two things I learned in Bismarck...

Billy and I had an incredible time visiting Mom and Dad - we managed to grocery shop, wash their car, cook dinner, then breakfast, clean out their back closet, office closet AND basement closet (and NO, as a matter of fact MY house isn't as organized as their house is), play Sudoku AND chicken or pig. I am SO grateful that Billy loves his Grammy and Bapa so much, and I'm SO glad he's getting to build some of these memories, because he's pretty young, and they're pretty old, and this whole mortality thing kind of gets in the way of hugs and kisses.

So, while I was cleaning out their office closet I found a bowl that was given to Mom by one of her dear friends that died many years ago. I brought it out to her, and she did the "Ahhhhhhh, it's from Isabel Perry," and I suggested we put it out somewhere so she could look at it and remember Isabel. Dad suggested giving it back to her family, and Mom looked at him like he was slightly crazy. Dad shrugged his shoulders. A light went off in my head - no, seriously, a real light went off, and I suddenly KNEW - I get my family object hoarding tendencies from my mother - I simply cannot get rid of anything that's come from my family (I've got my grandpa's sock garters AND my grandma's hair when she cut it short that one time, for crying out loud), whether it's furniture, dishes, blankets, figurines, or photos. It would be like throwing out the PERSON if I got rid of anything. Now, on the surface I know that's not true, but when Mom did that "ahhhhhhh" I realized I feel the same way. So, as part of my new world I am going through the house and deliberately throwing out or giving away things I've hung onto just because I thought I HAD to, not because I wanted to. In the trash went Dad's old passport from the early 70's - what did I think I could do with that? Make a collage, maybe...

Later on Sunday, Bill, Dad, Mom and I played our famous chicken or pig game with two dice. The object is to get to 100 first, without getting double one's (you lose everything), or even one 1 (you lose your points for that turn). At one point, I rolled a 74. Dad rolled, then asked what I had - I told him 73, so he quit for that turn. Then I rolled, and got an 83. I looked at his current score: 82 - I stopped. And on it went - both of us besting the other by one point each turn, looking slant-eyed at each other like gunshooters at the Okay Corral. Then I got the first 1 - "Oh, honey," Dad said, "you rolled SUCH a beautiful 1 - just LOOK at that one," and on. Then I had my second realization of the day: I get my competitiveness from my DAD. It's a fun competitiveness, like walking down the street with someone, then you pick up your pace, then they go a little faster, then you go faster, and on, but in the end it doesn't really matter who wins - it's just fun to feel that energy of the race while you're in the middle of it (lest you think I'm holier-than-thou, I ALSO get that other kind of competitive that not's so fun and lighthearted, but REALLY cares that I come out on top, but that's a story for another day). By the way, I won that game of chicken and pig...

So I love my mom and dad fiercely. I respect them and look up to them. I love to hear their stories, even if I've heard them a million times - they never get old, those stories, and neither do my mom and dad - they just keep getting deeper to me. I sat with my dad's feet in my lap and rubbed them for a while. This is the closest I can get to perfect happiness, I keep thinking, remembering that time. It is so precious, so perfectly and totally precious, and no meltdowns, or malfunctioning computers, or crooked car dealerships or irresponsible roommates or disrespectful sisters can touch how I feel about my parents. I love them completely - they are the two best people I know, and I will do anything for them.

Okay, so that's THREE things I learned in Bismarck: I also realized how totally I love my parents, and that's a really good thing to learn (and remember).