Seven

Today is Little Big Boy's birthday. Seven. Seven? Seven, indeed.

It was a happy day. Transformers, Go Diego Go, Speed Racer and Star Wars: The Clone Wars were all represented in one way or another. You can tell by the range of things represented that he is battling the battle of becoming a Little Big Man. Go Diego Go; Thomas the Tank Engine and the preschool gang are things that he isn't ready to part with. However, he is looking for "older" fun, too.

The Easter Bunny arrived at the local mall today. It was nice for Little Big Boy and Number One Daughter. They didn't sit with him or pose for pictures, but it was a pleasant outing.

I was reading a post of mine from 2005. He was three and stealing shrimp off of G's and my plates at dinner. It was nice to recall his little hands moving to our plates so quickly. It was a funny dinner. There is a part of me that would like to go back to that night and sit at that table again. Three is a very long time ago. I want to go back and bask in the joy of my three and six year olds' play. They are so grown up now...it goes too fast.

Today he turned seven. Today we laughed and sang the Happy Birthday song. Tonight I might get a little teary when I peek in on him...lying in his bed...he is growing up. Too fast. So cliche, but it is a cliche because it is true...

Moving on...

When I was a small child, my best friend lived right across the street. She had blonde curly hair. I don't remember her eye color, but I can "see" her in my mind. We played. Rode bikes. Ate boiled peanuts...how I miss boiled peanuts. Her mom's boiled peanuts were the best in the land! I think that I was four-years-old when she passed away. She had leukemia. Back then, that was a death sentence.
The reason that I think that I was four, is that I don't remember Theresa being around when I was in kindergarten. Before she passed away, she was hospitalized many, many times. She suffered so. I remember one time that we were riding bikes and she fell off of hers. She had cuts and scrapes all over. I can see myself running home to get her mother. A boy in high school carried her behind me as I ran. She had blood all over her body. Maybe it was hard to control bleeding when you had leukemia back then.
I am not trying to shock or be macabre. It was the way life was. The day that she died, my mother told me to get my brother and sister and come inside. I remember not knowing how to feel. I didn't know what to do. Then I remembered seeing someone react to death on one of my mother's soap operas. The actress repeated, "No. No it can't be true," several times. So I said that over and over again.
When I was in high school, I watched an episode of Room 222. One of the students died of leukemia. I burst into tears and literally couldn't stop crying for hours. That was the first time that I really dealt with Theresa's death. Whenever I hear of someone dying from leukemia, I get tears in my eyes. Sometimes I cry.
The last that I heard of her family is that they had moved away. A few years later, they had a baby girl. They named her after Theresa. I think that is sweet. Not that they wanted their daughter to become her namesake, but that they wanted her big sister to be remembered and honored.
I have been looking for a basset hound. I have been looking for one that looks like my Bessie. She didn't have breed standard long ears. They were lengthy, but not up to standard. I recently saw a deaf basset hound at a rescue. She is the one that I want, but I think that I am trying to get Bessie back. I want my girl back. I guess that I am trying to deal with her loss now, so that decades later it won't affect me. It is hard to live pain.
G brought home an Australian Cattle Dog, formerly known as a Blue or Red Tick Heeler. She is pretty. TOO ENERGETIC for me. I haven't opened my heart to her completely yet, but I know that I will. She is not good with our cats, so I am on the fence about this decision.
Yet, it is nice to have a dog in the house. If you are a dog person, you just can't stand the emptiness of a home without a faithful friend. Bessie was G's first dog. In a way it is cute that he had to get another dog first. He has become a dog person, but he doesn't spend time training her...that has fallen to me. It is therapy, I guess. She won't lay on Bessie's bed. She just lays her head on the edge. It is sweet. I get the feeling that my Bess is ever in her bed with us. Observing the goings on as always. Ever here. Ever near.