Hit and Hurt

Ok..so, like, Z is new to this Google Blogger..so bear with me..

I never know when it's going to hit and hurt. This evening "it" was as I was attempting the task of a dog hair free clean bed.As I was headed up the stairs to my bedroom, I had in my hands the colorless white, queen size Downy fresh sheets. Ok, ok, they weren't Downy fresh, they were Purex lavender blossom fresh. Purex is within my broke-now budget. But, to be honest, I would still buy the Purex over Downy.
M.A.S.H - the good old 4077th, 70's show was on the t.v. The retro station. The shows I have watched through my entire life are now retro. I like retro and vintage, as it pertains to home decor and furniture, but not when it pertains to my life span. How quickly 55 years have vaporized into the past. Ho Hum.
 Anyway, in between watching Hawkeye Pierce and putting 5 lavender blossom smelling pillow cases on my 6 pillows, ..I figured out I was one pillow case short. I headed to the linen closet in my bedroom, opened the bi-fold door, and took a look at the massive stacks of linens. Ahhh, there we go..all of the folded white ones within eye range. I grab the first one, pull it out and open. I'm "Hit" with a lump in my throat a "Hurt" in my chest, and a tear down my face. As I'm looking down through the tear, I see my mom's "not quite finished" embroidered pillowcase. She has had it in her chest of drawer for years. Or as my mom pronounced the word, chester drawers.  I don't know why she never completed it. I turn around behind me to her hope chest. I push open the lock button, lift the lid, gently slip the pillowcase in, and close the lid. Grief is the IT, and it hits, I know not when, and it hurts. And I welcome it, and yet I hate it. Welcomed, because it reminds me of the fact that my mom was real and lived and was loved. And yet I hate it, because it reminds me of the fact that my mom was real, lived, was loved, and is gone.