Butt Wrinkles

The thought of a wrinkly butt made me smile and makes me want to look at my own to see if my butt has wrinkles. It doesn’t really matter all that much because I doubt if I could iron them out anyway. Like much of my life there is only so much I can actually do about certain things, politics for one. Relationships can get kind of wrinkly thru time, I have a lot of friends I have known for more than 5 decades, we bonded over music and mudpies and stayed friends forever even though I did not live in this hemisphere all of my life, when I did return to California we jumped back into friendship at the first phone call. I like that. Catching up, rediscovering one another, finding out what each has been doing for the last 20 years.

The facts of life are if we do not keep up with one another we are likely to fall out and become lost to each other. And that makes me sad. I love my friends, I have lost some dear friends and will probably lose more. Family members have also left this existence and I miss them everyday.

Mom was my heart and soul, I remember as a child tracing  the curves of her face with my tiny, little finger and playing with her pretty, diamond studded wedding ring on her left hand, the one I never take off now.  Her ring has 5 tiny diamonds in it, the same number of children she had and raised, who are her true  diamonds.

My Dad passed away too young also, and when he was found we all flew to California to honor his life of sacrifice for all of us. When my younger brother died suddenly at just 51 years old,  while fishing for sturgeon,  I experienced the gut wrenching loss of my baby brother dying far too early, I took care of his little girl for two years every Sunday after Jack died.

But it was losing Steve that just about did me in, I had just texted him and 15 minutes later he was gone, literally in the  blink of the eye, gone from a heretofore unbeknownst heart attack that took him so quick it sent my head swirling into a depression I had not known the depths of before or since.  My Steve. Gone.  How could it be?  He was so happy, he was so fun, he was my sweetest friend.

The butt wrinkles of this life are sometimes much too hard to fathom. They are beyond human understanding, beyond my limited comprehension.

Beyond the beyonds.

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Steve and I at the first Sober Fest.

 

 

 

 

 

 

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Author: Jillymaui - My Van Life Adventures

A hopeful solo RVan life traveling gal, enjoy the last decades of my life, I love wildlife, genealogy, SF Giants baseball, swimming, painting, guitar playing, singing, sightseeing, and writing in my Tiny Tiki Hale.

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