Why it’s good to get out of bed

This is what it looks like to stare over the edge of your bed at the mohair metallic yarn on the floor. It has been hard to get going on this project because a week after my grandma died, my grandpa died, too. We’ll call it true love. I mean, he only lasted a week without her. That is some serious girl power after 67 years of marriage.

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Considering knitting my iPhone and laptop cords into this piece for extra bulk. 

This is what it looks like to see the red-wine stain on the slats of the bed frame from the time (before you quit drinking) you made a huge fucking mess. A bedside glass of wine seemed like such a classy idea. If this isn’t enough to get a person out of bed, I don’t know what is. Also a good reminder that drinking does not make life easier.

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You can quit drinking, but the red-wine stains are there to keep you from glamorizing the memory.

This is what your grandmother’s belongings look like on the piece of furniture you got when they had to move into a nursing home. Getting out of bed is worth it to remember this is in your hallway. Cool purses, right? And I found that photo of my brother and I in a drawer when we moved them out of their house. Don’t zoom in. It’s as bad as it looks: a wedding in the 80’s with brown suits and copper bridesmaid dresses.

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I can only hope someone finds and covets my belongings once I hit the nursing home. 

This is the photo you find when you actually leave your house to help your mom make photo boards for your grandparents’ funeral. My Papa Conlin only wore that toupee a few times so I’m honored he donned it at my 4th birthday party in Dearborn, Mich.

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From left: Uncle Don (double fisting), Papa U., Grandma Conlin (smoking), Papa Conlin (rocking the toupee AND smoking) This was in 1975, before our neighbors built the fence to keep their dogs Foxy and Boagie from tearing us kids to shreds. 

There’s a moral to this story: It’s good to open your eyes to see what’s on the floor next to the bed. It’s good to find a reason to get out of bed. It’s good to leave the house to find what’s out there.

A clever writer might try to tie this back to knitting. My kitten is kneading on the metallic mohair so I guess I’m done for the night.

One comment

  1. EPT · February 27, 2016

    Beautiful. My father’s parents died 12 days apart. They’d been divorced 40 and I remember marveling at the love. You’ve captured it. Thanks.


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