Yesterday morning, I got an email from my downstairs neighbor, Karen, with this subject:
PENNY THE PEN IS ON YOUR STEPS GOING UP TO YOUR APT ON THE BACK STEPS
I herein realized, “Oh, no! I’ve lost track of Penny the Pen* twice in two days!”
The rest of Karen’s email is here:
Dear Ann, I moved it up from the back hall as you walk in because I didn’t want Faxy to chew it and I meant to email you last night. Sorry i didn’t. But she is there today and waiting to picked up. Love, Karen
Here’s what I want to say about that email:
- Karen is apologizing, like a lot of people I know here on this earth, for no good reason, since she is doing me a huge favor.
- Karen refers to Penny as “it” and “she” here, which makes me feel a little bit better about referring to Faxy sometimes as “he” and “she.”
- Lots of people here might not know who Faxy is.
That’s Faxy, Karen’s adorable dog, saying “I’m here!” She most recently appeared in my New Year’s Eve post, here.
Thank you, Karen, for preventing Faxy from saying, “I’m here” to Penny by chewing her to pieces.
I’m here to tell you that after I got that great email from Karen, I went out into the hallway, and found this here:
This Mommy is glad that Karen is here and that I’m here, too.
I’m here to tell you I then snapped these photos, to let you know that Penny is still here, thanks to Karen:
This may be neither here nor there, but those three photos show that I’m now being more careful that Penny stays here with us, as I transport her between home and my office.
After an interesting day at work yesterday, where several people said, “I’m here!” in their own healing ways in individual and group therapy, I walked back to my car, through the frozen Fenway Park area of Boston. When it’s very cold and I’m here in the friggin’ freezing Northeastern USA, I don’t pause to pose Penny in pictures, purely to make sure that both Penny and I feel fine.
However, be assured that I’m here with Penny while snapping each of these following images:
After I got home from work last night — saying, “I’m here!” to my boyfriend Michael — Michael (and, later, my son Aaron) tried to guess what the “I’m here Mommy!” sign meant. In the meantime, I took these here three photos :
What else did I want to say about “I’m here (Mommy!)” before I leave here for cardiac rehab AND a full Friday’s workday?
- I’m very glad I’m here, in the blog-o-sphere, work-o-sphere, and long-weekend-o-sphere (starting tomorrow).
- My 16-year-old son, Aaron, never, ever called me “Mommy.” (He called me “Mama” when he was little.)
- I called my late mother “Mommy” when I was a little kid.
- To me, the most impressive “I’m here Mommy!” photo here in this here entire post is that of the shy white-and-tiger kitty, Harley, who is so skittish I wonder what happened with his mommy and others in his life, during the two years before he communicated “I’m here Mommy!” straight to my heart in a local adoption shelter.
What music is saying “I’m here” to me, in the moment?
Feel free to let me know “I’m here!” by leaving a comment below for this proud Mommy.
Many thanks to Karen, Faxy, Aaron, Michael, Captain Carl, Elaine Stritch, Penny the Pen, my ex-business partner Jonathan (who took the fabulous photo of the little kid with the aardvark), my patients, mommies (and non-mommies) everywhere, and all those who say “I’m here!” as best they can, including you (of course!).