julierichmond

Facebook memories come up almost every day when I sign on.

There are sweet moments and pictures where I bask in the joy of my 13 year old son laughing at a joke, a snow day, Katy in her costume for Irish step dancing, Sophie, zumba marathons at the Y, fall leaves at Cunningham, a birthday party at Chuckie Cheese, a Christmas morning with Nancy and Jeff, a full moon, a new song, the craft fair at church.

Some sting- Colin’s picture on his first day of football practice at the high school, just before I lost him, before I realized when I said be home by 11, he wouldn’t be. 

There are posts and pictures from Quincy College pre Covid, when I’d been hired full-time, and I thought I’d found my forever home.

There are the photos of Katy, Tue, and Thanh, Andre, Robin, Parisa, Anya, Lucy, Jeff, Sophia, and Daisy, our first pet.

I set up a Facebook page called “Find Daisy Doodle”. She must have slipped out late at night and we never heard her at the door. I only mourn her when she comes up. She loved me, but was a Yorkshire, and a little mean to everyone that wasn’t me. When I got the call, at the church, that she was found, I thought she was fine. They had to spell it out over the phone, while I stepped away from a committee meeting for Religious Education.

(Out of the other people I mentioned, only Jeff is gone, and I am blessed to still be connected to everyone else. On Facebook, mostly, and that’s one of the reasons I’m here.)

It was close to Thanksgiving, I think. That day, or the next, Katy, Colin, and I trekked up to Northshore Animal Shelter. We met dogs. I fell in love with an Australian Shephard and Colin stepped in. “Mom, that dog is not great with kids. Let’s keep looking.” 

We kept on. We met Sophie, part of a litter that had just come in from Georgia, found at a Walmart as the legend goes. She was mellow, just the right age, the right size, available immediately.

We brought her home, after Colin approved. Katy was there but loved all the dogs and would have agreed to any one that Colin chose.

They don’t tell you at the shelter that new dogs are mellow. They’ve just had their shots and are weary and stoned.

Within days, Sophie was a puppy who ran. She’d slip out the back door to visit the bunnies by Andrews. She’d take off at Cunningham just before it was time to go home. She found ways out of the back yard, and she was skilled at slipping her collar, on a late night dog walk. 

We’d run or drive around in the car, calling her name, begging her with treats that smelled like peanut butter or Sheldon’s leftover Big Mac. Colin was the master; I think I called him home from friends’ houses to help. 

But that was when it was getting close to the time where things became difficult. Maybe I sensed that asking Colin for help- with Sophie, finding the keys, making dinner, was important.

I should have asked for help more. Or less. Maybe then, he would have leaned on me and things would be different.

Katy’s at college, and Colin picks up my calls. 

I wish I could connect how we got from the memories I see on my phone, and the photos we show on the mantle, to now.

How do I talk to my kids about something else than when they’re coming back home and how long they’ll stay?

How do I write look at the moon when I said that in 2014, 2018, 2020, and last month?

How can I ramble on about how I like dogs, pop music, the gym, and my family when I’ve said it over and over again?

But you know, when I look at the moon tonight, it’s just as magnificent, as it was the first time I said it, and we are just as likely not to remember it’s out there. 

I forget to look at the moon. I forget to step outside and pause to look up, while the dogs pull at their leashes, and I think about what time I need to get up in the morning.

Tonight, it seems the moon is hanging over a world that feels a little more hopeless.

Maybe it’s more important than it ever was to admit that I don’t know if I did everything right.

I have more time, but I’m scared of being redundant, or old, overly optimistic, or filled with doom.

So I’ll just say- I love having Facebook memories. 

I won’t have any if I I stop taking note.

The moon is fantastic tonight.

The best way to take care of yourself is to take care of yourself.

I choose to start with the moon and a phone call to someone that might have forgotten it’s out there.

Now, it’s late, but there is tomorrow, which is the greatest luxury of all