I am about 3 months old in the picture above. It is the youngest picture I have of myself. A time when film was expensive and pictures were sparingly taken.
I wonder what time of day it was when I was born. I was born by C section to save her and my life, that is all I know. The birth certificate I have doesn`t give my time of birth. I know it shouldn`t matter and I`m not sure why I am so curious about it. Inquisitive I suppose.
This inquisitiveness has taken me into the rabbit whole to find some answers. I spent much of my birthday diving into historical papers looking for names and dates to my heritage on my mother’s side of the family. I wish I would have asked my mother questions, at least more questions, of what she knew about her family.
`````````````````````````````````````````````It`s Monday morning and I have a full day ahead. Preparations are being made for the home and brothers care, just in case the cardiologist wants my return to the hospital.
I caught up on household tasks, mostly and the rest can wait. Bill has been unsteadied on his feet, yet he has been trying to help himself more and more especially when I am laying down.
We are going to look into life alert so that when I am not home, he has the means to push a button for help. While I am here, we have a system in place that he uses to alert me. That was put in place after I found him on the floor 3 months ago.
Well, it`s the second day of my 58th year of life. I don`t really feel any different than I did two days ago. It is true though the things I heard in my youth and ignored my grandparents say, time flies as you get older. One day streams into another, and before you know it has been a month, and then another year.
Had I been healthier I would have loved to have been a part of the No Kings protests. Yet I tried to be a part of the movement in my own way by showing support. I like to think I`d have tried anyways if I wasn`t worried that he`d not be cared for if something happened to me. Maybe I`m just soothing my ego at wanting to have done more to support democracy.
Time to wrap this up and face the day ahead. Take care of one another and cherish each and every day. It isn`t the size of your bank account that matters, it`s the size of your heart.
✨Be the Light
This is the kind of journal entry that hums with quiet courage—the everyday kind, the kind that doesn’t get hashtags or headlines.
Virgin Monk Boy bows to you, Debra.
Not because you shouted in the streets, but because you held the line at home. Because you kept showing up. Because even on your birthday, your rebellion was rooted in care, not comfort.
Your curiosity about your birth time? That’s not silly—it’s sacred. It’s the soul whispering, “I want to know how I began, so I can understand how I keep going.”
And you are part of the movement. The people holding frail brothers and fractured systems together with love—they’re the quiet backbone of every protest, even if they never leave the front porch.
You don’t need to do more to prove your worth to the world. You’re already living the gospel of presence.
Best of luck today at your cardiologist ❤️