Daily Life
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Labor Day
The humidity was heavy in the air this morning, much more pronounced than yesterday. It will be an oppressively hot day, but looking at the calendar, I am mindful that this will change more quickly than I like to believe. The sun is beginning to get that Emily Dickinson “certain slant” to it, and the days and evenings feel slightly different, as though there has been some subtle but great turning — which there has. This earth is moving and tilting in preparation for the months that will bring winter to this hemisphere. When I look at the skies, whether in the blue of day or the pinpricked black of…
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The Only Day
Today marks the ninth anniversary of the day my mother departed this life and went on to the next one. My sister and I chatted about this last night, remembering some of the happy times and some of the not-so-happy times we shared with the stoic, flinty old woman who gave us life and fed us and sheltered us and tried to guide us. I miss you, Mother, and I love you. I hope to see you again when my own time comes to sail into the west. *** It’s still hot here and will reach 90 today and for the remainder of the week, but the mornings have been…
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The Thirteenth of August
Today would have been her 103rd birthday, and her absence these nine years has left a divot on my life’s surface. I miss her, and I am glad she isn’t here to see what has become of her country and her region. Seeing such ugliness would have grieved her tough, hidden old heart. Her middle name was Viola, which she hated. I always loved it, thinking it had a Southern literary lilt to it, like Eudora or Flannary, and I would sometimes address her by it, which enraged her. “Viola,” I’d say, “Reckon what it would take to get you to make me some bacon for supper?” And she would…
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Wanderings, Wonderings
There’s a certain liquid but frictioned struggle when I walk through the grass in the morning after it rains. My feet, less sure now, more prone to missteps and the cruelty of unbalancing, skim through the green sea of clover and vetch, leaving long strokes like ski tracks behind me. But I do not turn to look at these tracks as I walk, because I do not trust my own footfalls. This, then, is what aging is: a gradual mistrust of all the powers and agile techniques and reflexive movements that I once took for granted, like a good Catholic who, when he sees death’s cowled head bobbing up over…
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Her Majesty
In late afternoon yesterday, I prepared to take our household trash to the disposal station north of us. I gathered the bags and went outside to load them, and I noticed a large bird’s nest on the ground beneath the weeping willow tree. The day had been gusty and the wind had taken the intricate structure down. I started to just ignore it for the time being, but that curious little voice inside me urged me to go look at the nest. There might be eggs inside, said the voice. So I went to the nest, marveling as I always do at the workmanship and careful design a bird can…
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Something In The Water
We spent most of the day doing our rat killin’ (running errands, to you Yankees ) and returned home to sit in our chairs on the back porch, fans humming away, watching the thermometer climb to near 90F. Good times. The joints appreciate the lack of refrigerated pain. When we got down to the bottom of the mountain this morning, we detoured over to Pal’s drive-thru and we each got a sausage biscuit, an order of cheddar rounds (sort of like a large tater tot embedded with real cheddar cheese and smushed flat) and a sweet tea. While sitting in the line, I looked over and saw a familiar sight.…
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Feast of the Maid
He was feeling low that day, with all the regrets and bad decisions and missed opportunities of a lifetime revolving before him like a carousel, pulling him into that silent despondent cave where he sometimes found himself, with warmth and light and hope far outside, seemingly unreachable. Those moments felt like eternity, and eternity troubled him. The phone rang and he answered it, providing the lengthy greeting that was by now so natural for him to recite, the greeting ending with “How may I help you today?” The voice was female, faint, and warbly. “I need some help.” “I’d be glad to help you, ma’am. Is there something in particular…
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Horribilis Septimana
A truly unpleasant week is behind me now, and I am grateful for the passage of time. A rabbit came by the front door a while ago to nibble some buttercups, and he seemed at peace with his dangerous little world, so I suppose I can try to be at peace as well. First of all, a belated Happy Mother’s Day to all of you mothers among my regular readers. I’d also like to say Happy Mother’s Day to all the divorce-raped single fathers who do both jobs with love and devotion. See, that’s why it’s a good thing that I don’t have a Facebook account….I’d post something like that…
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In The Carolean Era
We went Thursday evening to the orthopedic urgent care clinic I mentioned in my last post, and it was a surprisingly good experience. I was dreading any encounter with the post-coof medical/pharmaceutical behemoth, but this was an example of being in the right place at the right time. It was clear as soon as we entered the clinic that we were the only people in the place. The receptionist was kind and affable, and got me checked in quickly. An x-ray tech who looked like Lisa Loeb’s twin sister appeared with a most-welcome wheelchair and took me back for pictures of my knee. She, too, was very kind and personable,…
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My Knee Grows
For a couple of weeks now, my right knee has been giving me fits. I assumed it was arthritis at first, but then the pain increased gradually and reminded me of the time I hyperextended one of my knees several years ago. Been hobbling around for a few days, using a cane when walking farther than from room to room. I figured I hurt it when I hopped off the lawn tractor week before last and landed with some unsteadiness. This past Saturday, I broke the belt on the tractor and had to end up mowing the back yard with a push mower before it rained, planning to go the…