My perfect day.

Posted on April 02 2018

My perfect day.

I’m often asked how I come up with different topics to write for blogs. The truth is, some days, it’s incredibly easy. And others? It couldn’t be more difficult. I’m not much of a planner as most of you are probably aware. I fly by the seat of my pants and one of my greatest strengths is improvising. Something will get into my head and I’ll just need to write about. Sometimes, friends will send me ideas, or they’ll spark a topic that will transform into a simplistic idea that I think about regularly, but never really share thoughts on. But, for this piece in particular, I stumbled across, “Describe your perfect day”, and that’s what I wanted to write about because how interesting to talk about all my favorite things! If time travel was of the essence (is this the proper phrase to use here?), here is how my day would look.

My perfect morning would start off with waking up around 7:00am, like normal. I’d quickly shower and have my hair done from the night before, so I’d throw dry shampoo in there to give it a little life, throw on a stitch of makeup, my favorite black skinny jeans from Express, a black t shirt, and some earrings and call it good. Out the door I would be. I’d meet Kait at Barista Parlor to have a life chat, an iced Whiskey Caramel coffee drink, and a Moto. (breakfast sandwich that has egg, cheese, and bacon on a homemade biscuit).

After eating breakfast, I’d head over to see Grandma Tillie and give her a hug and listen to her infectious giggle as she tells me tales of her past. I’d laugh with her, hug her, look at her beautiful eyes and wonder, like always, how God made her such a strong, beautiful, spunky woman, but one of the most genuine people I know. Listening to her stories from her assisted living home reminds me of a mob, and she is the Al Pacino. Everyone knows Tillie and she has a beautiful heart.

After leaving one grandma, I’d head over to the other one, Grandma Leona, in Indiana. This time, I’d chat her ear off. I’d tell her about Nashville, my job, new things in my life, and I’d talk to her for hours and want to hug and squeeze her the whole time because I know how badly she misses my Grandpa. I’d bring her flowers because she loves them so much. I would awe at her while she speaks and remember how tough she was and how graceful she is, even in the worst of times, but she’d bring me back to reality with one of her catch phrases, “Good govenor” or “gettin old is for the birds” and we’d laugh and giggle together. And when I leave and watch her walk away from the door through the skinny glass window pane, I’d hold that memory in my heart forever.

After leaving Grandma Leona, I’d go to my mom’s house and discuss with her the frustrations in my life. She’d champion me and tell me how proud she is of me and offer support emotionally, even though I’d act strong. We’d laugh together and be comfortable in the living room, where we’ve sat hundreds of times before: laughing, crying, stoic, etc. We’d discuss life, crack jokes, and she’d offer me cookies or baked goods as I left. But she probably never knows how much she truly impacts my life, because I have a hard time saying it and being that vulnerable with her.

After leaving my mom’s, I’d head to my oldest brother Reid and his wife Michelle’s house to see them and my favorite nephew, Mason. He would run over to my car and he’d act shy for two minutes before he shows me something he’s proud of. Reid would say, “Hey Britt” and Michelle would ask, “Hey Brittany”, and in those few words, I’d feel at home just being around the three of them, being myself. We would laugh and catch up and I’d play a car racing game or tractors with Mason and I’d find myself on the floor—just like when I was growing up with his dad, my big brother. I’d give them all hugs and head out the door.

Lastly, my perfect day would end with some 'za and my good ol pops. We’d have beers and garlic cheese bread to start. I’d listen to his day and things in his life and encourage him while reminding him that there are still good people in the world, while assuring him that his children, love him with their whole hearts. After the serious talk, we’d have many laughs, many sarcastic jabs, including, “that’s what she said”, and we’d the night with a skillet cookie and full bellies, feeling disgusting and overweight. My perfect day runs through a list of people, ones that I don’t see often. They’re ones that are so near and dear to my heart, but honestly, include no particular order. But, what’s important to me my perfect day is shared time.

My perfect day doesn’t rotate around what I would buy, what I would wear, or where I’d go if I had the opportunity. My perfect day rotates on the people that are most special to me. The ones I look at and thank the Lord for putting them in my life, and wonder how they love me so much.

B.

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