I’m still tying up loose ends in this moving process—we’re going on two solid weeks now what with the stomach flu flattening all four of us for days at a time—and I had a surprisingly delightful phone conversation with a tele-com worker while I was getting my electric switched over to the new place. It was in the middle of the day, so the boys were running all over the place, screaming and yelling and what not, and she said that she understood if I needed to pause the conversation, because she knew what it was like to have two little ones in diapers. I laughed and asked her if she had twins too. She replied that no, but hers were only fifteen months apart, both set to be due right around Valentine’s Day, somehow. (?)
Anyway, her job was to try to get me to bundle cable and internet and what-not, and tell me about all of the discounts I qualified for and so and so, so we chatted about that, and when I answered her that my first three were born at thirty-nine weeks to the day, she shrieked, “You have THREE MORE?!!!! I bow down to you, woman!”, in her nice, friendly, very Southern accent. I didn’t tell her that the first two lived only in memories and pictures now, because we were laughing and it didn’t seem right, but I appreciated the acknowledgment and respect anyway, especially at this time of the year, with Kaylee’s death in March and Ethan’s in April.
We talked and laughed through the rest of the questions she had to ask me, and at the end of it, she told me that I had brightened her day. Surprised and humbled, I told her I felt the same. She added that she takes calls from all over the country, but Pennsylvanian’s take the cake for rudeness and nastiness in her experience, so this was a nice surprise for her. I told her I wasn’t surprised, it has been my experience too—mean and dumb! We got off the phone laughing, and I made sure to ask her name because this was certainly a conversation to remember, and she even gave me her middle name to boot.
Amy Jo From Kentucky and you don’t get more Southern than THAT.