Greetings Readers
Last year, I blogged about a trip that my mother took for the Navajo Nation to the Northwestern part of the United States – to be more specific Seattle, Washington.
I relayed some of the trip details that my mother shared with me to you Readers.
As any child would do I asked that magical question we all ask our parents at one point or another.
“Did you bring me back anything?”
I do not have to tell you what was the answer of that question since I blogged to the Internet world of what the reply was from my Mother.
In between that Seattle trip and when my parents came up and visit my mother took another trip as a representative of the Navajo Nation. This time she went to California. And that was for the first time for my Mother to go to California.
We talked about Charles Lindberg field, the San Francisco Airport near San Jose and Los Angeles International (LAX). We talked about our experiences about the approach of those airports and the areas surrounding those airports. I think she had a nice time, just like I did in the early and mid nineties.
Flashback – I blogged on what I felt at the time when my Mother gave me my “gift” from the Seattle trip.
Present. After that and before this blog I told my Mother how I felt and that I actually wrote to my blog Readers on my feelings on that “gift” I got from her.
Apparently, my Mother never forgot what I said about what I felt. Well, that is given – What I mean is that Mothers tend to never forget the things that that need to remembered.
When my parents came up to Colorado at the end of March my Mother brought me a bag that she had got for me during her trip to California.
In the bag was my gift, well my gifts, from that trip. I got a Temecula pull over and a San Diego cap. Both are very fucking beautiful. And in the bag was the receipt for the purchases.
Readers, I want to make it clear that I was never truly mad at the gift I got from her Seattle trip. But, when I told her that I blogged about my gift to my Readers I think that she was taken back (perhaps hurt) that I would tell my Readers what my Mother gave me and the story behind that gift.
That was not my intention to make my Mother upset if she was upset. I joked about the Seattle gift, but overall I was still happy that I got a gift. I think that whenever I go down to New Mexico I usually bring a gift to my parents and brother. So, when I told my mother that I really did tell you Readers of my gift and how I felt she felt kind of bad. But again Readers, I was looking for a gift, but not a gift.
I love my Yellow San Diego cap. After all, on my Camero car key ring the only key ring I have is a San Diego key chain. I love the pull over and matter of fact, so do my friends. One friend wants to knock me out and take my pullover (jokingly, of course).
These two gifts more than make up for the gift from Seattle. And no Readers – I fucking did not say that to my Mother. Although, I knew that she knew that I knew that more than made up for that Seattle gift she got for me.
Until the next time
Daryl Charley
The Fallen Athlete
Last year, I blogged about a trip that my mother took for the Navajo Nation to the Northwestern part of the United States – to be more specific Seattle, Washington.
I relayed some of the trip details that my mother shared with me to you Readers.
As any child would do I asked that magical question we all ask our parents at one point or another.
“Did you bring me back anything?”
I do not have to tell you what was the answer of that question since I blogged to the Internet world of what the reply was from my Mother.
In between that Seattle trip and when my parents came up and visit my mother took another trip as a representative of the Navajo Nation. This time she went to California. And that was for the first time for my Mother to go to California.
We talked about Charles Lindberg field, the San Francisco Airport near San Jose and Los Angeles International (LAX). We talked about our experiences about the approach of those airports and the areas surrounding those airports. I think she had a nice time, just like I did in the early and mid nineties.
Flashback – I blogged on what I felt at the time when my Mother gave me my “gift” from the Seattle trip.
Present. After that and before this blog I told my Mother how I felt and that I actually wrote to my blog Readers on my feelings on that “gift” I got from her.
Apparently, my Mother never forgot what I said about what I felt. Well, that is given – What I mean is that Mothers tend to never forget the things that that need to remembered.
When my parents came up to Colorado at the end of March my Mother brought me a bag that she had got for me during her trip to California.
In the bag was my gift, well my gifts, from that trip. I got a Temecula pull over and a San Diego cap. Both are very fucking beautiful. And in the bag was the receipt for the purchases.
Readers, I want to make it clear that I was never truly mad at the gift I got from her Seattle trip. But, when I told her that I blogged about my gift to my Readers I think that she was taken back (perhaps hurt) that I would tell my Readers what my Mother gave me and the story behind that gift.
That was not my intention to make my Mother upset if she was upset. I joked about the Seattle gift, but overall I was still happy that I got a gift. I think that whenever I go down to New Mexico I usually bring a gift to my parents and brother. So, when I told my mother that I really did tell you Readers of my gift and how I felt she felt kind of bad. But again Readers, I was looking for a gift, but not a gift.
I love my Yellow San Diego cap. After all, on my Camero car key ring the only key ring I have is a San Diego key chain. I love the pull over and matter of fact, so do my friends. One friend wants to knock me out and take my pullover (jokingly, of course).
These two gifts more than make up for the gift from Seattle. And no Readers – I fucking did not say that to my Mother. Although, I knew that she knew that I knew that more than made up for that Seattle gift she got for me.
Until the next time
Daryl Charley
The Fallen Athlete
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