Blake and Malissa…

Thirty years ago, almost, I waited for what seemed forever in a hospital waiting room, covered up with newspapers to keep warm in the middle of November.  What’d I wait for?  A little white-haired baby named Blake.  White hair, I said.  It stuck up everywhere.  I didn’t want another cousin.  I was perfectly fine with Lindsey, his sister.  Any more children in the family and I knew that my good thing was over.  But…I saw him in his superman outfit, and his yellow CAT hat that he wore everywhere and I loved him more.  I changed his diapers, babysat him eternally it seemed like.  And then there was the time that I prayed to Jesus that he’d die.  Yea….I admitted it.  Did you know that B?  I have felt bad about it for 28 years.  Sorry, B.  And then there was the time when he made fun of my styrofoam like scrambled eggs .  Then there was the time (there were alot of times) when I drove to mama and daddy’s house and it was like a scene from a movie- there were high schoolers everywhere- including B who had invited everyone over to see him beat up a guy that he didn’t like.  Then there was the time he held my hand the whole time at Daddy’s funeral.  I love him like a brother- because that’s how we were raised.  I’m so proud of him.  He’s a nurse in the recovery room that’s going back to school to be a nurse practicioner.  He’s my B.

Good luck, sweet Malissa.  I guess you know by now that you’ll need it.  I love you too.  Take good care of him.

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