I've always been rather a klutz, it's just the way I am. Usually, I laugh at the silly things I do, like slipping out of my manual wheelchair at a party when I was drunk; or, falling off of the GoTrain because someone told me to go out the wrong way; or, almost drenching someone at the table next to me on a restaurant's patio because I accidentally burp as I take a swig of beer.
Should I go on? Maybe another time ....
One thing that has always upset me, though, especially as a child, and that is when I accidentally break something. I remember crying and feeling terribly guilty over what I had done. My mother would hug me and say, "Annie, those are just things. Don't waste your time getting upset over that. People are more important than things."
For the most part Mom was right. Inanimate, material objects don't hold a candle to flesh and blood people.
And yet, the TV that Rob watched before he died sits, unplugged, in the other room. I tried to give the TV to my friend Leon, but I kept getting panic attacks and backed out of the deal. Leon understood, of course.
Yesterday, Simone brought Mom's kitchen table and chairs over to my place.
And Mom's armoir too.
People are more important than things, it's true. And yet, certain things hold fond memories inside of them and make you feel happy.