Song of the day: La Belle Dame Sans Regrets - Sting

"Je pense, tu sais...Erreurs, jamais" - Sting

I got the memo. The emailed message faithfully arriving every year about this time, usually a few weeks later than this. Initiated by a former workmate, it is sent out to other former workmates who are either: still there; were once in our original core IT (Information Technology) group; or to those who have either retired, left the company, or have been laid off. (I was there for 26 years) It is an invitation for us to gather together once again, at a mutually agreed upon place, on a mutually agreed upon date and time; for lunch, fellowship, and remembering "old times". I smile. Immediately I already know what I will do. Back to this later...

(I can see...this is about to be a long one....)

This morning, in the car, on the way to school, "The Boy" and I listened intently to the morning radio host as he related a news item that featured a guy who was attempting to glamorize and bring respectability to the toilet market. Yes, you heard me right. Toilets. The Japanese, especially, appear to be taking the lead in this relief effort. Interesting news, indeed. However, more interesting than this is the fact that "The Boy" casually says to me, "Hey Mom, I know a lot about toilets, let me name some for you". I humor him, and invite him to tell me all that he knows about them. He then proceeds to "rattle off" the names of every brand of toilet conceivable. I look back at him via my rear view mirror in amazement. So this is why he is having such a difficult time with his lessons! His head is too full of...well, you know.

I drop him off at school, come back and do what I normally do during the day. Mom calls. She is taking Dad to the doctor later on today. He is a trooper, and putting up a valiant fight, but the cancer is putting up an even more agressive one. I hate cancer. I do not want to write about this anymore today...really.

I sneak in a nap a little later on, so that I can be refreshed and ready for work in the evening. As I am dozing off, I have the television on (bad idea). Tyler Perry's movie: "Madea's Family Reunion" is on. I find myself laughing out loud, when I am supposed to be sleeping. This is serious. No more TV. I turn it off. Hallelujer! (No, this is not a mis-type)

"Je cherche en vain les mots
Pour m'expliquer ta vie"

It is now close to 2:00pm. I pick up "The Boy" from school. We do homework, and I try to get the downstairs looking nice and welcoming, before his Dad gets home. The garbage is beginning to smell "stinky" and needs to be taken out immediately The smell is coming from the raw chicken package that I forgot to throw out yesterday. Peeeyew! I also fix something for them both to eat. "The Boy" tells me that he needs to hurry up and finish his homework before Dad comes home from work, and starts "acting all crazy." On the inside, this almost makes me 'pass out' with laughter. However, on the outside, I manage to maintain my "Mom-ness" and refrain from showing so much as even a suggestion of a smile. This is difficult to do. This child is funny. I tell him, that if he wished to "Live Long and Prosper", finishing his homework before his father comes home, would be a very wise thing for him to do. This is his problem; not mine. In the meantime, it begins to rain. The sun is shining brightly in the western direction. This means that there is a rainbow somewhere. For some crazy reason I run to look out of the window in the direction of where one would usually be. I see none, but I know that one is out there somewhere. That's enough for me right now.

Later on, my husband comes home. He asks me about a few shirts that he had bought. I give him my immediate impression. "The dark ones will need to go back", I say. As he continues to try to make a case for keeping the dark ones, I look at him; and without blinking, remain firm. I stick by what my original impression was. The lighter ones are more professional. He stares at them a while longer, then reluctantly agrees. By now, he should know that he shouldn't ask an opinion of me, if he doesn't want to hear the truth. He knows that I am right, and so exchanges them for lighter shirts of the same style. There were none left at the store the other day. Today, he was able to find more. This is what I am learning to do... stick unwaveringly by my first instinct or impression. This time, it was a shirt; next time?...who knows... Every day, I am becoming more and more of a "Steel Magnolia". Those who know me well, will understand the huge significance of the term, as it applies to me.

And now, back to the email...

"Je pense, tu sais
Erreurs, jamais"

I will have to decline the invitation. It's not that I don't like the people. In fact, as I glance again at the cc'd list of invitees, I realize that I am quite fond of most of them. Some might even call this a possible networking opportunity. In this particular instance, I do not. On an individual basis, I wouldn't mind having a lunch here or there. But this grouping represents many of the things that I have failed to leave behind me over the last three years. This is an absolute test from the Universe. Oh Snap! Now The Universe is trying to play Gameshow Host with me! "Do you really want to go back there?", it asks me. The answer would be a resounding, "No!" I choose: "Door Number Three, thank you...and that's my Final Answer!" I have come too far. Gimme my prize. This journey has been long and arduous, and has cost me more than anyone could ever imagine; but I will gladly pay the toll on any highway leading me to the ultimate destination of emotional freedom.

"J'ecoute, tu parles
Je ne comprends pas bien"

To use a gross analogy...If I attended the luncheon, it would be similar to "picking a scab", just as an injury has almost gotten to its healing point. If you leave the scab, it will drop off on its own. If you pick at it; the rawness is renewed, and the healing process starts all over again. I am almost healed. I hope those of you who read this, and who will be attending will understand. My best wishes go out to you.

Yes, I got the memo. It comes every year about this time. The invitation for us to gather together once again, at a mutually agreed upon place, on a mutually agreed upon date and time; for lunch, fellowship, and remembering "old times". I smile whenever I think of you. This year, I have decided not to offer any flimsy excuses; and so now, you know why I must send my regrets(?). Thank you for inviting me. Although I leave it all behind me, please know this: The memories of your faces are always in front of me. I miss you too.

I am not burning a bridge; just learning to fly....

"La... Dame sans regrets"



Geoffrey, did I do this right? I'm not presumptuous enough to use "Belle", so it's "..." instead - ;-) - Nards