Wednesday, December 7, 2011

A Tale of Two Forks, Only it's One Fork, & it's Mine

I have this fork. There is only one.

Yunno the strange, obsessive compulsive, "quirky" things that we do when no one else is looking? Don't lie. I know you know.

Well, there's this fork.  It was Gram's fork. I didn't have the standard grandmother/granddaughter relationship with Gram because there was a portion of my life where she actually served as a parental unit.

I grew up in her house, eating from her dishes, and some of my happiest memories of her were in that kitchen. I miss her. I don't know why or how, but I have one of Gram's forks. It is different that any other fork in my house.

And it's not even that noticeable because it's similar to the others, and I have some mismatched silverware. But it's there. And when I set the table at night, if my hand comes out of the drawer holding that fork, I always set it on my own plate.

~*~ ~*~ ~*~

I am a considerably energy sensitive person. I get gut feelings that are right on the money. I have dreams, and then sit and watch them unfold in my day. I have answered questions that I heard asked of me only to surprise the inquisitor because they hadn't actually asked the question out loud, yet.

It's not a constant or consistent thing, but I definitely have my moments.

Mister is also remarkably sensitive. I own a set of ESP cards. There's 5 symbols (square, circle, star, triangle, wavy lines), and 5 cards of each symbol, totaling 25 cards (At least I think that makes sense). In a relaxed atmosphere, and when he's in the mood to do it (that part is essential), he can "guess" 23 of 25 correctly. No joke.

He and the boys used to sit on the front porch and guess what color the next car coming down the road would be. Which brings me to my youngest boys, Short, and Shorter.

Mister taught them, when they were three or four years old, to play the game Memory. But he taught them to look through the cards. I used to sit and giggle as I would watch those boys lean over the spread out, upside down cards, holding their little hands up to their eyes, mimicking binoculars, and "looking through the cards."

Short did well, but Shorter was amazingly good at that game. So much so that Short soon refused to play anymore.

Short, however, is the kid that plucks thoughts from my head. Many times I've sat by myself, thinking about going somewhere or doing something, and he'll walk over to me and just start talking about what I'm thinking. It's just too regular to be coincidence anymore.

~*~ ~*~ ~*~

I was cooking dinner the other night, and had about four different things coming together at the same time, so I asked Shorter to set the table. He gathered all the dishes and silverware, and started setting a place for each of us.

I start setting things down on the table, and as I turn to walk away, I hear Short say to Shorter, "Here," setting his fork on Shorter's plate and picking up the one that was there, "I want the special fork."

"Why do YOU get the special fork? And what's so special about it anyway?" replied Shorter.

"I don't know why it's so special, but it's the only one in the house that's like this, and I get it cause I called it," said Short.

~*~ ~*~ ~*~

I could only scratch my head. I have never told anyone about my fork.

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