Cotton balls.
Curious how the most ordinary things can stir up in me a memory and a feeling in my body. And – weird – cotton balls?
Yep, those little white swabby things. I use them to take off nail polish. This particular cluster of white soft fuzzies came in the top of a supplement (vitamin D I think it was) bottle. It’s got the top plastic sealed, a you-gotta-peel-it-off seal under the lid, and then a blob of cotton under that.
MomJuls, only the most-awesome-cool-and-lovely soul who may have ever lived, was ultra cool and lovely for thousands of reasons. Among them, she taught me frugality and some common sense. “Sweetheart, save the cotton balls that come in the medicine bottles. They’re good for many things… I cannot understand why people throw away the cotton balls only to add cotton balls to their WalMart list.” Envision this tiny Italian woman, hands out and fingers-thumb touching, “I wanna say to them ‘eh, what’sa matter you?’”
She’s been gone now two years. No, that’s actually not quite right. She’s been out of her skin for two years, but her Soul has never left us.
Every time I save some cotton, it’s like I feel her satisfaction with me. Her approval. “Atsa ma-girl.”
Even now I raise my eyes to the heavens and share, “Juls, this is for you” when I reuse a piece of tin foil or saran wrap. Husband smiles. And when I save the last two bites of a sandwich or buy the day-old rotisserie chicken and, after having picked the bones clean, make soup out of it, I gotta believe she’s thrilled. “You-a make-a me proud, Toodle-Ooo,” she’d say and smooch my cheek. I’m sure of it.
At this time in my life, when I’m between jobs and my feet are floating a few inches off the ground and I can’t quite seem to find my purpose, I ponder this spitfire of a Soul.
She never had a career. And yet.
Didn’t earn enough money to mention. And yet.
Traveled minimally. And yet.
Never wrote a famous book nor did she get on TV or have her own YouTube channel.
And.
Yet.
She wasn’t even five feet tall but oh was she big-hearted. Highly influential to many, not just me. And today, as I wash out the glass jar the green olives came in to reuse somehow someway, I remember her. I still feel her.
And I smile.
Writing Every Day Down,
In gratitude & wonder.
JOURNAL PROMPT:
Becoming increasingly more aware of this very moment is rocking my world and so I share this vibe with you. I welcome you into a space of Now, Here, Being.
** Is there anyone who was influential to you in your childhood? Adolescence? Older? What makes you think of them even today?
** Are there any practical practices you have in your own life? Canning tomatoes? Making your own soap? Reusing tin foil?
** Is there anyone to whom you are influential?
** In our family, everyone’s got a nickname… have you got one?
Writing Every Day Down 