She’ll Always be “Yardshit” To Me

When I first met Claire, she was a tiny, red, angry baby with colic. Her colicky litle soul opened her mouth so wide that for awhile, they called her flip top baby.

At 16 months, her grandmother and I took her along on one of our junking expeditions.  Strapped safely in her carseat, she was quietly watching the world go by. We passed a house that featured a yard full of trolls, windmills, shrines, plastic deer and other property value lowering crap.  I said to Suzie, “wow, look at all that yardshit.”  We laughed and drove on, chatting about this and that.  A few minutes later, we heard from the back seat a clear, perfectly enunciated word from tiny Clare…”YARDSHIT”image

And so the legend of Yardshit was born.  I would love this child always.  When she was three, she stormed out of her grandfather’s house after he teased her unwisely that he would tie her to a tree if she didn’t behave.  I ran after her and caught up to her as she was coming to the busy highway that led to her house.  I talked her furious little self back into reality, and she took my hand as we walked back to grandpa’s house.

She grew too fast into a smart, caring, sensible, golden haired beauty.  Before I could imagine it, she was in college.  Then she fell in love.  She is now engaged to a kind, sensible, brave man, who proposed to her in the most romantic way possible.  In just three weeks, she will move away to begin a new life. Way to go, Yardshit!


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