Letting Go

 

      I’ve said good bye to many things this past year, as we all have due to the pandemic.  I think what I miss most is the routine of the weekdays.  Since I was (still am) unable to work as Hillary has no day program to attend, we have no set routine like we did when I had to get her ready to leave the house either for the bus or to drop her off before I went to work.  I miss the routine of finding a parking space, and saying “good morning” to my coworkers, then rushing through errands after work and getting home in time to change, knock back a cup of coffee, and welcome Hillary home.  There is no reason for rushing now, no sense of urgency to my time.  It was nice at first, now it makes for a long day.  I miss how things were, but I doubt I will be doing all that again.  Things are and will be different; it’s one of life’s adjustments.

               In addition to saying good bye to coworkers, I lost my Aunt Audrey and my brother Dan; we laid their ashes to rest this month, my aunt with many of my cousins present, and my brother with just my remaining brothers and our children and spouses gathered at the grave.  I have yet to delete either one of them from my contact list on my iPhone.  I just can’t bring myself to do it.  It’s hard to say goodbye to people who are important in our lives, people we have spent our whole lives loving and knowing were there in the background most of the time, but still there. I have pictures and my memories of them, but if you’ve ever lost anyone you understand it’s just not the same as having them here on Earth somewhere.  I will miss having the possibility of seeing or speaking with my aunt ever again and sending her cards, I will forever miss my brother at the Thanksgiving table because we always were seated next to each other.  I miss his sense of humor and his intelligence, and reminiscing about our childhood with him.  He was a gentle soul.

               We all have dreams that we have to let go of, and ones that have to be altered.  My childhood dream was to be an artist.  I loved painting, drawing, working with clay and doing crafts, and thought I was going to go to art school when I grew up.  I remember one year for Christmas I got a table top easel, a huge set of watercolor paints and brushes, and watercolor paper.  I spent many hours painting landscapes and pictures of the sky.  I also had pastels and charcoal pencils and a sketch pad. I loved drawing horses, learning how from a book, and I used to look out my bedroom window at my little desk and sketched what I saw.  There was a little wooden shed across the street and I remember sketching that.  I wish I still had those pictures, but once I grew up, they were put aside and eventually discarded.  My dreams changed from being an artist to other pursuits such as getting married and starting a family.  I still sketch from time to time, and every once in a while go to a paint and sip event.  I still enjoy playing at being an artist; it keeps me in touch with that childhood dream.

               Life changes, and changes us in the process.  The things that happen around us help shape who we are, and to some extent how we are.  I think our memories and feelings of nostalgia enable us to remember how we were and how far we’ve come.  Saying “so long” to the past and reaching for the future moves us through our lives which always seems to me to be bittersweet.

Love Of Reading

 

    Here's an eclectic little collection of some of the books I have.  Three were written by my younger brother, a few are by people I count among my friends.  The small books were given to me either by my daughter or a friend who moved away several years ago, and of course there are a few Dr. Seuss just for fun!

               I know I’ve said it before, but I love reading.  The one good thing about the pandemic and staying home is that I have had lots of time for reading books!  Since the library reopened, I’ve been able to take out stacks of books to enjoy; before I got my new glasses I was taking out the large print editions because it was straining my eyes so much with the old prescription.  My new glasses mean I can read any size print without getting a headache or blurry vision from eye strain.  I don’t like audio books, I prefer to put my own spin on the words, hear the character’s voices in my head and not someone else’s interpretation.  I also prefer turning actual paper pages, so I’m not a fan of reading on a screen.  Although, when Hillary was hospitalized for a month last fall I read a lot on my phone.  You can’t really cart a bag of books around the hospital when you’re caring for a loved one who is quite ill and gets moved from one department to another with some frequency.  So reading on my phone was better than nothing while she was sleeping in between doctors and nurses trying to heal her.  I have some favorite authors who I go back to from time to time, sometimes rereading books because I enjoy them so much.  I also like to try new authors, and occasionally a new genre.  Sometimes I learn something new, or get a new perspective on things.

               Recently I read an older book about 500 years of American history.  It began with how people first appeared on the North American continent.  The most surprising thing I learned was that there was such a thing as giant beavers!  I never heard of them before, they roamed the continent from Florida to Alaska along with mastodons and sabre tooth tigers during the ice age.  They know this because of bones archeologists found.  I had no idea, and when I told my husband, he was not surprised and immediately found a picture of them online, as if it was something he looked up every day.  It seems as if they were about the size of one of our current black bears.  What I found frightening is imagining how large and sharp their teeth would be, and what large dams they would build.  Can you imagine the size of their flat, wide beaver tails?  Wow! The rest of the book didn’t offer much insight into anything else it discussed—the kidnapping of the Lindbergh baby, JFK’s assassination, the disappearance of Amelia Earhart, and the story of the Mayans among other mysteries of history.  It was interesting and nice to step away from my usual diet of murder mysteries. 

