Waiting. . . .

The old woman waits. She perches herself by the bay window and watches. She smiles when she sees the mailman finally trudge up to her door. She hears the mail flap open and THUD, the mail spills onto her open foyer. Her heart beats a bit faster as she pulls herself up to see what and who remembered her today. As she nears the pile, she recognizes her old friends, SEARS and JC PENNEYS. She smiles. It has been a while since she visited. She sighs, holds the letters close to her heart and returns to her chair, all the while smoothing the letters close to her. She smiles and falls asleep, contented. It was all she needed to feel needed and wanted once again....

Have you ever visited FB or Gmail in hopes that you will get some mail to warm your heart? Do you have to be contented by ads and public announcements for your social satisfaction?

Just wondering.

As we age in this civilized and modern world, we find a source of contentment in communicating, albeit electronically, and it feeds our souls, whether we like to admit it or not....I just sent an email to my six children and keep checking every few minutes back to see if any of them have responded - how silly and unrealistic is that? But as I mature, I start finding myself becoming more needy... and I keep reminding myself to have realistic expectations....Reminds me of my grandmother as she checked the mail daily to see if her relatives from Europe had thought of her....of my dad checking the mail and expecting news from Iowa. Everyone is so busy. Even I was. Too busy to call my dad on his birthday once. That was over 40 years ago and still hurts me to think how selfish I was. One little call. My mom told me that he sat there all evening - right by the phone waiting for me to call. Oh, how I wish we could do overs....

But I can't, so I try to keep up the communication with family via email, Google +, Facebook and, yes, even messaging. At least I will know that I am doing my best now. That was not always the case and it makes me ever so sad, so I must learn to forgive myself. That's the easy part. The hard part is forgetting.