Enjoy the little things

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Status: Finished  |  Genre: Memoir  |  House: Booksie Classic
This is an essay on what matters the most to me

Submitted: October 24, 2016

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Submitted: October 24, 2016

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Enjoy the little things

We forget the little things, so it's no wonder some of us screw up the big things. - Neil Cavuto. I always seem to forget to notice the little things such as a friendly hello, a kiss good bye, or simply a little note. All of these things matter in some sort of way but we are blinded by our foolishness to focus on the things that doesn’t matter. I, for an example, should have focused more on the little things my mom did for me. When I was around seven my mom had fallen ill to a disease with many names. All of which remain unclear to me, but perhaps it’s for the best.

 

She spent a lot of time in hospitals and when she missed us she would write us letters with poems decorated with pop up stickers. Each letter was made uniquely for each child. Mine was usually animal or bug themed because she would always title it Sidney-Bug. The thought had never occurred to me to keep these letters, since I was a little kid I just assumed she’ll get better. As strong as my mother was, she wasn’t strong enough in the end and passed away 23rd of december, 2009. I only have one remaining letter left from her, it was the very last one she had ever wrote me. Didn’t say much but It didn’t need to, I knew she meant every word.

 

The letter now resides in my box of irreplaceables, always there for me when I need closure. The letter is written on a piece of notebook paper, folded and covered in stickers. Now the blue lines has faded, the paper has withered, and the stickers lost their shine. But it’s worth more to me than anything in the world.

 

The letter says;

Dear Sidney-bug,

I miss you so much! I can’t wait to come home and hug you and shower you with kisses! I’ll be home soon, dont worry! Be good for dad.~Love mom.”  Those few words can stir so many many emotions within me. They can make me feel like i'm wrapped in a big fluffy blanket, safe and warm. Or it can make me feel like a lost child in the rain, cold and shaken. On the long days and harder nights I would read it over and over again, putting myself in the shoes of the twelve year old me. If I had taken the time to appreciate all those letters that my mom had wrote to me I would still have them. Sometimes I wonder if she knew she wasn’t going to last and that’s why she wrote all those letters? Those creatively crafted letters, phone calls, and visits was the only way she could keep in touch with her children. Which breaks my heart all the more. How lonely she must have felt during her stays. I’m glad she spent her last three weeks at home with us.

 

Though she may be gone now, I sense her everywhere and in everything. Such as ladybugs,

hospital blankets, black coffee, faded paper, and the faint smell of perfume. I never noticed

how much theses things matter until they become the only thing that ties me to her. In a way,

the letter stands as a symbolic lesson. Teaching that one should always take time to

appreciate the little things. Now the letter will remain with me even when the ink fades, the

stickers fall off, and the paper is frail. It’ll reside in my heart along with the other little things.


© Copyright 2017 Justin Shier. All rights reserved.

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