I woke up this morning, made my bed and a cup of coffee. I opened a few blinds to check on the weather and here I am.
Life is very simple out here at my little weekend oasis. A place where I can shed all my labels and the only one that sticks is "sister". I am still all the other things but here? I feel light and easy.
Monday to Friday is committed. Where would I be without those commitments? Broke, for sure. I do appreciate the structure long time employment offers. As I vacuumed the relentless cat hair at home yesterday morning, I didn't feel so appreciative. Thank goodness it was Friday.
I have been working hard within that little home office of mine. Yesterday, I answered and dealt with the calls that came in. I went through my morning routine and checked everything that needed to be checked. Then? I coasted.
I haven't coasted for a good, long time and it felt pretty good. I was guiltily sitting in front of the TV watching Grey's Anatomy in the middle of the afternoon when my daughter walked in and sat down. She needed to talk more than I realized at the time. I'm so glad I wasn't sitting in my office when she approached me. She deserved my full attention.
Then I received a deep and thought provoking text from my brother. It was a group text and I am the only one of four siblings who doesn't have an Iphone, so I rarely take part in the conversation. But it was a comfort to hear the identifying notification sounds of my brother and two sisters conversing back and forth as they offered their perspective on a pivotal day (40 years ago) in our lives. One day, four different vantage points.
My day hit a crescendo by four forces of life coming together at the same time. The sibling conversation as a backdrop to my daughter doing her taxes for the first time, with the request for guidance and reassurance along the way; packing up for my weekend getaway; and my need to be somewhere at 4:00.
This little dynamic was punctuated with my Second Son's travel updates as he made his way to Mexico.
The stories within the stories. The same story as told by different people, at different ages/stages and locations as the main event was unfolding. It was a comfort, as I replayed the afternoon in the aftermath of my day, once I arrived safely at my weekend oasis destination.
Oh, to be at home with thoughts of family, siblings and the ease of the day set before me with little or no distraction. It is a good life out here at my little oasis.
In the long standing war between me and our determined little black cat, Jet finally figured out the answer to his dilemma which has been deterring him from sleeping under my covers.
Long story short, I have resorted to putting a flat sheet over my comforter during the day, which I de-hair and remove every night in an attempt to minimize the cat hair I sleep in.
Jet soon discovered he could still sneak under my quilt by entering via the side of the bed:
 |
| This way ... |
 |
| Or this would do. |
I remedied that by tucking the sheet under the mattress on the side of the bed where Jet made his entrance. This worked like a charm for months on end. I was highly amused that Jet didn't figure out there was a second entry point available. The sheet was tucked into one side of the bed and there was easy access on the other side. The cats slept blissfully unaware on top of the sheet and I felt pretty pleased that I had outwitted our highly intelligent cat. I didn't even speak my thoughts aloud because I have a sneaking suspicion Jet understands English.
Then it finally happened. I walked into my room yesterday to discover this:
 |
| Isn't he cute??? |
I have made it through what I anticipated would be the hardest day of the week. One hurdle met with a gusto and I was energized on the other side. Another hurdle was easier than anticipated. Hard. But done. Done is good. The third hurdle wasn't one I was anticipating. Those are the ones that can catch us. The unexpected.
As challenging as my day felt, the key players in the other side of this story are the ones who are the heros. For me, it was a day. More specifically, it was hours. For them, it is their life.
A life they didn't ask for or expect. A life that continues to evolve and the hurdles just keep coming. The landscape keeps changing and they are losing control of a life they lived fully.
To open your eyes and wake up to a brand new day feeling like you know what you may expect is a gift. Even if what you expect isn't something that excites you, there is something to be said for even a slightly unremarkable life.
I sat down to write yesterday but fell down a rabbit hole when I couldn't remember a small detail. I fell down a parallel rabbit hole last week.
I'm writing about things I've written about before so I use the search bar at the top of my blog and start reading what I've written previously. I like what I find and start comparing my current self to my prior self and I'm coming up short.
Where did all the words go? Why do I not have original thoughts any more? When did I stop finding little morsels of the day to write about? Who am I when I don't write? What am I going to do about this?
When you live a life on the rinse and repeat cycle over and over, without living a life outside the place you call home, the world becomes very small.
When you stop inviting people into your life and find solace in isolation instead of socialization, that small world becomes smaller.
When you tamp down your thoughts with Netflix marathons and potato chips, you start to disappear.
I have become smaller than I can remember being for a very long time.
Step one was to restart the daily writing habit. This is so much harder than I thought it would be. Step two must take me one step outside the rinse and repeat cycle I'm living so I start noticing the world outside my head and think some new thoughts.
Focus. One word at a time. One day at a time. One forward step at a time ...
When I resigned from column writing, I wrote:
"... I need to write like no one is reading for a while. Some of this unfamiliar territory involves my family, so many of my musings and thoughts are not my story to tell. Most of this will turn into a great lesson one day..."
I had recently handed in my notice to my daycare parents and was taking (another) leap of faith into my future. A future, I didn't realize at the time, that would revolve around three seniors who have taught and continue to teach me life lessons.
Mom - a fiercely independent 88 year old (at the time) who modeled the person I most want to emulate as I move through the years ahead of me. She was a life long learner long before they coined the phrase. She was curious, interested and deeply invested in her family and those within her life.
My bookkeeping boss - still working at age 85, loving what she did and invested in teaching me enough to take over the ropes one day in the distant future.
My aunt - a gracious, curious and light hearted soul who had lost her husband (my dad's brother) three years prior. She was in the beginning stages of dementia and would need some support systems in place to keep her independent for as long as possible. She graciously accepted the help she was offered and was/is so grateful for her children and all they did/do to support her.
I remember thinking of these widely diverse group of seniors and how I would like to adopt some of the qualities from each of them into the person I was becoming. Six years later? The person I most want to emulate is Mom. Perhaps that is true because she died within the year and memories of her are frozen in time, while my other senior friends have continued on and their story is still being written.
No one can predict the road ahead of us. We can look at our parents, grandparents, our gene pool and make some vague predictions. But we can never know what twists and turns will develop as modern medicine, preventative medicine and the vast sea of the unknowns change over time and impact our future.
I stopped writing before I knew the path I was on. I simply knew all I could think about was Mom and what she was going through. Not my story to tell. She has been gone six and a half years and my thoughts return to her often. Perhaps there is a story there ...
