My Love Story

Author's note: Wouldn't you know the last prompt would be a book! Warning - This will be a very small book. 50 minutes times 2 = 100 minutes or one hour and forty minutes. This will take me a while. Almost four times my normal 600-word story.

Natalie Goldberg’s Writing Down the Bones Deck prompts — Tell your story of love. Go for fifty minutes.

My aunt wrote a story about loving her mother. My grandmother, whom I knew until I was seven years old. My Grandma Annie Fairbanks was great. She worked downtown Minneapolis at a bakery and came home with day-old bakery items each evening, which I often got to enjoy.

We lived in an apartment above my grandparents. Grandma and Grandpa spoke the Ojibwe language fluently, even though they never taught their children or grandchildren. You do pick up a thing or two when the language is spoken in your house, though.

My aunt explained how Grandma was born out of wedlock, which wasn't looked upon favorably, and she didn't know her father until after he had already died. Her stepfather came into her life at age three, and he sexually molested her.

At age eight, my grandma went to boarding school in Morris. Minnesota. She was there for six years without going home. Shortly after finishing her elementary education, she entered Flandreau Boarding School, where, besides academics, she learned cooking, sewing, and housekeeping tasks.

She married my Grandfather when he returned from World War I, and his service in the Army. She had met him prior to his going into the service. They had ten children, and my mother was the youngest girl. I loved all my aunties as they were all my mothers in the Anishinaabe way.

They all taught me and loved me, and cared for me. They were all kind, loving, patient, and sharing, and women with high Anishinaabe values. Visitors were made welcome with warm, gentle, and caring ways. We were taught to feed our company and, at a minimum, offer them something to eat and drink.

They respected all living things, gave advice like only take what you need, you can always go back for more if need be. They had big gardens and used rainwater to water them. No wasting anything. Not water, even leftover oatmeal. My mother would place that in fried potatoes with onions.

Mom never complained. My oldest aunt had fourteen children, my mom six. The other aunts had five and eight children. They had six brothers, for a total of ten siblings for my Grandma and Grandpa to feed and clothe. My mother always had shoes, as they would get one pair of shoes each year.

Because she shared a bed with her sisters, she always made sure there were plenty of beds when we were growing up.

I grew up with a loving, caring mother in my house with aunties that we visited frequently, or they visited us. My Grandfather moved in with us after my dad died. He was with my mom until he was dead weight and she had to move him to nursing care.

My dad's death was very difficult for me, and the difficulty continues at times. Not as much as earlier life, but in smaller ways. He fell off a building and died on my birthday. My birthday month is difficult because of that, even though I celebrate all month rather than on that day.

Because he fell off a roof, my husband going on the roof is scary to me. I get anxious until it is over. I think I stop breathing correctly until the ladder is hung up.

When others talk about their dad, I feel envious and sad that my dad had to die when I was so young. I helped my mother with my siblings after my dad died and took on that role as though they were my children, too.

I got married at age 17, and I loved my husband and his family as I knew them before I met my husband, as he was just returning from the Navy when I met him. His brother was one of my better friends, and at the time, his brother was dating my best friend.

I thought it was pretty cool that he was interested in me, and once we started our relationship, we were not apart, other than school and work. He was a hard worker and a hard drinker, and a partier. We had a party house as I finished high school, and then a party house when I was in college.

I loved this man, and we didn't have children until I turned twenty-one and twenty-four. By this time, it became important to me that we settle down to raise our children, and he couldn't, but did the best he could. I loved him, but I came to a point where I couldn't live with him. Maybe if we hadn't had children.

When we divorced, we were both married within a few years of our divorce. He had another child. I had a stepson that I helped raise as he was twelve when I came into his life. I loved my second husband, and I was surprised that I could love another like that.

We raised our children together, and once they were grown and out of the home, we didn't know what to do with ourselves. He was supposed to go back to school while I supported us, but that didn't happen. He accused me of only marrying him to raise my children. That was part of it, but I did love him. He found someone else prior to him saying that.

He moved to another state, and I moved on. We are both happily remarried. He helped another raise her three children. We are friends on Facebook, and I was able to apologize to him for my part in the breakup of our marriage. I realized that when there is conflict or trouble that I get busy and ignore what is going on, or don't have any time to deal with it.

Husband number three is my charm. Together, we had seven children. They are all adults. They were adults when we married, with the youngest being eighteen. We have been together for 25 years now. We have been married for 20 years with an anniversary in December.

We have recovery, love of family, American Indian humor, and love of motorcycles, the woods, and water in common. He is my best friend, and I am his. I love that he talks to his kids every week, and he is the very best grandfather. The grands all love him. I love him!

When I got into recovery myself, I told my sponsor I didn't like anyone at those meetings. She said, I didn't have to like anyone, but I had to love everyone. I thought she was crazy, but I tried what she suggested and it worked.

