It's beginning to dawn on me that summer is half over. The schools recessed in early June and will take up the new year August 24 (I think). So we're halfway through summer. In North Texas, we haven't hit 100 degrees yet, but it's coming Monday and Tuesday. Still, for us, it's a mild summer.
And for me, it's a pleasant summer--I can eat late lunches, take late naps, and not go across the street at three o'clock to pick up my grandson. I've enjoyed having my own schedule and being slightly lazy.
I haven't really been slacking off though. I'm reading Murder at the Mansion (I've decided to all it Murder at the Peacock Mansion--more zing, and peacocks figure in the story) for the second time to edit; I've sent off the index for the chili book; and second edits on the Chicago book are waiting for me. I'm rolling right along and happy about it.
Jordan and Jacob have still come for happy hour many days, so I've gotten my child and grandchild fix--would the others were so close that I could do that with all of them. All in all, so far it's been a lovely summer, and I'm reluctant to see it pass.
I always hark back to that line from 17th-century poet Andrew Marvell: "But at my back I always hear time's winged chariot drawing near." I sometimes wonder if age makes time pass more quickly, just when you'd like to slow time down. I'm usually amazed when the weekend comes around--where did the week go? And this month I face another birthday, another reminder that I am far from a spring chicken. People say to be grateful that you woke up this morning instead of the alternative, and I do feel that. But somehow I want to cling to each precious moment. And they go by too fast.
A good friend came for supper tonight--green noodles (with mushrooms, artichoke hearts, lemon, scallions, and a bit of pesto) plus fruit salad and sliced tomatoes--good dinner! But out life views are so different. I forget what I said but she replied, "So what? If it's your time, it's your time." I said I wasn't ready to go yet, but she scoffed. Then we got to talking about possessions--she, much younger than I, intends to get rid of everything in her house so her children won't have to sort through it. I said I loved being surrounded by furniture, paintings, books etc. with memories and meaning to me. She scoffed again. "It's just stuff." No, it's not--it's the wingback chair my mom always sat in and the bed my parents slept in and the autographed books and the lamps my mom had and....I could go on and on. I like my "stuff." I have a list of what kid wants what, but I realize someday they'll have a lot to deal with. Meantime, I'm busy and happy.
Okay, August, hold off a bit, would you please? And that winged chariot--don't hurry.
And for me, it's a pleasant summer--I can eat late lunches, take late naps, and not go across the street at three o'clock to pick up my grandson. I've enjoyed having my own schedule and being slightly lazy.
I haven't really been slacking off though. I'm reading Murder at the Mansion (I've decided to all it Murder at the Peacock Mansion--more zing, and peacocks figure in the story) for the second time to edit; I've sent off the index for the chili book; and second edits on the Chicago book are waiting for me. I'm rolling right along and happy about it.
Jordan and Jacob have still come for happy hour many days, so I've gotten my child and grandchild fix--would the others were so close that I could do that with all of them. All in all, so far it's been a lovely summer, and I'm reluctant to see it pass.
I always hark back to that line from 17th-century poet Andrew Marvell: "But at my back I always hear time's winged chariot drawing near." I sometimes wonder if age makes time pass more quickly, just when you'd like to slow time down. I'm usually amazed when the weekend comes around--where did the week go? And this month I face another birthday, another reminder that I am far from a spring chicken. People say to be grateful that you woke up this morning instead of the alternative, and I do feel that. But somehow I want to cling to each precious moment. And they go by too fast.
A good friend came for supper tonight--green noodles (with mushrooms, artichoke hearts, lemon, scallions, and a bit of pesto) plus fruit salad and sliced tomatoes--good dinner! But out life views are so different. I forget what I said but she replied, "So what? If it's your time, it's your time." I said I wasn't ready to go yet, but she scoffed. Then we got to talking about possessions--she, much younger than I, intends to get rid of everything in her house so her children won't have to sort through it. I said I loved being surrounded by furniture, paintings, books etc. with memories and meaning to me. She scoffed again. "It's just stuff." No, it's not--it's the wingback chair my mom always sat in and the bed my parents slept in and the autographed books and the lamps my mom had and....I could go on and on. I like my "stuff." I have a list of what kid wants what, but I realize someday they'll have a lot to deal with. Meantime, I'm busy and happy.
Okay, August, hold off a bit, would you please? And that winged chariot--don't hurry.
3 comments:
I feel the same way, Judy. You summed it up so nicely, though. While I have no children to "sort through" my stuff, I'm a gatherer. I have to keep going through it all, because there are so many memories attached to most of it. Letting go...
Oh, and Happy Birthday. I'm a Cancer, too, so we can age gracefully together and say to heck with what others say. There's some stuff I'm keeping.
Happy Birthday to you too!
I wasn't scoffing at all, but sharing what I've learned for myself. My love and life partner has taught me a lot these past four years about the joy of letting go of attachment. Whether it be to outcome, things, situations, relationships. Clutter in my own home makes me physically uncomfortable, so that part comes fairly easily to me. Attachments to outcomes are harder for me as a recovering control freak. But I read something a while back that has stuck: "Let go, or be dragged." It helped me to understand that while I may expect and believe I can make things go a certain way, the world will go about its business and I am not in charge, and that continuing to believe I am will only cause me frustration and sometimes sadness. So for me, letting go of expectations of the word and all of the objects in my life that are not essential (as you know, editing is a hard-earned skill) has made space in my life for more joy and contentment, although like everyone else I am work in progress.
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