It is a very cool morning and quite early-barely light, as I write my first words of this day. Some hours, I love more than others . . .morning hours are some of those. I gather my thoughts as I watch the day bloom with light . Hope wells up in my heart like a fountain and there is a sense of well being. The grandeur of a sunrise, humbles me every time. It is just never “old hat”.
I said before, that I had never seen such an early spring-now I say that have never seen such a long one, too! In the south, spring weather is usually a brief affair. . . a few weeks of pleasant days and then it is hot! I am not sure what to make of it-and neither do the irises, nor the privets nor the fireflies, for they are all doing now, what they usually do in mid June. So are the thorned vines. My last diary entry was left as “waiting for the dust to settle” . Some of it has.
It seems that I am soon to be semi retired. I did reach that golden age of 62 in April, after all. This will mean a much tighter budget. . .and God forbid a calamity of any sort arise. I do not mind being frugal. It is about second nature to me. My elders drilled the “sin of wastefulness” in me, til at last it stuck. That ought to come in handy.
I love pretty things as much as the next person, but I do know the difference in want and need. What I do need, is more time with my loved ones, for the grandchildren grow wildly fast. There is my mother, who deserves more than I give her – and my sisters and there is nature . . .and I can afford all of that! Maybe in some odd way, “I hit the “jackpot!”
Now, on the way to that conclusion, a lot happened. My thoughts were muddled and so I cleaned and painted the linen closet. My laundry room got a thorough cleaning. Flower pots got painted and so did the back door. The territory around the rabbitpatch is almost something to brag about. Each completed task seemed like a small victory.
In grief, I do not move. When I am hurt, I sulk. When I am sad, I wallow in my misery and can barely think about supper. . . but worldly concerns, make me work. I suppose everybody that drives by the rabbitpatch knows I have had something on my mind, lately! . .and “lo and behold”, the rabbitpatch looks so happy!
Mothers’ Day was a a happy occasion. Delores, Dana and I spent the night at Mamas’, Connie is a nurse and had to work, so she celebrated early with Mama. Jenny said that Lyla made her a card and put it under her pillow. How, sweet, I thought. Another sweet story is that Tres is back at the rabbitpatch!
Tres finished school and took the summer off to work. How glad I am to have him sleeping under my roof again. Thank Goodness, he had enough gas to get here, for he came on day one of the “shortage”.
Now the work week progressed, without fanfare, which is the best kind of week, to me. Children gather fragrant blossoms along the edge of the woods and hunt for turtles at recess. (none of them would dare even bother a creature, but will sit and watch them, instead.) I have several students that sell fresh eggs and how proud they are of their speckled dozens. I hear stories of new kittens and well mannered dogs are walked by older students daily, on campus. A new puppy came to visit one day. Many students don crowns made of clover, these days. All is not lost, I think. How hopeful, the “heart of a child” can make you. How good it is to think, that no matter how many dire circumstances, that modern man creates . . children still make jewelry from flowers and search high and low, for kittens . . .in months like May.
Time has passed in all sorts of happy ways, since that turbulent week, a fortnight ago. What seemed so impossible, has lost its’ punch. The truth is, I was facing things that I hadn’t any control over the outcomes. We like to think we always “get a say” in all things – and we usually do. We get so used to that feeling that when something, we can not prepare for, pops up, we are shocked-and are liable to be rattled, when it does.
Now it is said that “hindsight is 20/20”. Looking back, what really happened, was simply a change of plans. . .my own plans. Maybe, my plans were not the ones, intended for me . . maybe they were too shallow . .or too lofty. I am choosing to believe, that no matter the reason . . “The Best is yet to come.”