinary. She held down the fort and took care of my brother and I as we grew up. My father loved adventure and found it in Antarctica, Viet Nam, the Arctic and everywhere he went with the USN Seabees. On one tour of duty to Antarctica, he was gone for 13 months. I forgot what he was like because I was young and didn’t know him very well. He died at the age of 43 years. What I learned from my parents during those years we were together was that love was a powerful thing. Their love was remarkable.
I am a student of love. I’ve had great teachers. My grandparents Garriott were the masters. They quietly went about their lives making children and memories. There was never any question about love. You could feel it. She never cooked a rare piece of meat. He never sat at a table without white bread and margarine. There was a bond between them. They made eight children together. That’s love.
Many years ago, I began using the letters xoxo as a sign off on memos and written notes. I meant it. I still do. To me, these four letters mean that I care and am sending love to you in whatever way you need it. If that sounds wrong, think it over. Caring and love change with the ways in which they are needed. All I’m trying to do is be there at the right time. I do remember that someone gave me a rubber stamp with those initials when I was working. I laughed enough to fill a bucket. At that moment, I felt loved.
I have been accused of loving too much. That is very possible. I have been married at least three times. There was one do-over but let’s not go there. My first marriage was to the father of my two daughters. He was a wonderful man and I was a kid. Love is crazy that way. Lucky me. I have the best kids ever. Wedding number two is best forgotten. The heart of the matter came when I met Mr. S right here in Tillamook County. This, my friends, was real love. After meeting him on my first day of work, I was determined to love him forever, which I did.
I also love kids, plants, animals, happy people, grandkids, great grandkids, house plants, sunshine, rain, the beach…never mind. You get what I’m trying to say. It’s a love thing.
Whether you know it or not, each day you do something for love. My fear is that you do not give yourself credit for this. I want you to start paying attention to the loves in your life. Now, give yourself a hug. Xoxo
Have a great week my friends.
