Pity Party Over

           This morning I woke depressed and scared. The MRI test that I was so sure would show nothing or at least something minor came back with a lot of words like stenosis, degenerative (okay, I’m 77—what wouldn’t be degenerative?), and bulging disk. I was sure my active life as I knew it was over, I was afraid to walk around the house, had to make myself make the bed and fix tea. In fact, when Jordan called I was near tears. All my children called, and Colin gave me sensible advice—take time to process this in your mind. What I knew was that I was in charge of whatever I make of the rest of my life.

So tonight I’m in a much better frame of mind. I won’t claim to have done much today—folded some laundry, emptied the dishwasher, fixed a sandwich for lunch and reheated the bbq my neighbors brought for supper (so good!). Did some work at my desk, found I didn’t have to cling to the furniture to walk from room to room. In short, it’s going to be okay, though I will heed Colin’s advice—don’t try big things when I’m home alone—and neighbor Jay’s words, “baby steps.” Will I ever cook big Sunday night dinners again? I hope so.

One of Colin’s pieces of wisdom (he really is a rock) is that we should start to think now of the future, so if, God forbid, something happens we don’t make decisions in haste. How did I raise such a smart kid? And how did I raise four such caring kids? I said I’d be lost without them, and Colin said, “We all would be lost without each other.” He reminded me that I’ve been a role model for them all these years, and now, that I seem to be turning a corner into old age, I continue to do that, to show them how to do it gracefully..

I won’t pretend I got a lot of work done today—lots of emails, read a really positive review of my forthcoming Murder at Peacock Mansion, began to register on new sites, and read a book for review, took a nap. It was neither the long day nor the bad day that I anticipated.

And now to read a bit and go to bed early to see what tomorrow brings. Nice to know that I can move myself out of depression and into optimism.

Storms--again

Jacob in his parents' closet
He is generally afraid of storms but there
must be something about being home

The world around me has that lovely, almost preternatural dark quiet about it that comes after a ferocious storm. The trees are leafy, very green, and very still. The schoolyard across the street boasts small lakes. As the sun sets, there's a pink glow to the sky. Lovely time of lovely day--though it is a bit chilly. We had planned a leisurely dinner of BBQ on the deck--didn't quite work out that way. Jordan was a) tired, and b) anxious to get home before the storm. So we gobbled our BBQ at 5:30 (virtually kicking Jay out the door), and by 6:10 she had cleaned the kitchen and they were gone. They barely made it home before it hit--they were more in the direct path than I was--and reported time spent in the closet.
Here, the sky got that ominous color (no, not the green or a tornado--kind of a dark gray-blue), and then came the wind and rain. I think I heard winds of 70 mph--I stood in the front door and watched wind blowing the rain until it danced down the street, fierce gusts propelling little rivulets. I love the power of a good storm--fascinates me. As I may have mentioned, my brother tells me our mother taught us to love storms--so glad she did that instead of frightening us with them. Again, I was lucky--no power outage, no tree damage, just the pure excitement of watching the storm roll through. It was the first time I thought Sophie was a little nervous, for she stayed at my heels. I soothed her with sweet talk, and she went to sleep by my desk.
Just before the storm I had sent all four children and their spouses copies of the proposed cover of my chili book, due out this fall. I loved it and sat back waiting for them to respond. Instead I got a bunch of emails that essentially said, "Why aren't you in a closet?" Big disappointment. When the editor says it's okay, I'll share the cover here.
Meantime, it's a wet, wonderful world, and I am grateful. The contractor who keeps my house together was here this morning and is not so grateful. Asked how he was, he said, "Fine, except for the rain." I launched into the usual, "Oh, but we need the rain. We're grateful for it." "Not when you have the roof off a house," he replied.
Funny, we each see the world from our own perspective.