Beautiful .There was a little old lady who lived beside us when my kids were small . No one ever visited her. She knit my daughter’s homecoming sweater. We’d make dinner and my son would deliver her a meal . The night she died she appeared beside my bed. Her spirit did anyhow . When her son finally showed up and came over and thanked me for being kind … and asked if I wanted anything . I asked for the heavy cement black fisher boy. He gave it to me . We moved and it sat in my garden . Almost twenty years later I left my marriage and my home and everything was left behind . My husband wouldn’t leave . It was horrible . Years later my son showed up at my door with the fisherboy. He had lost his foot in many moves and the paint was gone . I balled . My new husband made him a seat against our fence . I repainted him. Bought him a hat and a boots to cover his missing foot . He gets a new flag to hold , a new hat each spring and he is my symbol of rebirth . He is cherished. I love gnomes . Your mother and I would have been kindred spirits . Jennifer
Denise, I cannot really pick out what I want to say, exactly, but, but I loved this so much. My mom passed away two years ago almost exactly. There are some similarities in how our moms behaved and thought, I think (well, like your mom did, near the end, when she had the "I don't give a crap look." My mom pretty much always had that look!). She had gnomes, too. She didn't stand on ceremony. She taught our kids irreverent, rude skipping rhymes. While she was dying of kidney failure and we were gathered around -- all of us -- grandchildren, too. She said we weren't allowed to have a funeral or service for her. We said we would have a big party though, and have some of her favourite foods, etc. Tell funny stories. She agreed and said that if we did try to have a ceremony, she would haunt us. (she said these things in one-word phrases, at this point). We asked how we would know she was around and haunting us. She said one word: "swears". We all burst out laughing because she had quite the dirty mouth at times. We asked which one? She said, "shit".
This is so beautifully written. It’s 9am ish here and I’m crying into my cup of coffee. The feelings are tangible through my screen. Thank you for sharing x
You write beautifully and your story really touched me - teared up and smiled and thoroughly enjoyed reading. I am so pleased you got that gnome back, what amazing timing! <3
Beautiful & all the feels! Thank you for your storytelling transmutation of pain into such gold.
I am so glad that you got your gnome! I love it when we know, & we fight through the mundane nothingness & trust that weird little impulse.
Here is my gnome, from a different journey with my own emotionally immature parent who refuses to deal with their own pain.
I am being scapegoated by my narcisstic mother & she has destroyed my life in ways that are too absurd for me to not understand that something majestical is a foot.
Garden gnomes became part of my healing ‘wink’ walks where I learned to reclaim that intuitive connection to the Everywhen.
I was in a daze from the insanity of being scapegoated by my entire family, who all turned into those feral children from the Lord of the Flies. I would just wander around outside (walking is always sooo healing for me) and be led by some bigger force than myself. It was the easiest low-stakes way to get back in touch with my intuition. Take this street instead of that street, for no other reason than it feels like what I want to do. I clocked a lot of gnomes that summer. Anne Lamont has her ‘bird by bird’ I had my ‘gnome by gnome’.
This was a top shelf gnome wink! I was walking through this park & just when I heard a voice that clearly said I was indeed the fairest of them all (because I understand intergenerational trauma & want the best for everyone, including the pain-pushers, because what a wasted life & no parent in their right mind would want to harm their own child) - & I spied with my little eye. in a random patch of trees, at that exact moment a gnome that is so much a dwarf from Snow White.
That feeling of being interconnected has been intermittent on this strange path of cycle breaking that I walk…but things are accelerating. I feel we are in a shift as the shit so undefinably hits the fan.
