We were driving to Kokomo the other day and I saw something I'd wondered about for a long, long time. It took me 15 minutes to forget what it was.
I wonder why I don't write things down.
In the 1960s, when I was in school, the primary concern of many people (for girls) was their virtue. I mean, it was an enlightened age, so they were okay with us getting an education and all, but, you know...virtue. So I wonder why we had to wear dresses to school. Dresses were pretty, but I can't think they added to anyone's moral character.
I wonder why lying's awful when you're the one being lied to, but not so bad if you're the one doing the lying or if the person you voted for is the one doing it.
We live near a corner, close enough to see the stop sign at the crossroad. Some people stop, look, and go on, regardless of time of day. Many, many people roll the sign. Many others ignore it altogether--once again regardless of time of day. I always wonder if drivers who blow stop signs are the same ones who don't use turn signals.
|Photo by Regine Brindle|
I love cemeteries, especially the small old ones that rest fenced and quiet in fields or in churchyards. They are so quiet and so small that sometimes I won't notice one for years and years even though I might drive past it on a weekly basis. When I do notice, I pray sometimes, that the souls of those buried there have peace. Mostly, though, I wonder who they were. Who they loved. Who mourned their deaths and celebrated their lives.
Why do people vandalize? Even as a kid, I didn't get it. (Beyond soaping windows or on one auspicious occasion helping to steal a watermelon from a patch. It was neither sweet nor ripe enough. Served us right.) Vandalizing, though, doing real damage, is done with the purpose of doing harm to someone else. I wonder why you'd want to do that.
Bread is hardly ever on the last aisle in the grocery store, where you could put it on top of the cart and not get it smooshed. Shoppers don't get bonuses for checking themselves out. Meat never looks as good in the store as it does on the sale flyer. It always rains when I am parked in the back 40 at Kroger and don't have an umbrella. I wonder what causes those things.
"Limited access" is only limiting to people who live near the point of contention. That seems backwards to me. I wonder why they do that.
Do you have anything you wonder about? Not that I have any answers. Just...you know...wondering.
Have a great week. Be nice to somebody.
An old favorite re-released with a new cover. If you'd like a signed copy, PM me or email me at lizkflaherty @ gmail .com (no spaces). Otherwise, order links are below. Thank you for reading.
Early McGrath doesn't want freedom from her thirty-year marriage to Nash, but when it's forced upon her, she does the only thing she knows to do - she goes home to the Ridge to reinvent herself.
Only what is someone who's spent her life taking care of other people supposed to do when no one needs her anymore? Even as the threads of her life unravel, she finds new ones - reconnecting with the church of her childhood, building the quilt shop that has been a long-time dream, and forging a new friendship with her former husband.