The decision has been made – it is time for us to move on to the next stage of life.
The house will be sold and we shall look for a smaller, rental apartment. It hasn’t been easy coming to this conclusion, and it won’t be easy making the transition, but excitement is part of the equation.
We will be moving back to the city, closer to family, and doctors, and all conveniences.
Now the purge and pack begins.
Acceptance, wisdom, and openness are at my side: three gifts to guide me.
Celebrated 68 years (on this earth) this past weekend with visits from friends and family. Pictured is my husband with our youngest granddaughter. Young and old enjoyed delicious food, laughter, and those precious one-on-one interactions.
“When you sit in silence long enough, you learn that silence has a motion. It glides like water. Its colour is silver. And silence has a sound you hear only after hours of wading inside it. The sound is soft, like flute notes rising up, like the words of glass speaking. Then there comes a point when you must shatter the blindness of its words the blindness of its light.”
Growing up fifth of six kids, I learned that life was chaos and noise. It was where I thrived. Always shared a room, and later, an apartment, and marriage, and my own children, and when finally silence found me, it was shattering. It took a long while for me to appreciate the gift in silence, and like anything in life, I had to learn not to rest there too long.
Balance and moderation. That’s what I seek.
But, oh, I do love silence.
I love this quotation. I feel as if ‘cynicism’ has long been a companion of mine. She creeps into my writing and undermines my sleep. She is overridden, however, by my desire to make a difference.
As a teacher, I had plenty of opportunities to offer hope and substance to my students, but that has changed now. Age and illness have greatly reduced my contact with others. The striving is harder, and yet, just as applicable.
A teacher of mine once said that we are like tuning forks – our vibration, our energy, our attitude influencing those around us.
I keep these words close to mind. A worthy goal for living each day.
The woman in the mirror is flawed
age spots where freckles once sprouted,
streaks of white, peppering former auburn,
inner scars marking discontent.
How then is she expected
to know wholeness?
In days when mind was sharp
self-confidence wobbled;
where spirituality was planted,
self-judgment undermined.
The path to wholeness
pitted with potholes.
How often emotion overrode
common sense, and choices
led her astray, how thick
the mud of guilt she mired in.
Repulsed at her own reflection
she was anything but whole.
Less self-defacing these days
she examines the worn bits
with wry acceptance –
acknowledges the toil.
If wholeness is perfection,
she’s ready to let go.
(Image my own. AI enhanced)
A wren showed up the other day,
heard him before I saw him,
took over the Chickadee nest,
killed the babies and settled in.
Nature is like that.
I witness with horror and awe
the chickadees move on –
reproduction is industry –
I watch the wren couple now
build their nest and sing aloud
Goldfinches love the chase,
yellow darts of joy;
I shoo away the Grackles
bully birds from my angle
but they know I mean no harm
Only the Cooper’s hawk
commands silence
birds scattering in cover of green,
fierce eyes scour the yard –
I cannot look away
Someone’s been digging
in the flower bed,
hibiscus tops disappearing
the gardener outsmarted,
and delighted, at every turn
A bobcat showed up at dusk
prowling the perimeter
the lush offerings tempting
despite the proximity of a house.
Coyote has braved it too
Heat confines me indoors,
sun twinkling off swaying leaves,
humid the breeze that compels them.
Later they’re calling for storms
a tumultuous reprieve
Sunrise and we’ll begin again
routines and surprises
birdsong and animal antics;
me in my chair, mesmerized.
Nature is like that.
(Image my own)
The events of the past few weeks, plus the rain, seemed to have caught up with me. Day’s goal: rest, rest, and more rest.
(Photo mine)
Awakened by a crash just past midnight, I quickly realized my husband was not in bed and had fallen again. It’s the second time in two weeks. He couldn’t get back up.
Paramedics arrived within minutes. Three strapping men had him on his feet again in no time. He was jostled but okay.
I laid awake for hours.
It’s hard not to worry, focusing instead on the good.
This note is to myself. Encouragement to keep moving forward.
We held a garage sale this past Saturday – no small feat for two gimpy old folks. Fortunately, we had help, and as it was a town-wide event, there were many people out.
Still exhausted two days later, but feeling like this squirrel with his treasure – blessed by abundance.
(photo mine)
One Woman's Quest 