A Keeper

This was sent to me as an email — I have simply copied the words here so that I can share them with all of you:

Their marriage was good, their dreams focused.
Their best friends lived barely a wave away.
I can see them now, Dad in trousers, work shirt and a hat;
and Mom in a house dress, lawn mower in one hand, and dish-towel in the other.
It was the time for fixing things: a curtain rod, the kitchen radio,
screen door, the oven door, the hem in a dress. Things we keep.

It was a way of life, and sometimes it made me crazy.
All that re-fixing, re-heating leftovers, renewing;
I wanted just once to be wasteful. Waste meant affluence.
Throwing things away meant you knew there'd always be more.

But when my mother died,
and I was standing in that clear morning light in the warmth of the hospital room,
I was struck with the pain of learning that sometimes there isn't any more.
Sometimes, what we care about most gets all used up and goes away … never to return.
So … while we have it, it's best we love it … and care for it …
and fix it when it's broken … and heal it when it's sick.

This is true for marriage … and old cars …
and children with bad report cards …
dogs and cats with bad hips …
and aging parents … and grandparents.
We keep them because they are worth it,
because we are worth it.
Some things we keep, like a best friend that moved away or a classmate we grew up with.

There are just some things that make life important,
like people we know who are special … and so, we keep them close!

I received this from someone who thinks I am a 'keeper,'
so I've sent it to the people I think of in the same way …
Now it's your turn to send this to those people that are 'keepers' in your life.
Good friends are like stars … you don't always see them, but you know they are always there.