A funny thing happened to me on the way to the keyboard….
Ummm, long time no see!
So, uh, cold enough for ya?
Crikey! It’s been so long since I’ve been here, I don’t remember how to think or write. (Okay, you’re rolling your eyes and saying, “And this is new how?”, right?)
I did make a cameo appearance on election day or thereabouts. Otherwise, it’s been up to Susan to keep the clothesline from drooping into the frosted-over leaves out back.
The clothes poles never did get painted this summer. The shed is even more ramshackle than last year at this time. The pears and apples and plums I couldn’t reach from the ground froze on their high-hanging branches. There will be no jam, no applesauce this year. Friends gathered to cut back David’s gardens for me. I took care of the tea roses and the butterfly bush myself. The pond is covered with the Styrofoam form David crafted to insulate it, and over that lies a brand new slab of plywood a friend brought to replace the rotting OSB that’s done the job for one too many years. There’s firewood on the patio for David’s pet wood stove, and the new doors he wanted have all been installed.
And so, here we are in the place between. Not quite finished with autumn, not yet fully winter. Brother Garry has recovered again from abdominal surgery, but is not quite ready to leave here for his own home. Everyone seems to be second-guessing a man who’s won’t be president until January. There’s a kind of breath-taking thing going on with free-falling investments that have just caught a momentary updraft before they tank again. And so it goes. Click here for more.
Ups and downs, ins and outs, beginnings and endings. The stuff of all our lives. But I’m going to stay personal about Thanksgiving because…oh, I don’t know. Just because.
I am thankful for my aging body that withstands the abuses I heap upon it. An amazing, fleshy machine, really.
I am thankful for my Aunt Joan in Peoria (yes, people really do live in Peoria). She is aging, too, moving toward the finish line faster than I am, I believe. We are too far apart geographically to be much help to each other now.
I am thankful for my kids. They’re adults, actually. But it would only be confusing to say I’m thankful for my early middle-agers. They stepped to that old plate in ways I could never have imagined they would be willing to during David’s illness, after his death, and then *snap* into Garry’s medical mess. Who loves ya, babies?
I am thankful for the chickadees because I know they’ll stick around all winter. Oh, there are others, but the chickadees are so very small.
I am thankful for Barack Obama, because (his detractors notwithstanding) he represents hope that has been in such short supply for eight grueling years.
I am thankful for my friends – our friends – who have been steadfast and loving all year long.
I am thankful for Caribou Coffee. (Yes, I am that shallow.)
I am thankful for my brother. The guy who listens intently each night as I read to him from “The Magic Treehouse” books, and then excuses himself to go to bed. Each night, he pauses at the top step, looking down, waiting. And I say each night, “Would you like me to tuck you in?” And he says, “Yes, please.” And so I do. And he flashes me one of his megawatt smiles and we know that we are fine with each other.
I am thankful for medical practitioners, however imperfectly they deal with cancer. They keep trying – most of them with immense compassion and skill.
I am thankful for the life of David. Most of what I know about the out-of-doors, about patience, kindness, environmental responsibility, about endurance I learned from him. He will be in my heart forever.
I am thankful for the possibility that hearts heal eventually.
I am thankful that you come here, read what we have to say, and keep coming back. Even when we’re seriously random, which is much of the time.