You know, it’s been a pretty tough couple of months for me. I have a built-in Pollyanna functionality, so I do find the silver lining in most situations, but these last two months nearly did me in. With illnesses and financial/career issues and things falling apart one after another, October and November may very well rank up there in the top 2 worst months of 2015. Two days ago, as I administered Benadryl to alleviate the humongous hives that mysteriously appeared all over K’s body (and her hands swelled up like mitts and lumps the size of golf balls protruded from her feet), I had this sudden and visceral realization that the problems will never cease. I don’t know why this felt like some thunder clap a-ha moment, but it did and somehow, that made me feel less overwrought. It’s rarely about the actual situation but the expectation I start to uphold that problems shouldn’t exist. So silly. It’s sort of like swimming or surfing in the ocean and becoming indignant about the water going up our noses or waves knocking us over. In many ways we can revel in the majesty and beauty and awesomeness of it all and — to a certain extent — prepare for the worst, but it’s a force that’s much bigger than us and uncontainable in its unpredictability.
Ultimately, in the satellite view of things, my dramas are ridiculously insignificant. Especially in the aftermath of events in Paris.
The pendulum seems to be swinging the other way, and although there is a fresh crop of other minor inconveniences, overall things are improving. We’re recovering from our multitudes of ailments, and financial bits are heading in the right direction, and we’ve patched up leaking/breaking/exploding elements.
Yesterday morning, K traced her fingers around my eyes and murmured, “So many wrinkles, Mama. Don’t get old. Don’t.” Sorry honey, no can do. Just as problems are an inexorable part of existence, my crow’s feet will continue to deepen and time will march on, widening my waist, depleting my elasticity, blurring my sight. And that’s okay because I hope to live long enough to wear unfashionable house dresses because I’ve long stopped caring what other people think; to smile from a face full of permanently etched laugh lines; to peer delightedly at my grandkids through my trifocals. We can only do what we can in the best way we know how in the amount of time we’re given.
And what does this have to do with swans? Not a thing. I just like to ramble and throw in an image that I’ve painted.
Have a wonderful weekend, my friends.
Next week’s Thanksgiving
I’m taking a few days off
I’ll try to post once