Everyone is writing their “30 days of thankfulness” and although I’ve never participated I do have to stop for a moment and write about some people that I am thankful for and owe a debt of gratitude.
You see, I belong to an elite club called “The Inner Circle”. This club is comprised of myself, my two sisters and my two aunts. This group of women who have encircled me have sustained me for 48 years. They have loved me through my buckteeth, through my awkward years when my body had not been notified that my arms and legs were ready for a 6 ft woman even though my body was still in 7th grade. They loved me through countless numbers of no good boyfriends, and through all the really poor decisions I made without their counsel. They have kept me grounded when I’ve start thinking too highly of myself, and have set me straight when I might be veering off in the wrong direction.
They are who I call when I need recipes, have menopause questions, when I’m in trouble, traveling, or feel like sending a scary selfie because I just look really ugly…then I get 4 scary selfies back in return and I don’t feel so badly about myself.
They are the first people I call and send pictures when I fall down or have any type of hurt just because I know we’ll all laugh about it for days.
These ladies are my rock of consistency, they keep me grounded, and their presence will forever be a highlight of my life.
We’ve birthed babies together, buried husbands together, gone through sicknesses together, been to each others weddings together, traveled together, got matching tattoos together 15 years ago before tattoos got really popular, (the tattoo artist called us the housewife gang; we weren’t sure if that was a compliment but we decided it definitely was), cried together, laughed together, shopped together, played big jokes together, and have loved Elvis together.
My mom, (my two aunts sister), died when I was very young. Although tragic and we would love to take that moment back from 1970; I can see how these relationships would have never evolved into what they are today had my mother lived. My two aunts stepped into my mother’s shoes and made my sisters lives and mine, the best it could be having to grow up without our mother. And although I have no biblical reference for this, I just have to believe my mother has also somehow enjoyed the funniness and good times we’ve shared. I like those thoughts because I know if she could have picked anyone to fill her shoes it would be my Aunt Faye and my Aunt Keta.
Our husbands say IC really stands for “Idiot Cult”. We say…well we just start laughing and telling stories.
Even though Thanksgiving is over, I hope my IC always knows I am thankful and forever grateful for all they mean to me. I hope during this Thanksgiving and Christmas season you take time to let those who encircle you know how much they truly mean to you.
We ARE the IC, and we have the tattoo to prove it!