Not All Days Are Warm and Fuzzy

My sisters and I could stop and talk to anyone. A person in my youngest sister’s neighborhood said she’d start out on a 10 minute dog walk and be gone for an hour. She stopped and talked to everyone.
Some people who do that are often avoided by others. “Go hide, her she comes.” It wasn’t so with my sister. She had a gift; she listened.
She liked to laugh. If something was really funny she’d let out with a full-throat laugh, give a little shove, and say, “Oh, my gosh, that is funny.” Her expression was genuine.
That was my youngest sister. My oldest sister was much the same.
My oldest sister could pick up a conversation anywhere. Anywhere as in a setting, but also she could jump in without knowing where the conversation had been, where it was going, or whether she could add anything meaningful to it.
She liked laughter too and when something was even mildly amusing she’d say the same thing but with a slight Mississippi draw, “Oh, my garsh, that was a funny one.”
Each of us, though, valued our privacy; alone time. However, at times we may have had to venture out among people who knew us and we didn’t have our “A” game with us; we wanted to be left alone.
Those are the times we have to put on the shirt that says it for us.



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