With it being 9/11, this post will be short...but it relates to that very day, 12 years ago..
So in my house, I do my own laundry as does my hubby. Not sure why, but it has been this way, since we started dating. I can't complain it's one less person's crap I have to fold...lol Any who, last night Ray told me he was going to do laundry. Mind you this was at 9:30 and I had one eye open, barely. I told him that I had clothes in the dryer that I just couldn't fold. I told him could just shove them up his ass. Yes, I seriously said that. BUT....it was in a sweet way, that made him laugh. I figured they would show up, unfolded, on the couch, when I woke in the morning. To my surprise, they were ALL neatly folded and waiting for me, on the bathroom sink. OK here comes the weird part....on top of that pile, was the pair of underwear I bought the evening of 9/11, at a different Duane Reade, across from my office. See I spent the night in my office on 9/11 because my apartment was part of the crime scene. In fact, we weren't allowed to move back in until after the Thanksgiving holiday. I actually lived at The Waldorf Astoria, until I could move back to my apartment. The Waldorf (and many other hotels) was kind enough to offer rooms, at a special rate, for those of us displaced after 9/11.
I have not worn those "Hanes Her Way" cotton briefs since 9/12/01. That's right, they have been packed away in a dresser drawer since I moved back home in 03. Here is my question....is this a sign of some sort???? I mean if you read my blog, you know I only wear thongs. SO...why did these undies appear? Liv and I cleaned my room, this weekend, so maybe she pulled them out and they got mixed up with dirty laundry. But how strange is it that not only did Ray fold my laundry, he placed that pair of undies, on the top of the pile. I am going to take it as some sort of a sign. A good sign, that it is OK for me to grieve, every year. It is OK for me to sob, for no reason at all, except for the fact that it is 9/11. It is OK, that I will never be able to erase those horrible images from my brain. It is ALL OK, because it is a part of ME. It has taught me to love harder, forgive easier, live ever day like it might be my last AND....I never ever go a day without telling my babies and my husband that I love them at least 20 times. So if you are reading this, reach out to those you love, forgive someone that has hurt you and live this day like it is your last...
When things get bad....remember, they WILL get better.