Boulder, Colorado is 1 of the most beautiful places that I have ever visited. On numerous occasions I have come *THIS* close (trust me, that’s REALLY close) to moving to Boulder. It reminds me a lot of Charlottesville, especially Pearl Street (another example of the Downtown Mall).
I spent part of my day in Boulder in one of the National Parks. I was up over 12,000′, did some hiking, saw some amazing wildlife (elks mating… interesting), had some time for personal reflection, and participated in some awesome conversation with some very close friends of mine, Kim & Coup.
Kim & Coup are 2 of the most intelligent people that I know. Not only are they ‘book smart’ but they are always dishing out wisdom and offering different perspectives that I haven’t examined. They also are really good at questioning me, but in a positive manner. When I explained what 29 Days Until 29 was and why I was doing it they pushed for more information. They weren’t doing so in a bad way, but because they had a genuine interest, because they always want to learn more about anything and everything. They helped me to better articulate this journey so far and that was something that I needed.
Coup’s dad passed away from cancer and Coup shared some stories with me about that, what he learned from the experience, and what he took away from it, but the story that I want to share is actually about my mom. See, my mom was Coup’s ‘Washington Mom’ — the process by which she arrived at the title could be a book unto itself, so we won’t get into that, but we’ll leave it at the fact that they were very close.
If you haven’t yet read 1 of my 1st posts, ‘All About Mom’, I ask that you read that 1st so that this story makes a little more sense. Coup tells me this story every time that I see him and every time I laugh to the point where I cry. This is the carrots story.
One day mom was working behind the lunch counter at St. Mary’s elementary school. This was a common occurrence, as parents volunteered to help serve food each day. A classmate of mine was working his way down the lunch line and got to mom and in a very soft voice muttered ‘carrots’. Mom said, ‘excuse me?’ He replied, ‘carrots’ while looking down and in a soft tone of voice. Mom responded with, ‘pardon me?’ Again he said ‘carrots’ to which mom responded with, ‘excuse me?’. My classmate then looked her straight in the eye, raised his voice, and loudly, clearly, and SLOWLY said, ‘car-rots…’. And again mom responded with, ‘pardon me?’
At this point the girl next to him in the line elbowed him and whispered, ‘She wants you to say please.’
The take-away (aside from the obvious)? It’s the memories that last.
It’s a shame that we can lose site of that in our day to day lives. It’s a shame that it takes me hearing cancer connection stories to remember that each day. It’s something that I vow to change about myself. As a matter of fact it’s not even something that I consciously need to change, because unconsciously it has forever changed courtesy of the past 3 weeks of my life.
Share your story. Any story. With anyone. Have a conversation that goes beyond the superficial chit chat. Then smile.