Thursday, March 2, 2017

It Was The Best Of Times

Where it all started...

2545 Bayard Street. My parents would love how our childhood home has been restored. Massey and I attended the open house when it went up for sale this past spring.

Our father bought it the year I was born (1960) for $15,000. This past spring (2016) was up for sale with an asking price of $250,000.

Trust me, it was worth a million dollars to every single person who ever walked through the door when my parents owned it. It was a house filled with love and laughter.

There was always a glass of iced tea to drink and  dinner on the table every night at six.

My mother's sewing machine was always out and used more often than not.

As insane as it sounds (these days) my parents were always happy with each other and never once heard them argue the entire time we all lived in that house.

Sometimes, especially these past few years have often wondered how and why I made it through the debacle which is my life?

When I think back to Bayard Street and think about the two people in the above photo, know absolutely how and why.

It's because of them and the way they loved and raised me and both my Sib's.

We weren't raised with lots of money but instead were raised with more love than any person deserves.

We were middle of the road and middle class but as far as love and laughter goes, were constantly in the fast lane and the upper echelons of happiness.

That's how and why I made it through.

I was lucky enough to be raised and loved by Frank and Ann Leach.

We lost Mama suddenly, in under a minute in 1977 and then Diddy in 2002 in ten days.

God took them both from us because they needed to be together again and wanted to watch over us together.

They knew they done good (as we say in the south) and knew would love and rely on each other.

And we did.

And have.

And still do.

I can't say enough positive things about my two older siblings. Both outshine me ten fold and then some. They have taken care of not only me but my own as well.

I used to think of myself as the black sheep and maybe was, during my reckless twenties... but still loved me anyway.

Now at the tender age of almost fifty seven sometimes feeling almost seventy seven some days know...

I've done okay.

It took me a minute or maybe a couple of decades, but I got this now.

I've made it this far because I am loved.

I am loved because I have turned out to be a pretty decent person.

I'm a decent person because I was raised to be one.

Webster's defines 'Decent' as: "Morally upright; respectable."

I'll proudly take that definition.

I like being the odd one, especially with my excellent back up support system.

Yes the past few years almost felt like they killed me...but didn't.

You can't keep a good woman down and (lucky for me) momma knew how to raise one.

We live outside the touch of acurate and spot on  way to describe us.

Hope my own three kids feel that way too as they grow older together.

Sounds corny but oh so true.

Love is all you need.

All you need is love

Til next time...COTTON

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