Thanks for venturing over! The nasty comment was on a restack of the piece titled: 'When he died, I hadn't spoken to my father in 17 years. I have no regrets'. But I like this story better :)
Beautiful .There was a little old lady who lived beside us when my kids were small . No one ever visited her. She knit my daughter’s homecoming sweater. We’d make dinner and my son would deliver her a meal . The night she died she appeared beside my bed. Her spirit did anyhow . When her son finally showed up and came over and thanked me for being kind … and asked if I wanted anything . I asked for the heavy cement black fisher boy. He gave it to me . We moved and it sat in my garden . Almost twenty years later I left my marriage and my home and everything was left behind . My husband wouldn’t leave . It was horrible . Years later my son showed up at my door with the fisherboy. He had lost his foot in many moves and the paint was gone . I balled . My new husband made him a seat against our fence . I repainted him. Bought him a hat and a boots to cover his missing foot . He gets a new flag to hold , a new hat each spring and he is my symbol of rebirth . He is cherished. I love gnomes . Your mother and I would have been kindred spirits . Jennifer
I'm glad you still have him!
What an amazing story. Incredible glimpse into you and where you come from. Thank you for sharing this. Incredible read.
Thanks Ingrid. Probably my favourite personal story, so glad I got the gnome!
I really love your writing and I’m so glad you got to have the gnome.
Thanks Nique ❤️
Denise, I cannot really pick out what I want to say, exactly, but, but I loved this so much. My mom passed away two years ago almost exactly. There are some similarities in how our moms behaved and thought, I think (well, like your mom did, near the end, when she had the "I don't give a crap look." My mom pretty much always had that look!). She had gnomes, too. She didn't stand on ceremony. She taught our kids irreverent, rude skipping rhymes. While she was dying of kidney failure and we were gathered around -- all of us -- grandchildren, too. She said we weren't allowed to have a funeral or service for her. We said we would have a big party though, and have some of her favourite foods, etc. Tell funny stories. She agreed and said that if we did try to have a ceremony, she would haunt us. (she said these things in one-word phrases, at this point). We asked how we would know she was around and haunting us. She said one word: "swears". We all burst out laughing because she had quite the dirty mouth at times. We asked which one? She said, "shit".
Makes me smile just remembering this. Thank you.
Oh I love this, she sounds awesome!
This is so beautifully written. It’s 9am ish here and I’m crying into my cup of coffee. The feelings are tangible through my screen. Thank you for sharing x
Thank you so much x
You write beautifully and your story really touched me - teared up and smiled and thoroughly enjoyed reading. I am so pleased you got that gnome back, what amazing timing! <3
Thank you! I was so lucky!
Thank you for writing that!!! So great
Thanks for reading :)
Vivid and touching, Denise, thanks for sharing it.
Thank you so much, Wendy
Beautiful & all the feels! Thank you for your storytelling transmutation of pain into such gold.
I am so glad that you got your gnome! I love it when we know, & we fight through the mundane nothingness & trust that weird little impulse.
Here is my gnome, from a different journey with my own emotionally immature parent who refuses to deal with their own pain.
I am being scapegoated by my narcisstic mother & she has destroyed my life in ways that are too absurd for me to not understand that something majestical is a foot.
Garden gnomes became part of my healing ‘wink’ walks where I learned to reclaim that intuitive connection to the Everywhen.
I was in a daze from the insanity of being scapegoated by my entire family, who all turned into those feral children from the Lord of the Flies. I would just wander around outside (walking is always sooo healing for me) and be led by some bigger force than myself. It was the easiest low-stakes way to get back in touch with my intuition. Take this street instead of that street, for no other reason than it feels like what I want to do. I clocked a lot of gnomes that summer. Anne Lamont has her ‘bird by bird’ I had my ‘gnome by gnome’.
This was a top shelf gnome wink! I was walking through this park & just when I heard a voice that clearly said I was indeed the fairest of them all (because I understand intergenerational trauma & want the best for everyone, including the pain-pushers, because what a wasted life & no parent in their right mind would want to harm their own child) - & I spied with my little eye. in a random patch of trees, at that exact moment a gnome that is so much a dwarf from Snow White.
That feeling of being interconnected has been intermittent on this strange path of cycle breaking that I walk…but things are accelerating. I feel we are in a shift as the shit so undefinably hits the fan.
Beautiful, thank you for sharing ❤️
Beautifully written! Came here to read it after seeing your post about the nasty comments.
Thanks for venturing over! The nasty comment was on a restack of the piece titled: 'When he died, I hadn't spoken to my father in 17 years. I have no regrets'. But I like this story better :)