Our blog has moved!

You should be automatically redirected in 1 second. If not, visit
http://www.stifffamily.com
and update your bookmarks.

Sunday, January 2, 2011

And We're Home

We spent the entire Christmas vacation scurrying around from one house to another, one store to another, one meal, well you get the point. We're all a little worn out. We're all a little ready to be in our own beds. The first sign would be that the three year old who screamed every night for the last two weeks about going to bed is sound asleep right now.

We had a blast. I'll post more later. Right now, there is something I can't get off my mind. Bare with me...

On New Year's Day, I went with my mom to one of her favorite stores. It's a little boutique in the middle of Marshall County. She literally bumps into twenty people she knows wherever we go. This place was tiny. The clothes were a bit pricey considering they were saying EVERYTHING IS HALF OFF. It wasn't. I could totally sue them for false advertisements on WPSD but I that's a story for another day. Mom was chatting people up. She found a scarf that I had to have. It is cute. It was a good price so I got in line. I had been standing in said line for a LONG TIME. I was looking at my watch. I was listening to the lady in front of me trying to return, exchange, get credit to get... all that. I hear Mom say, "Brandi's here." She pointed at someone in the line. I waved and smiled and turned around. This happens everywhere. I thought it was just another of her friends. Then I hear the sweet lady say, "Do you remember Lindsey Tyler?" What she really said was, "Lindsey and Tyler." I smiled, turned and waved at two absolutely gorgeous young ladies. I paid. I grumbled. I left.

That lady who was speaking to me... she was my old cheerleading coach. She was who I considered to be the nicest person in my life when I was a junior in high school. Let's just say, that wasn't a great year for me. I was caught somewhere between trying and failing to rebel against my parents, growing up and finding myself. It's not a good place. That was the year my dad's health started failing. That was the year my grandmother died. That was the year I got a car and acted like an absolute idiot. All. The. Time. I probably owe my mother another apology now that I'm thinking about it. Through all this, this sweet lady was there if I needed anything no matter how stupid I was. She was even nice to me after I broke up with her younger brother in the middle of the prom. I was that evil. I'm sorry. I probably owe him an apology too though I'm quite certain he's sure he's better off.

My coach's little girls, Lindsey and Tyler, were at every cheerleading practice. I loved those girls like they were my little sisters. They were the cutest little things. I remember the week they had chicken pox. I remember wanting to treat them like little dolls. They are all grown up now.

Do you know I walked out of that store without saying another word to her. I had no idea who she was. I was so absorbed in waiting, worrying about leaving the girls at home, trying to sneak out without anyone seeing that I didn't bother to fix my hair, I didn't speak. I want to shoot myself right now.

I don't hug people. I would have hugged her. I don't make small talk often, I would have been genuinely interested to hear about her family and tell her about my girls. I can't believe I didn't speak. It's haunting me. Seriously, haunting me. Mom can't remember her husband's name. I can't find her on Facebook. I know there are a few people in Graves County who occasionally look at this. There really can't be that many young women named Tyler in Graves County. So....

If you know the coach of the Junior Varsity Cheerleaders in Graves County in the early 90's... I hate to say her name just because people are weird about the internet. If you know me and email me, I'll tell you. I googled her. I tried to email her and apology but I would sincerely like to say I'm sorry. If you know her and how to get in touch with her, please, let me know or send her a link ;)

No comments:

Post a Comment