Suni Nelson - Listen While You Can

COPYRIGHT

Copyright Suni Nelson 2019

Cover layout design One of a Kind Covers

Suni Nelson asserts the moral right to be identified as the author of this work.

All rights reserved under International and Pan-American Copyright Conventions. By payment of the required fees, you have been granted the non-exclusive, non-transferable right to access and read the text of this e-book on screen. No part of this text may be reproduced, transmitted, down-loaded, decompiled, reverse engineered, or stored in or introduced into any information storage and retrieval system, in any form or by any means, whether electronic or mechanical, now known or hereinafter invented, without the express written permission of Suni Nelson.

Also available in print.

Contents

FOREWORD

Every parent has a story. Im a parent; I have a story. My parentsOMG!!! Did they have a story!

Ill bet yours do too. I encourage you, if you are able, to listen while you can.

DEDICATION

I would like to dedicate this book to all of my huge and amazing family which, of course, is my inspiration.

Also, this book is dedicated to all the pretty horses that we have known and loved over the years. May your healing spirits be blessed for all eternity.

WRITERS NOTES

W hen I announced to my family that I was writing this book, I got a mixed bag of reactions. They ranged from. really? To Hummmmmm .

My son asked me why. Honestly, I had not considered why. The real, deep in-my-soul answer seemed too big.too hard to explain. All I really knewand struggled with for the better part of twenty yearswas that this book had to be written. Trust me, I asked why too. Why me, mostly. I approached many published authors over the years in hopes they could take my notes and do it for me. Inevitably, they all handed it back and said I needed to write it. There was indeed a very insistent voice inside my soul that would not take no for an answer. Would not take I dont know how to write a book for an answer. I am pretty sure I am ADHDunorganized, terribly forgetful, and totally inept for such a task. It still would not take any of those faults for an answer. Luckily, I ran into Jeff LaFerney, who offered to help and coach the project. The most important thing he did was give me permission to write it with my own voice and from my perspective. Once I actually figured out where and how to start, it seemed to pour out freely. It was still unorganized and a bit like a roaring flood splattering to the high heavens, so putting it all in the right order to where other people might be able to make sense of it was quite a challenge. Honestly, I was very unsure that the right words even existed to describe accurately the people my parents were.

They were complicated, complicating, opinionated, lively, beautiful people that lived with their whole hearts and shared all they had with anyone in their path. Both were way too stubborn not to overcome obstacles that would have buckled most people under such pressure. It just didnt seem right that they could pass by without something of that left behindsomething that could be handed down to their grandkids and great grandkids and friends and acquaintances. And even if you are someone who did not get to know them in life, through this book, I hope you know, now, you are one of those acquaintances blessed by their strong, tenacious, and, above all, loving spirits.

Technically, all the above is what I was thinking when my son asked that question, but articulating it in that moment seemed slightly insurmountable. So, I gave him the short answer. I want to write a book that will get me on the Ellen show one day. Thats the dreamto meet Ellen. So here goes.

INTRODUCTION

I love the days when I could drive down our beautiful country road with all its curves and hills, savoring the views around each corner, the vast farms, fields, and mountain ranges peeking out in the horizon. Cattle and horses graze, often looking up to see who the traveler is thats passing by. We, in our arrogance, may think they dont know who we are, but they know. At least, they know if we are a regular or a newcomer, and in some cases, even know our names.

I drove or road on that road thousands of times. I could almost drive it in my sleep, I think. I remember whizzing down it in excitement, anticipating going to movies, the skating rink, or wherever else it led on any particular day. I also felt the length of it as it seemed endless, trying to get to the hospital, nervous and scared due to some traumatic event or other. Those times I didnt love it so much because it seemed to never end.

On that particular day, a beautiful summer evening, I drove with windows down and the cool mountain breeze blowing through my hair. I loved it. I closed my eyes briefly, reliving many good and bad memories while wondering if I actually could navigate the road without eyesight. The car bounced over a small pothole, shocking my eyes open again. With a smile, I breathed deeply, knowing Lantana Road had a special place in my heart. Little did I know that that particular trip would open my eyes in a completely different way.

Arriving at my old home place, I excitedly exited my vehicle. I grabbed the bags of snacks I had picked up at the Dollar store on the wayyou know, the things you have to have while watching a movie: popcorn, chips, salsa, and of course, a variety of Little Debbie cakes. Those were Daddys favorites. Moms fav would be the popcorn.

I heard voices laughing and chatting long before I entered. I recognized Tims, third born in the family, with his southern cowboy slang saying, Aaaaawe haaaalllleeeeoh hell, or all hell (remains unknown for sure) drawn out unseemingly long, followed by a Ya dont say. My sisters and mom were laughing. I was sorry I missed whatever tale was just told. We always had so much fun when we gathered at the house, as we called it. My siblings and I all had our own homes by then, of course, but the house we grew up in would always be The house.

We gathered there often. Whether it was to watch movies, ride horses, or play music and boogie down, we knew it was going to be a good day. Listening to music and dancing had always been a favorite pastime among us. I learned how to polka around the open kitchen/living room. Larry, the second born, was especially good at the jitterbug. Come to think of it, he was just a really good dancer. Fast-stepping with him was like riding a roller coaster. You hung on and tried not to fall off! Tim was not a slacker in that area either. He was smooth as silk, Mom had said. Momma loved to sing and play her guitar and even had a band off and on throughout the years. Yes, hanging out at home was always fun! Momma and Daddy were the very center of it. On this particular evening, we were watching Titanic .

After we settled down with our snacks of choice, we put the VCR tape in the recorder, and the movie began. My brother, Tim, all 6 4 of him, lay stretched out on the floor with a pillow under his chin. He was that long, tall cowboy that every girl in our little town swooned over. My two sisters, Carolina and Connie, were on the couch with Momma in her rocking chair and Daddy in his recliner. Unfortunately, Larry was not able to be there that day.

One would think that Momma and Daddy had planned out their child baring in perfect fairness. They had 6 kids, 3 boysTony, Larry, and Tim. Then 3 girlsConnie, Carolina, and me. The oldest, dark skinned and black hair just like Daddy, except for the green eyes. The next, fair complexioned and red or light hair just like Momma. And, yes, it went like that all the way to the last. Thats me. Perfectly even. I sometimes wondered how they did that.