Sticks and Stones.

"Sticks and stones will break my bones but words will never hurt me" is likely the biggest lie told since the day it was published in 1862.  

This is not an anti bullying campaign or an attempt to have your words filtered or censored.  It is simply a reminder to myself that my words are not free; they come at a price of ownership.  That is one of the stiffest challenges in writing a blog, posting an opinion on Facebook, or texting a friend.  Whether they are pecked into a qwerty keyboard, inked across your back, or pulled across the sky by a prop plane they are forever out there; even on Snapchat.

Remember in 3rd grade when "Anne" (fake name to protect the heartless heifer) followed you into the bathroom in the elementary school hallway.  You went into the stall as usual but when you came out she asked, "why are you so fat?"  To this day, 40 years later I hold onto those words. Why? The same reason I hold onto the words of a dear high school friend who said, "hey, that note you handed me after school meant so much to me."  I need to have the old heart strings plucked every now and then. I need an emotional reality check on the words I spew all over a conversation.  I need a reminder that even unintentionally, words can hurt worse than sticks or stones. 

Just as there is a difference in wisdom and knowledge, there is a difference in where and how I store all of my word entangled memories.  For instance, I can recite a large portion of the Gettysburg Address. This is rather useless information but for whatever reason I maintain a portion of the words of Abraham Lincoln deep inside my mass of neuronal cells that rattles around between the ears.  Occasionally as a parlor trick or party favor I retrieve and recite to impress my friends, colleagues and strangers alike.  While I love the meaningful words given by Lincoln in 1863 I do not store those in my heart but in my head.  

The things I tuck deep into my chest for safe keeping are different. They are words that have changed me when I didn't want to be changed, hurtful words uttered by those that love me, and shocking words that I would like to purge from existence forever.  They are the sweet and sour, harsh and happy words to live by. They are a halogen bulbs to shine over my next sentence or statement, they are my reminder words that I have wedged into that small space just above my heart. They are the word memories that lump up in my throat just before I cry. They are the words that shaped me yesterday and define who I will be tomorrow.  

Some of the words I have tucked away are simply these:

Hey, Mama. What's going on? No, I just ain't talk to you in a while. You sound upset. Is something wrong? Are you upset with me?

No, Angel. I'm not upset. I'm not upset at all. It's been a long week and I'm really tired and just ready to lay my head down.

OK. If you're sure you're not upset. I sure hope you get rested soon. I guess I'll talk to you later. I love you, Mama.

I love you too, Ange.
Mother? Where are you? Are you busy? Can you talk a minute?

I'm on my way home. I should be there later this evening. What's going on?

Well, you know, I just had a thought and I wanted to tell you. I was thinking, well you know I've always got a plan. Let me know what you think about this.

That sounds great. You have always got a plan. Is that something you're going to start soon?

Oh, I don't know. I was just thinking about it. you know I've got some time on my hands to be thinking about stuff. Well be careful, Mother, and I will see you in a day or two.

I love you, Levi.

I love you too, Mother. 

Good night, Mommy. I loveth  thee thou

Oh, Bubbie.  I've missed you and I loveth thee thou as well

Sometimes when I've been away too long I wonder around in my memories to find these sweet words from my boys.  These words are like sweet hugs that give me direction, support, and energy to combat all that comes at me.  

I own these words. They were gifts from my boys.