by Kathy Brasby | Jul 15, 2014 | Stories
It’s taken an amazing amount of time for me to realize that my sister is my twin.
There are eight years and two brothers between us – which explains why this took me so long to figure out.
I overlooked the more obvious: we’re the same height and our eyes are the same color.
And the fact that we both like to be unique and unusual could be explained away for a time.
The most glaring piece of evidence to this point had been our frustrating tendency to order the same food at a restaurant.
We do not like this.
We want something unusual so, when we both study the menu and come up with the same selection, we glare at the other. This even happens when each tries to avoid what we’re sure the other will order.
But the final straw came last week when a text message alert blew on my cell phone.
Among my choices for a text message alert sound is one entitled Sherwood, which is supposed to sound like a horn blown in the forest.
You know, Robin Hood and all that.
It’s not the most obvious of choices for texts, which was why I chose it.
But when I checked my phone, I didn’t have a text message. I was busy so just stowed the phone and went on.
Oh, I forgot to mention that my sister was with me.
We were both busy.
And then Sherwood announced that I had a text message again. I checked and I did have one this time.
My sister narrowed her eyes. “That was your text message tone?”
“Yes.”
“The same one I picked?”
Well, that explained the earlier Sherwood tone I had heard and ignored. It was on her phone.
I stared at her and it finally came together. We were twins.
How else could you explain this?
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by Kathy Brasby | Jul 11, 2014 | Seasons
Myrtle’s eyes lit up when she saw me standing outside the door to her room at the nursing home.
“Are you here to visit me?” she asked, a smile sloped across her face.
I really wasn’t but the door to my mother’s room was closed and I was waiting. So why not?
“I can visit with you,” I said and stepped into her room. “I’m waiting for my mother.”
“Who is your mother?”
I pointed to the wall and told her my mother’s name. “She’s your neighbor.”
“Oh.” Myrtle drew out the word as she considered my information. “That’s nice.”
Her eyes told a different story: she didn’t remember my mother.
No big deal. I asked Myrtle about her hometown. About her family.
Her face lit up. She had three sons living about a half hour away. “They are so busy,” she said. “They come to see me on Saturdays. And I get to see my—“ She stopped, considering information. “I can’t remember if she’s my granddaughter or what.”
I thought I could help. “How old is she?”
“Eighteen months.”
“Probably your great-granddaughter then.”
Myrtle nodded. “She visits me sometimes. I love to see her.” She shifted her weight in her wheelchair. “My husband was here when he had Alzheimer’s. I took care of him as long as I could.”
“You are very loving,” I told her. “I see you smiling at everyone here. I see you talking to people at the table at mealtime. You are very kind. You still have purpose, you know. To love people.”
Her eyes teared up. “Oh,” she said, putting her hand to her mouth. “Oh. Thank you. I needed to hear that.”
“I’m glad to say it.”
Then she lifted her head. “Are you here to visit me?”
“I’m here to visit my mother.”
“Who is your mother?”
And we settled in for round two.
But I believe that Myrtle, who is very loving and smiles at anyone who crosses her path, stored those words somewhere inside. She may not remember but I think somehow she knows.
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by Kathy Brasby | Jul 8, 2014 | Stories
After we moved onto our first little farm, we went shopping for a dog. Every farm needs a dog.
Lord Scooter of Fairfield was our pick – a registered Cocker Spaniel offered free by the breeder because he was the last one left in the litter and she needed him to go to a nice family.
You know how sirens should go off with the word free? No sirens.
We were told we could register our puppy and received the paperwork which we completed – including his name – and sent it off. The paperwork was only $25 and worth it, right?
Scooter was a sweet little brown dog and, as he meandered his way through puppyhood, we began to wonder when his long cocker spaniel coat would come in.
One of the boys on the school bus informed our daughter that, “That ain’t no cocker spaniel. He looks like a Labrador.”
Well, she sniffed when she told him that we had the paperwork to prove he was a Cocker Spaniel. AKC registration. The real deal.
And we waited for the beautiful hair to come in.
Which never happened.
We had, I am pretty sure, the only registered AKC puppy in the county who was officially a Cocker Spaniel but who looked an awful lot like a chocolate Labrador.
We learned later that the neighbor’s dog may have scaled the fence a couple of months before the puppies were born. Maybe.
Well, Scooter was free. And we were a nice family. Gullible but nice.
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by Kathy Brasby | Jul 4, 2014 | Personal
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by Kathy Brasby | Jun 25, 2014 | Hope
I’ve compiled some of my short stories about country life into a new eBook, The Overconfident Milk Truck and More Short stories. Click here to see the eBook site.
The Overconfident Milk Truck is available in a ton of eBook formats, including epub and Mobi. You can read on your Kindle or any mobile device by using an epub reader.
These stories should be a fast read, perfect for those times when you want a quick bit of fun. Please check out the link. You can download a sample free. Thanks for taking a look!
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