Skip to main content

Recovery

I had a difficult time getting to sleep last night even though I was exhausted. I let one of the dogs sleep in bed with me so I had a warm body nearby. I'm sore today. My forearms ache from my death grip on the steering wheel. I think I pulled a muscle in my right forearm; I can't hold anything (like a coffee cup) without some pain. Perhaps I should stop before I start to sound too geriatric. I am, however, feeling very fortunate and thankful for a mother and grandmother who pray for me daily. My ordeal last night could have been far worse.

It's a good thing I didn't really have any plans for today. So far, I've sorted through my photographs. I had already planned to do this and bought some gorgeous hat boxes the other day just for this occasion. I'm amazed at how much I hold on to and why I feel the need to keep doubles of just about every picture. I'm also glad I have so many photos because they tell so many stories, like the time I took my nephew to the zoo and sprained my ankle on the way in or the day at the beach where I told my husband that he was going to marry me (and stood there dumbfounded that I didn't run him off with that prediction). The look in my mother's eyes tell the status of her mental health. Hugs and kisses and smiles are all reminders of how much I am loved.

I'm also throwing away a lot of photos. I cringe each time I place another one in the trash, but this is as good a time as ever to purge my memory box. My grandmother and I have started going through her family photos, and that process has given me a new perspective on what really is a keeper in the photo album world. There is no reason to hold on to baby photos of my friends' children or blurred photos of half a dog's head. And you know what? I actually like looking through each picture and deciding if I like it enough to make it part of the baggage I'm about to lug to Fort Myers. There might be a life lesson in there.

The clock tells me that Pretty Woman is about to come on the t.v., and that seems like an ideal movie for me to continue my reminiscing and purging. (I like to have on something I've seen enough so I don't have to devote all my attention.) I'll leave you with a sight I just caught from outside my window here. I don't think I've ever before seen an aloe plant bloom.

Comments

Christy said…
How pretty! My parents' aloe blooms every now and then. It's quite a sight.
I love looking through pictures. I, too, have photos of objects which I'll never need to remember and scenery which will not inspire unless it is re-visited in person. I'm always compelled to take several shots in order to get "the one." The problem then comes in discarding the runners-up.

Popular posts from this blog

Stalking a Pirate

Prepared we were not to cross Captain Jack's path late in the summer of ten, with the sun bearing down as we wandered the town where the Koreshans once lived. But he nodded. We smiled and went on our way, rolling it all in our heads. We giggled and talked and suddenly stopped to turn back and run after him. You see love for a pirate and sailing the seas rest deep in a gypsy girl's soul, where she dreams of the day he will take her away to find a new place in the world. So we followed his swagger as he wound through the woods and stopped to take in the sights. You know when chance comes to call you must answer with all because sometimes she doesn't seek twice. There we tracked Captain Jack on the seashell lined path and dreamed of the life that he lived With his swashbuckling ways that man made our day late in the summer of ten. You know love for a pirate and an adventurer's life lie deep in a gypsy girl's soul, where she dreams of the world she has yet to explore an...

Trying to Keep It All Together

The title of this post is a bit of a misnomer. Just this morning I said, "I'm having a hard time getting it together right now." I'm in one of those periods when showing up is the best I can offer, and I can't even guarantee that. That said, I just popped on here to share that I'm struggling. I'm dealing with a lot of loss right now. Some of it is easy to spot. Some of it I've tucked away because it's either terribly painful or terribly embarrassing--at least to me. Some of it was inevitable. Some of it was a surprise. All of it rises up into the center of my chest and begs me to stop for a moment to acknowledge it. It's doing that right now even as I type this. I'm having a hard time getting it together right now.

Warning Signs

This post has been sitting on my computer for the last few weeks. In the wake of this week, the message seems even more appropriate. *** For several months now, the service engine light has been on and off...mostly on. I've taken it to the mechanic several times, and he's pulled the code and checked out all the usual suspects before calling me to pick it up. There have even been a few times that it goes off on its own. And then comes back on. It's a bit of a waiting game, as I'm waiting until someone finally figures out what's going on. I was thinking about the service engine light this morning on the way to work and comparing it to how many times in life we talk about missing the warning signs. It's a convenient response, kind of like, "stay strong" or "she's in a better place now." Those empty words that fill an uncomfortable space and are usually best left unsaid. The truth, which sometimes seems to be messier, is that warning...