She said, sitting there, look at every person at the meeting and tell them in your head that you love them. Remember, you don't have to like them to love them. I really can love everyone.

When I go for the water ceremony and pray for the water, I am told that we are praying for everyone then too. Since we all have a large percentage of water, and we are praying for the water, I am praying for everyone, too.

That is the very best I can do for anyone. Love them and pray for them! And I will do this now and for the rest of my life.

Natalie Goldberg’s Writing Down the Bones Deck prompts — At first it's shocking to have so much time, and then it becomes spacious as you move into the subject. Avoid abstract ideas about intimacy-- instead, explore what is really your story. You can do this assignment over and over.

Other good topics that have a slant angle on love? Try writing on these too for fifty minutes:

What I do for love

Just when I thought I had you...

What whispers to you in the night?

What I do for love... I pray for and love my family and friends. Gifts, feed, offer beverages, coffee, tea or water, lemonade, and such. I listen. I am a good listener. I will give advice when asked for it. I support them when going through a rough time. I will cry and laugh with them.

I check in with my children regularly. Not every week, like my husband does. But my daughter lives close and is still raising children, and my youngest son is still raising children, so I probably check in with them more. I cover presents for Christmas and birthdays, graduations, for my three children, while John covers his children and grandchildren.

We have about an equivalent amount of children and grandchildren for a total of seven children, 30 grandchildren, and 13, soon to be 15 great grandchildren. I try to do the same for my sister's children and grandchildren, as she died in 2010.

In recovery, I learned to do something for someone every day without getting caught. Sometimes it is a simple picking up someone else's garbage, other times it is leaving extra money for a tip in the tip cup, when no one is looking. And still other times, it is doing them a favor without their knowing about it.

Talking with everyone, wherever I am, is a loving gesture. I can be kind and have a smile, and I hope to laugh with a stranger. There are lots of ways to show love. It is most difficult with people who don't want your love and even show you hate, without knowing you.

Just when I thought I had you... Because I pray for my children, grandchildren, and great-grandchildren, and other family members, and everyone's family and partners, I always think that they will live happily ever after.

That is my will, but my will isn't always what is meant to happen. It just may not work out for whatever reason. So then I have to adjust my expectations and sometimes choose my child or grandchild. Most often there is a better situation that happens for those persons.

I expected until death do us part with both my first and second marriage, and thought we could make it through anything. That didn't work with husband number one or two. Husband number one died at age 46, from his alcohol and drug addiction.

Husband number two thought he was in love with someone in New Mexico, and he is now living there. Not with the person he thought he loved, but another. I did believe my vows.

Husband number three will tease about the part in the vows where it talks about obeying. He knows that wasn't in our vows, and I know that in sickness and in health was, so when he teases, I am following my vows to keep him in sickness!

I have been with my husband now for the longest and expect to make it until death do us part. So the only way this would fit was that I never thought we would have trouble with politics until he became Republican, after years of being an Independent!

There have been short times when I understood how others could separate and even divorce, or break up due to this alone. So far, we have made it through.

What whispers to you in the night... Every once in a while, I get a word in the Ojibwe language and have to look it up, as I don't remember what it means or even don't ever remember learning that word. A few times, it has been a grandchild's Native name. A grandchild I was thinking about before going to bed. I write those words down.

On occasion, I will think about what I am working on, whether a book I am writing or a presentation I am giving. Sometimes, I am stuck, or don't feel good about what I am doing, then other times I think about what more I have to do to finish my project before my deadline.

This never gets me up out of bed, but it does cause me to stay awake for longer than I like. I am not someone who will normally keep awake in bed. Even when I attempt to watch a favorite television show, I fall asleep before it is over. And many times before, I have even started watching it.

I read a story written about my grandmother by my aunt, who went back to college in her later years. She had 14 children, worked as a nurse most of her professional career, and went back to school.

I remembered hearing she was the oldest student attending the Tribal College and Bemidji State University at the time she was attending. I remember hearing Grandma's story from this auntie.

She talked about my Grandma being a bootlegger when she needed to be. She talked about Grandma doing what had to be done to raise her family, even though it was tough going a lot of times. One of her older children was a bootlegger when I was growing up.

I thought about that and wondered if he helped Grandma to do that. He was epileptic and couldn't attend school as he frightened kids when he had a seizure.

One day, I was taking him to pick up his alcohol, and it was raining so hard that my car made a complete turn around on the highway. When we stopped, I was concerned that it would bring on a seizure. I had witnessed his seizures before.

When I asked if he was okay, he said, "Never mind me, what about my booze?" I had to then stop the car and check on his booze, which was all fine. That experience could whisper to me in the night.

I had an abuse history, and I would occasionally experience a whisper in the night about that when I was younger. That whisper has been resolved, as I did the work needed to resolve it.

I have gotten to the end of these memories, and my time is up...