To keep me on my toes, my writing coach asked we write a short about our worst day and best day. I opted to look at the actual day –being the contrarian I am, and see it from both perspectives.
The number one movie of the week deals with Twisters, but reality pulls you in so many more directions. This week should be happy –and it is. My son turns twenty-five. Three of my children are moving into apartments at three different locations. The one living in Chicago is driving here next week, all good things, all growing up moments and I realize,
The number one movie of the week deals with Twisters, but reality pulls you in so many more directions. This week should be happy –and it is. My son turns twenty-five. Three of my children are moving into apartments at three different locations. The one living in Chicago is driving here next week, all good things, all growing up moments and I realize,
I’ve been blessed with a cocoon against the passage of time that is finally breaking open.
It is a bandade being ripped –as I catch a glimpse of my no longer skunk stripe but mostly salt and pepper hair. Time roars and I want to roar back, because I am not ready. Not ready for them to leave, not ready to not see their faces every day and it’s a grief I’ve held the luxury of ignoring for years thanks to Covid, cancer, and a bad economy.
The reality of my own selfish heart likewise agitates my spirit. I don’t want them to leave and I don’t want to be old, and my heart casts about for something to hold onto –a ground that feels solid and steady. Finances, financial aid, physicals, wisdom teeth pulled, driving lessons, all these things scheduled for the week –they pile up, threaten and loom bigger than the dishes or the laundry that eats up precious summer time that could be spent being present.
I want the slower time I knew when it seemed like summer held endless promise of popsicles, pools and library books.
Despite everything, blessings abound. There is nothing I truly need, though I know there’s a list of things to do with at least fifty mini-tasks included.
However, the key to joy is not activity, inactivity, or even people. It’s gratitude.
So I look at my list and count the blessings that surround and permeate all the tasks.
Task #1) Get currency, socks, and mini snacks.
Why: My eighth flies to Italy tomorrow. She’ll be in Milan, Rome, Venice and my favorite city, Florence. I’m excited for her. Which reminds me.
Task #2) Fill out Passport form. Mine’s lapsed and it’s a get around to task I’ve just not. I promised this year I’d do one thing a week as a form of self care and this week, this is it.
That leads me to Task #3. Haircut.
My husband and I have a date to see Styx and Foreigner in concert in Virginia. My summer coif is looking shaggy and bedraggled even after brushing. I’d like to look a little more polished.
Task #4) Home Depot: Ant traps, steel stakes and netting for the vegetables. Those fawns are camping out in our back yard, hoping to have lunch. Our garden sparkles with red cherry tomatoes and sunchoke flowers taller than my husband can reach. I need to protect them.
Task #5) The alarm goes off. Time to walk the hills and get Paul from the bus. Our youngest son watches Godzilla movies and stops the closed caption to write the words down so he can use them. He used his communication device to ask Alexa to play his favorite Disney songs while he showered.
These signs of his reading, understanding and being able to shape the world around him continue to stun us. That he will turn sixteen this fall likewise seems impossible to fathom. When he was born, our oldest had just started high school.
Task #6) Signed him up for his annual cardiologist appointment. Make sure he takes his evening medicine for his ear.
Task #7) Need another gift for the table for second son’s birthday. Will take him out to pick it up. He wants a bike rack for the car –but it doesn’t have a trailer hitch so we will need to be choosy. Opted instead for gift card so he can pick the one he wants.
Task #8 and #9) Tonight we will feast on steak fajitas and have chocolate chip bananna bread for dessert. (Order for pick up and BAKE). Delegated pick up to oldest son, and baking to fifth.
Our twenty-five year old hates cakes –too sweet.
Task #10) Husband will help me though with the creating of peach jam. I have thirty peaches to pit and peel before the end of the day, and our children who are leaving can take some for their new apartments.
There are more tasks, more people to love, more ways to show we care and are thinking of them –all measured in minutes, mindfulness, and memories. However, to keep my sainity, I don’t let the list go over ten until some of the ten are done. Still, my cup overflows. Thank you God, thank you God, thank you God.
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