Some days don't work out like you hoped they would. They jar. They don't gel. Think about it. You wake up and open your eyes to the morning and for a brief few seconds its a little bit like when you were a kid. When all the days seemed to be full of promise, the stretch before you full of only good things. When the key to your happiness was your simple expectations. Then something happens. It is subtle but over the map of time something changes within you. But you cannot quite put your finger on this thing, this change, but it creeps in, insidious and almost intangible. It is like a ghostly cobweb that sparkles on the morning gorse, gone before noon and you wonder if you even saw it at all. Still, you get out of bed, with that long forgotten feeling of that little bit of the kid in you and you spread your bare feet to the floor. You might even yawn, a big wide silly kind of yawn and stretch your arms out on either side as if to embrace the day. You might even run your fingers through your tousled hair as you rise to the window to pull the blinds, happy to see a dash of blue on the horizon.
The day moves along. Chores and gardening take up most of your time. You are so busy that you blot out the negatives. The niggling things that stay buried down inside of you no matter how hard you work to dig them out, write them out, see beyond them out, shout them out. Those feelings can be like worms. Once in the soil you will never budge them unless you dig out the bed and start anew and even then, well, they might come back.
I had those past hurt thoughts today. Today. Imagine. How could I? The sun was shining. The garden glad of my attention. My sons well and happy. My spouse digging the soil for all it was worth. A wheel barrow of dead growth pitched into the bog. And yet, those blasted weeds of thoughts surfaced. I tried to pull them out but somehow I just couldn't get to the roots and even though I dug around, hoed the earth and tugged to dislodge them. They never budged.
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Mary, it's so amazing to me
Mary, it's so amazing to me that you blogged about this on this particular day.
I awoke looking forward to an early-morning telephone date with a British friend. We'd set it up days ago. Instead I received an overnight text message from her saying, sorry, the call is off due to her brother's unexpected death. He hung himself yesterday. Only in his 30s.
Exactly a week ago, I was just a Chunnel ride away from her. But now I'm a bit too far to feel useful.
Some days jar. Life can turn on a dime.
God Ellen, I am so sorry to
God Ellen, I am so sorry to read your news. Fragile life. Fragile days.
As I read your blogs more
As I read your blogs more often Mary, it never ceases to surprise me how your words conjure up feelings and images that are so close to different parts of my life. The exception being that you describe it so beautifully and poetically. I love it and thank you for posting so often. :)
Ellen, I'm so sad to hear of your friends loss. That's awful. So very, very tragic. I'm so sorry for their family, and for you as well. My thought are with all of you.
This is greatly appreciated
This is greatly appreciated Ryoma, thank you.
Ryoma and Mary, thanks for
Ryoma and Mary, thanks for your kindness. I didn't know my friend's brother, so my sadness is mainly for her and for what she is going through. Today she and her mother had to drive six hours to go pick up the body. That's one sisterly chore you wouldn't wish on your worst enemy.