               Currently I’m reading a book that was my mother’s.  It’s “James Herriot’s Dog Stories”, a collection of his short stories having to do with dogs he encountered in his veterinary practice in Darrowby, England.  It’s a book I’ve read before, and it’s a comfortable positive group of stories that is perfect with my morning tea at the beginning of the day.  I’m also working my way through “The Pen Commandments” by Steven Frank, which is a guide for beginning writers but I’m using it as a nice way to review basic grammar and writing techniques.  It’s not as dry as a text book as he illustrates his points with stories from his classroom and students.  It’s good to pick up when I have a few minutes.  I have a book in my next to be read pile that I just bought, it’s a thriller by an author I am unfamiliar with—Paula McLain—and the title is “When the Stars Go Dark”. I can’t wait to have time to start it, maybe this afternoon.  I love the delicious anticipation of a new book to read!

               Reading has always been a pleasure for me, and a favorite way to spend some free time.  Losing myself in a book is also like a little vacation for my mind and a great way to step away from some of the everyday worries we all seem to have as our constant companions. With nice weather finally here, I can combine it with spending time outside—perfect!

        Some flowers I planted in pots, and my little collection of garden friends that I keep on the shelf on the deck rather than in a garden since we garden in pots because it's less work.  Yup, a little lazy here!  I like to relax on the deck with a book and a cool drink on hot summer afternoons.

May and Mom

 

         Here it is the middle of May already! This year the months seem to be flying by at breakneck speed.  This month is busier for me than I’ve been in a year.  We had Mother’s Day, we’ll end with Memorial Day, and in between I have 2 funerals to attend, (first for my aunt who passed earlier this year, and second for my brother who passed last June---dying in the pandemic doesn’t lend itself to gathering together in a timely manner to celebrate the life of a loved one), and my niece’s college graduation which will be live streamed so friends and family might watch.  So, there are a mix of good and sad events; a bittersweet month.  It is also the month my father passed 24 years ago, and my mother’s birthday. It is on my mother’s birthday that we will be celebrating the life of my aunt, her sister, who was the last of the 7 siblings to go.  I’d say, though, that overall the focus this month is on Mother’s Day.

         When I think of my mother I think of her shoes.  My mother always wore loafers for every day running around whether it was doing chores around the house or walking to the store for bread, milk, and the daily newspaper, or playing a game of softball with us kids.  For church and things such as PTA meetings she wore low dressy heels, and later when she returned to the work force she wore the heels as well.  She didn’t wear sneakers, as far as I can remember, until I had moved out and started building my adult life, when she took up walking for exercise.  When I see a pair of loafers it takes me back to my childhood, and one particular softball game.

         We lived across from the “new” elementary school which featured a large field in front with a crushed white stone path running down one side of it for all the kids in our end of the neighborhood to get to the school.  It is in this field, usually as the sun began to set in the summer, that we had our little family softball games. My 3 brothers, my mom and dad and I were all the players.  I remember it as being fun and laughing a lot.  This one particular time my mother was in the outfield and one of my brothers hit the ball into the air and it landed on my mother’s face, knocking the lens out of her glasses.  It must not have been hit very hard because I just remember my mother laughing, holding her hand over her eye and looking down saying that she lost her lens.  I’m sure that was the end of the game and we retired to the porch for glasses of her good homemade lemonade, (a pitcher of which was always in the refrigerator during the summer), after my father put the lens back in place.  We had so much fun together, and my mother wore her loafers through it all.

         I think that the greatest gift my parents gave me is the ability to laugh, and happy childhood memories. In May, and especially on Mother’s Day, I like to remember those good days.  Some of my favorite family pictures are ones in which my mother is laughing.  That’s how I remember her, always.  

This is my favorite photo of my family, taken the Easter before my first child was born, although it is absent my husband.  My sister-in-law is to the left of my mother, my 3 brothers and I on the right and my father in the chair. My brother who passed last year is the tall one on the right. I love this because we are all obviously laughing at something, probably a smart alecky comment one of us made.  My mother is full out laughing.