BooWho

Things I want to keep in mind.

Month: May, 2017

Puppy

When the kids were little, they loved puppies.  They wanted to pick them up and hold them.  It took a lot of effort for them to learn not to hold them too tight.  The puppy would choke or struggle to get free.  We had to teach them to just sit still and hold the puppy very gently.  The puppy would then relax and welcome the attention of their soft, gentle hands.  The puppy may even fall asleep.  Sometimes, though, the puppy would want to get down from their lap.  This was disturbing to them as they WANTED the puppy to stay with them, they wanted the puppy to WANT to stay with them.

Recently, I’ve been struggling with holding on to the proverbial “puppy” too tightly; trying to make it stay on my lap.  It would be so much easier if the silly thing would just cooperate.  Sit still, go to sleep, stay here where I can see you and watch over you.  I don’t want to have to chase after you.

Wouldn’t it be lovely, if all of our “puppies” could stay in our little circle of control?

Unfortunately, parents get dementia.  Their bodies start to give out.  No matter how tight we hold them – they will leave our circle.  Kids grow up and have kids of their own.  They move in different directions and different rates of speed.  We all start to get OLD.

We wish and wish that time would slow down. We hope our parents go peacefully, with our blessing and gratitude for a life well lived. We hope that our children stay together and maintain a close relationship with each other.  May they always know that there is nothing like a sibling, always and forever – beyond all else.  We wish the grandkids stay little forever and, please, let me stay young enough to get down on the floor and play with them….

We have to hold the puppy gently, with kind and loving hands.  We have to let the puppy get down from our lap when he wants to – we can’t force him to stay.  The puppy needs to run and play and grow and so do we.

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Welcome back to comfort

Writing for comfort.  When I am away from my computer and I am not able to write – either because I am busy or I can’t find a topic – I really do miss it.  (For some reason, I don’t feel as comfortable just writing with pen and paper…).  In some ways, not writing makes me feel lonely; as though I am missing someone.  That someone is me.

When I was a child, I played alone a lot.  I talked to myself and had elaborate games in my own imagination.  I mimicked different accents and dialects and developed new scenarios for the characters I portrayed.  I lived inside my head and had dreams of being an actress on a soap opera.  Lofty goals.  As I aged, I realized the possibility of being discovered for my acting skills in a very small rural community in Montana were slim to none.  Still, I enjoyed fantasizing about fame and fortune as a diva on The Young and the Restless.

In college, I was living in a strange place, with no real friends.   I held tight to my life back at home by writing to friends and family.  Everyday, I wrote at least 3 letters.  I would fill the letters with anecdotes and details about my days.  In return, I would receive at least one letter a day from someone — usually my mom.  As I made friends, the need for maintaining contact with my old life began to wane.  I didn’t write as many letters but I used writing letters as an outlet for expressing my happiness, sadness or loneliness.  Writing became a habit and though I never really kept a journal – I “journaled” by writing letters.  To this day, if I need to express something I can do it best by writing TO someone.

I have written a play and receive royalties for it in September and April.  It is always exciting to open that envelope and realize that a drama club or group has performed MY play.  It has been performed in Canada, the UK and in several places in the U.S.  I’ve started several other plays but just can’t get beyond the first outline.  Not sure why — maybe the first play was just a fluky thing.  Perhaps if I wrote a play as if it were a letter I might have better luck.

Being retired has given me the opportunity of having more TIME although it feels as though I am just as busy now as I was when I was working and I wonder how I ever had time to do anything before!  I have a couple of writing projects that I’ve started but can never seem to finish.

One project is to write about my life just for general principle.   When my mom developed dementia, I realized that I don’t really know much about her.  She never really talked about herself.  I’ve been thinking about having to help write her obituary when she dies and it won’t be easy.  So many details we don’t know.  I wonder if my kids know me any better?

Do they know how much I love the sun and warm summer days?  Do they know how much I love tacos and salad and cold cereal?  How much I loved to play basketball?  That I can sing? (or that I used to be able to sing…)  My favorite color is green – not forest green but sage green.  I like Coke over Pepsi.  I hate onions.  I don’t like to ride a bike, I hate jogging but I love to walk.  I was chubby in college.  I wore braces in high school.  I was the shortest girl in my class in 8th grade and the tallest as a senior.   I was anemic and sickly as a child.  I never did work to my full potential in school because I never believed I was very smart (I now know better).

I am very proud of them – this, I think they know.  I love to play with my grandchildren – they know that too.  I love to laugh with them and to watch them laugh with each other.  I love it when we are all together and there is no strife or worry.  Those days are the very best, the days I cherish the most.  I find great comfort in writing about those days…

Across the window

The view out of my office window changes from day to day  depending on the season, traffic on the road, activities in my neighborhood.

The young family across the road are ranchers and they are a busy bunch.  I’ve watched their children grow from toddlers to little ranchers – driving four wheelers, chasing cows and changing sprinkler pipes.  All of the ranch chores are a family activity.  I’m so proud of them even though I only know them to wave hello across the way.

A little farther across the field is my cousin’s place.  He works a huge ranch, mostly by himself, from dawn until dusk and then some. I watch him every day and though we may not see each other face to face – I often feel as though I am a part of his life just because I get to watch it unfold daily.  His fields are the greenest on this end of the valley.  I know that is a source of pride for him and for those of us who border his property (though we have nothing to do with how pristine his fields are…).

This morning the view is gorgeous, as usual.  I am so lucky.  The fields are green, the willows are full-on yellow with new growth and trees are budding leaves.  Birds are darting to and fro and the cows are calmly eating the new, soft and fresh grass.  It is a very quiet, cloudy morning.  Not even a single dog is barking but it is early morning.  Our neighborhood commentator will start his daily barking ritual when the neighborhood starts moving.

Soon the school bus will round the corner and I will watch it travel across my window until it passes in front of the house to load up kids from up the road.  Shortly after, the rest of the neighborhood will begin to cross my view on their way to work.  The dog will bark at each of the cars as they go by.

As the day progresses, I may see my husband out in our yard.  He keeps it pretty green as well.  I will see him mowing, trimming trees and setting traps for the meadow moles that create havoc with their digging and mounds of dirt.  (Caddyshack at its finest…)

And of course, the ever present and magnificent Gray Wolf peak – somehow more beautiful and awesome with every season.

While the moving parts of my view change, the actual view itself doesn’t.   The mountains change color with the seasons but they remain standing – holding their place in the world.  Each day, when I sit down in my chair — turn on my computer and look up over the top of my screen — I breathe a sigh of relief.  It is still there.  The trees, the brush, the cows, the hills, the grass, the road, Gray Wolf.  I feel the same sense of awe that my father must have felt, and his father before him.  Home.  Peace.  Stability. Strength. Comfort.