Dear World, It’s me- Tilly

A new relationship can develop. But the cicatrix of the old one remains. And nothing grows on a cicatrix . Nothing grows through it.
— Elizabeth George, Playing for the Ashes

Table. Tilly Rivers

Table

I often wonder how it is. For example, how is it that siblings can grow up in the same household with the same parents, with the same environment and be so different? How can some of them pick up some habits, some others, and some not at all?  I guess this is one of the mysteries that won’t be solved.

Take me for example. I have a large family by some people’s standards, certainly in today’s society of 1.2 kids ~smiles~ Never could figure out the .2 either,  is it a part child, or in the house part-time? ~smiles~ (I know- I know I have the oddest thoughts.) ~giggles~ in total, there are six of us.

Back to my point….and if this is the first time you have read my blog, don’t worry, you will get use to my random wanderings ~smiles~. I’m like that talking dog on the cartoon movie “UP” I get sidetracked easily….’squirrel“…. ~giggles~

My sisters and I are very different, not just physically, which we are, I am tall, they are short…but habits as well. My Mom hated ‘stuff’ on her kitchen table. She liked it neat, which is ironic if you knew my Mother who had ‘stuff’ everywhere in her home.  I hate my table messy, mind you I hate ‘stuff’ and messy anywhere in my home, but I especially hate it when someone just leaves shit on the kitchen table. My one sister, her table is always messy, and I am always cleaning it off when ever I go to visit. She picked up Mom’s habit of ‘keeping’ everything, I keep it simple and clutter free. Same family- same parents, different habits.

I suppose it is only natural for me to be thinking about my Mom so much the last few days with Mother’s Day around the corner. I sure miss her…

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