Sweet Memories, Laugh Out Loud

December 26, 1997: The kids didn't get to play in the snow too much yesterday before it melted. I said not to worry, there was a lot of winter left when it might snow. Sarah, laughing at herself, said, "I thought that today was the last day for snowing."

 

December 31, 1997: Some friends' were over yesterday watching a Noah's Ark movie with the kids. When the flood was about to kill the bad people, the little boy said something, maybe happily, about the people being killed. Rebecca said, reprovingly, "That's not funny. They're not going to get to go to Heaven."

 

January 2, 1998: Last night Murray asked the kids if they'd like to go to McDonald’s after supper for a soda and to play in the play area. Excitedly, Caleb said, "Daddy, I just like you, and I'm glad I live on earth!"

 

January 3, 1998: Kathy came downstairs the other day and found Caleb and Rebecca busily engaged in something. "What are you guys doing?" she asked. "I'm teaching Caleb to write cursive," Rebecca replied, "Because he's not learning it in school."

 

January 4, 1998: Murray and the kids were in the car today, purchasing gas at an unmanned pay-at-the-pump place. Rebecca was reading the posted warnings and, as the van filled and Murray climbed in to begin logging the purchase, Rebecca said, "You just left a pump unattended,” (which the sign said not to do).

 

Later, in the van, there was a lively discussion of traffic infractions, penalties, etc. Murray said that one infraction was driving through a red light. Rebecca said that Murray did that once. Murray said that yes, he accidentally did that once, and "You saw how upset I was that I did that. I didn't even get caught by the police, but I was very upset." Sarah said, "You could call the police and tell them you're sorry."

 

January 6, 1997: Murray was telling the kids about the people in his family, and he said, "Manly, Mark..." Rebecca jumped in, "Luke, John." A couple days later, we were laughing about her saying that, and Rebecca said, "I bet you wrote that on the computer."

 

January 12, 1998, Yesterday, Murray thought he had given Sarah a piece of bread at dinner. "No,” she said, “You tried to, but I rebuked you.”

 

January 14, 1998: Last night Ping-Hwei said there was something he wanted to write down so he could put it on his computer at school. He said, "My family, funny, call me Bubby and Boss." (his two nicknames)

 

January 19, 1998: Caleb has an alarm clock that has a rooster that crows. This morning Sarah knocked on my door and said, "I heard Caleb's hen crow."

 

January 21, 1998: This morning Sarah told me to kiss her on her hair head. Then she rubbed it in and said, "It's slipping down to my heart."

 

When Ping-Hwei wants to play one of Benjamin's musical toys, he says, "I want to give Benjamin a listen."

 

When someone holds the refrigerator door open, Ping-Hwei sternly tells them to close it and says, "Babba (Dad) needs to pay!"

 

Sarah was trying to butter a piece of bread and was having difficulty. Her explanation for why the clump of butter wasn't spreading: "It's not concentrating." 

My Friend Esther, Fifteen Years And Counting

A couple weeks ago, my cat Esther and I celebrated our fifteenth anniversary.

In 2001, Murray and the kids decided to get me a kitty as a surprise Valentine’s Day present. They went to the animal shelter, filled out all the necessary paperwork, then checked out the cats who wanted a new home. A lady who worked there indicated Esther and said, “She’s the friendliest one.”

So they brought her home, and everyone carefully coached Benjamin, who was four at the time, not to say anything about her when I got home from work. “What are you going to do when Mama gets home, Benjamin?” “Not say anything about the cat.”

Everybody was gathered in the living room when I came in the front door. “Hi, Mommy.” Benjamin greeted me happily. Then he turned and walked the other way, murmuring, “I didn’t say anything about the cat.”

Murray quickly grabbed my hand and said, “What is this Rebecca has?” And he put my hand on Esther, sitting on Rebecca’s lap.

She was calm, and she was friendly, and she didn’t waste any time winning my love.

She was an adult, two years old when we got her, and she kept being a calm, friendly member of our household until about three years later. Then we decided to bring Holly into our family. I was sure Esther would be happier if she had a kitty friend to play with.

Not such good thinking. Once Holly and Esther were both established, we started learning more about the varied personalities and moods of cats. They never got along. They hissed and growled at each other, and chased each other out of whatever space each was claiming for her own at the time.

Esther wasn’t so calm and good-natured any more. Murray said she asked us, “Why’d you bring that other cat? Wasn’t I good enough?”

Time passed. We moved to a different house, and even if they weren’t friends, we loved our cats for their grouchy and annoying selves.

Then we got a dog.

Now the cats were really mad. But did they join forces against the dog? No. Holly retreated to the basement, where the dog never goes. Esther withdrew to Murray’s and my bedroom, which isn’t open to the dog. And that’s where they stayed.

Holly was with us for eleven years, and whenever we could coax her out, she was a joy. When she died last summer, I started getting scared that Esther would die at any time. I’ve pretty much gotten over that.

Esther is seventeen, which is certainly old for a cat. But she’s still going strong, so I’ve decided to enjoy every day I have to spend with this precious gift.

Esther is calmer again as she’s grown older, but she’s still active. She loves to eat, and she yells at us if we haven’t fed her quite as soon as she wants us to. She winds around my feet whenever I go into the bathroom. She carries on long conversations with my daughter Sarah.

One night recently, I must have had food on my face, because when I went to bed, Esther started licking my chin. I told Murray, “It was so sweet, just like a little puppy.” By the way, I don’t let the dog lick my face.

Esther has always hopped on the bed and curled up by me at night, but over the last few years, she’s crawled under the blankets with me in the winter. This year, she snuggles right up against my face. A little hard to breathe comfortably with all that fur, yes. But she plops down close to me, lays her face against mine, and purrs loud and long. How can I push her away?