I don’t know, Papa, but sometimes just talking to you is the best I can do, like with BFF. Guess you are one of those to me.
Beanni and I knelt at the window, watching couples putting their yards in. Even for Michigan, the signs are of Spring. Winter kept me confused, not sure where I was, when it was. I even got angry at you, because you know how my loss of date and day of the week cause me so much confusion. At least with snow, I had a clue. For us it would be somewhere between November and May. But when you stopped the snow in January I’ve felt like that silver roller in Pinball, bouncing around not sure where I will land, or if another nickel was to be popped into the machine to send me on yet more searches.
Today was beautiful, as so many of the days you have blessed us with. Beanni and I watch the activity with our noses pressed against the glass of the window, going room to room according to Bean’s priorities. From our 2nd floor world we watched my neighborhood bustle with gardening, grass mowing, and creating beautiful flower beds. The kids were riding bikes, older couples walking by hand-in-hand. And Beanni and I as far away from them as if we were in Europe. He cannot go out cuz he likes to run ‘wild’, and I cannot go out because I cannot go out.
I remember how many great gardens I’ve planted and worked on as a child with my wonderful mom, and through the years as Jim and I moved as he was assigned. I had a dwarf historical apple orchard when we were in Hickory Corners. And cherry trees, and child-size plum trees.
Once I had a lovely English braided herb garden. And the flowers? Best ever, from seed.
Now I look at my beautiful yard and see fresh weeds, barren spots, all the little corners that need tender care. Last year 5 of my 6 rose bushes died, and all of my perennials. It was a period of mourning. Years and years have passed without fresh veggies and berries.
I tried to go out with pup, Beanni, just to pull weeds on the bald spot in my yard… I couldn’t stay. And I came inside to weep, missing what was and wrestling with what is, and is yet to be.
There are times I want to shout “I’m still here!!!” But “I” am ever changing. Am I diminishing? I don’t know. But who I was is gone. Papa, I am so afraid and unaccepting of the changes happening.
But the day is still beautiful, even crouched behind a rippled window. And it still amazes me, even tho’ what I see isn’t mine.
Now, don’t screw up and have it snow, ok??
It’s me, Vicki