Lessons learned during crazy days
What a crazy week I just experienced. This old gal learned a slew of new lessons in seven days.
First, at the beginning of the week, I flew to South Florida to stay with my fourteen-year-old granddaughter while her parents were away.
When a tall woman yelled, “Grandma,” at the arrival gate, I glanced behind me to see who this young lady was addressing.
When she shouted the name again, this time, I realized she was talking to me.
When Avery was born in 2005, I declared I would never allow more than six to eight weeks to pass between visits. For over thirteen years, that vow held until June 2019.
It had now been five months since I laid eyes upon my grandchild, and somehow during those months, the child became a young woman who was now taller than I am and still growing.
My first response after, “Who are you?” was, “I will never allow that much time to pass by again.” And, you know what, I never will.
While in Florida, I recalled just how hectic families’ lives genuinely are.
I was a single working mother with three children, so when folks tell me how busy their world is with one child, I usually don’t have a lot of sympathies.
Avery is a ballerina who has the lead role as Clara in the upcoming Nutcracker ballet in Ft. Lauderdale. Once I arrived in Florida, my daughter handed me Avery’s written schedule.
After I studied the timing of each day’s activities, I put my Uber decal in the car’s window.
I was up at 6 am, prepared breakfast, packed lunch, then we left for school.
Between school, the dance studio, fast food restaurants, and Avery’s baby-sitting job on Friday night, this Uber driver was out of gas.
While my daughter was away, I decided to help my over Ubered child by deep cleaning her house.
By the time my aching body boarded Delta to return to Atlanta, I had sworn I would have more sympathy for the busy lives of parents today and not be so judgmental.
We always think as older adults that younger folks have it easy. Sometimes, trust me, they don’t.
If you are among the living, you are aware of pesky robocalls. When I see a call from a place such as Nowhereville, Alaska, why would I answer? Right?
While I was in the throws of my deep cleaning, my phone rang with a call from New York City. I started not to answer, but at the last minute, while my hands were wet from Mr. Clean, my brain decided to hit the green button.
For a minute, I thought I had inhaled a combination of bleach and Mr. Clean, and I was experiencing some chemically induced hallucination.
It seems I wrote an article for submission to a major magazine several months ago.
After the caller’s introductions of which I paid no attention, I heard, “Mrs. Gendusa, we have decided to publish your story in our February edition.”
It was then I came out of my Mr. Clean coma and asked brilliantly, “Wait, who is this?”
After the conversation, I hung up the phone, realizing I did not write down the editor’s name, or any pertinent information a writer should always know to do.
If they decided not to use my story after their interview with me, I should blame Mr. Clean, a bucket of bleach, and my lack of understanding that good news can come between robocalls and Uber drives.
God has a way of always blessing us with life lessons to take us off our high horses.
He hands them to us in funny, bizarre ways, and for that, I am immensely thankful for the crazy days and weeks of our lives.