The beauty of a soap opera…
When I was a kid and home sick from school, raw throat on fire, so sore it hurt to swallow, my mom would paint my throat with merthiolate (which turns out is totally toxic) little did I know then when I threw a giant chicken fit as she was coming at me it was for a dang good reason!
Along with the shot of pink poison she would also make me delicious hot tea. Not just any kind of tea, always the same each and every time. Orange pekoe tea and it had to be Tetley brand with a splash of milk and a little sugar. I remember laying on our hideous yellow flowered couch curled up in my parents green down comforter listening for the music that was always a treat when I got to stay home from school, no matter how sick I was….”Like sands through the hourglass these are the DAYS OF OUR LIVES….” (and I didn’t even have to look that up.)
I could go months, even years in between episodes and it always amazed me that I knew just what was going on from the last time I watched it, not much seemed to change. Not long after my Dad went into the nursing home, I was flipping through the stations on his television set which sat on a small wooden table at the end of his bed and I still remember him wincing as if in unbearable pain when the lead villain character Stefano DiMera came on the screen “Oh, NO not THAT guy again, is he still on that program?” he blurted out…. my mother had subjected that poor man to one too many years of life in Salem. (How and WHY do I still remember these details!)
This post is not really about soap operas or pink merthiolate poisoning, but it’s about the time that slips through that hourglass, it’s about waking up this morning and being shocked that I am 42 years old. How did that happen? The days slip by me unnoticed most of the time, but when I look up it is like another piece of my life’s puzzle has been locked into place.
Today I am aware, and in the midst of this very hectic time for me (only two weeks left of the madness) I am taking the time to notice and bask in every moment of this day. I have been up early watching the dogs play in the sunshine fixated on Tristan and the happiness that seeps from him simply for getting to be a dog that is loved. I made a very healthy breakfast concocted with ingredients given to me by loving friends, and I will get on my bike this morning for a good long ride before going to work this afternoon. It has been a good week, and on this Sunday morning as I finish my cup of tetly tea I am grateful for the comforting memories of the past… even if they include pink poison, and cheesy soap operas!