Although that looks like a sort of almost-mature pepper, it's just a little baby one and that plant is about a foot tall. If that. I wasn't kidding about my bonsai pepper plants.
Perspective is everything, I guess.
I'm going to be honest with y'all here. I just don't have one writing spark in me tonight. I just deleted a long thing about my mother and my stepfather but you know what?
I can't.
Sometimes these things do lay heavy on me and I've been doing a lot of thinking about all of that today, especially as pertains to my feelings about my mother as I have gotten older and am aging myself.
I guess I can sum it all up by saying that I do have more perspective on how she acted later on in her life and I can and do have empathy for the incredible heartbreaks and tragedies she had in her life but I am still angry in some ways. I listened to a book last week about a woman who had experienced physical abuse from her mother's live-in, long-term boyfriend and how angry she was at her mother, not only for putting up with the abuse she received from him, but for also allowing him to hurt her daughter. It was a decent novel. "The Day Shelley Woodhouse Woke Up," by Laura Pearson, and it covers familiar ground for many women. It does not end with everything all tied up in pretty ribbons, forgiveness, and a restored relationship, but there is empathy and understanding.
There is perspective.
Mr. Moon just got home from spending all day at Lily's new house, doing prep work for some painting. And when I say, "All day," I mean it. He was already gone when I got up at 8:30. He'd set my coffee mug by the coffee pot and left me a sweet little love note. He is such a good man.
I did very little today. I just could not get motivated. I went to Publix but mostly because I wanted some brown paper bags to wrap a present in to send to Lis. Her birthday is next week and I actually, for one of the first times in my life, may have bought something that someone truly wants and will cherish. I am the worst gift-giver. We were going to go meet her and Lon early next week at beach near St. Augustine but circumstances have arisen that make that not the best idea. All is well, don't worry, just little stuff. I do miss them so much and my soul needs some time with Lis, for us to share and laugh and cry together. Hopefully, we will get together soon. But I want to send Lis her present and thus- the need for brown paper bags.
Strangely enough, as I walked into the store, I was greeted by an old friend- one of the guys whom Mr. Moon had called to see if he wanted to come paint with him. I do see this man at Publix occasionally but probably not even once a year. And there he was. What a coincidence! We chatted for a few minutes, commiserating on getting older and laughing at how things have changed.
And so it has gone. I weeded a bit in the garden.
The seed pods of the collard greens.
We're having leftover soup tonight. And bread. Both were very good last night and I assume they will be again tonight. I added a parmesan rind to the soup I'm reheating to change things up a bit.
My husband is exhausted from the physical labor he's done today. I am exhausted from the emotional baggage I carry around on my shoulders. That is the way of it around here quite often. I don't know why he puts up with my crap. I'm just so very, very glad he does.
Anyway, one more day in the approximately 25,500 days I've lived on this earth. That's a lot of fucking days, isn't it?
Well, not if you're an ancient cypress tree or a bowhead whale. But for humans, it is not insignificant.
It's all a matter of perspective.
Love...Ms. Moon
Yes, 25,500 is indeed a lot of days. I suspect that you only truly remember a small percentage of them. What happened to all the others? Are they lost? Are you thinking of doing anything special to mark your 70th birthday? Maybe another trip to Cozumel is in order? Just a thought.
ReplyDeleteI doubt I remember .1% of my lived days. But we bloggers can go back for as many days as we've been writing to see what we were up to. If we want to, that is.
DeleteGlen is turning 70 a month before I do. We should do something, shouldn't we? And we'll also have been married 40 years this year.
Perspective indeed! From my perspective, it seems you engage with and handle your heavy baggage very admirably and at times with astonishing grace. I would never be half as able to carry on as you do. Give yourself the credit you deserve.
ReplyDeleteThere are so many people who are walking around, carrying such heavy weights of many different types. We never even know about most of them.
DeleteI agree with Wilma. Ditto, ditto.
ReplyDeleteI guess for a Galapagos turtle, that's just getting going! But when you can't write, it probably means it's not the right time. Another day, maybe.
In this case, I think it wasn't that I couldn't write. I could. I did. It was just too scattered, it made no real contribution to me or anyone else. But perhaps it did help me gather thoughts. Who knows?
DeleteEven when you have nothing to say, you say it so well.
ReplyDeleteThank you.
DeleteIf understanding and forgiveness would be easier!
ReplyDeleteYou have to carry your wounds and pain and that is not down to choice. Its hard work.
So many, many people think and say that we can just let that baggage go. We can forgive and move on! And that will lead to healing. I always liken it to having gotten polio as a child, like a friend of mine had. He did "heal" in that he was able to get out of the iron lung he was in for years as a very small child, but he would always limp and always need crutches or a wheelchair. A wound may heal, but there are generally residual effects and scarring. And it is hard work but it must be done.
DeleteThank YOU for understanding. I know you have your burdens too.
Age is like your pepper -- a matter of perspective! I love your picture of the collard seed pods. Do you save those seeds to plant next season?
ReplyDeleteI'm with you on the writing. Some days I just barely have it in me, and I'm not dealing with topics nearly as weighty.
We should let at least a few of those collards go entirely to seed in order to save some.
DeleteI wonder why you and I feel so compelled to write every day. We love our routines, don't we?
I imagine that listening to that book last week triggered some of these unhappy memories for you. I like the way you talk it out and write it out for us and work through the sadness. I hope that not only helps you but also helps others that have had similar troubles.
ReplyDeleteYou share so much love and you have so many that return that love to you. Thanks for always sharing with us here, Mary.
Yes, that book did trigger memories and feelings. That is not always a bad thing. It's not like I ever really forget. My childhood is part of who I am, just as we are all formed by those early experiences. I think that trying to deny the feelings that linger, the memories, does more harm than good, honestly.
DeleteI am SO grateful for the love in my life.
Did you ever see the movie " The Darjeeling Limited"? My main takeaway from that movie, for me, was how we carry around our parent's baggage, not just our own. Grief is a heavy load, I have the sore shoulders and back to prove it.
ReplyDeleteI have no answers, I understand my parents much better now, with perspective, but I doubt I could ever understand your mother. Somethings are not forgiveable.
Sending hugs and love.
Oh, how I love that movie! I've seen it at least three times. And it is true- emotional baggage can cause us physical pain. Not only CAN cause it, but does. Sending hugs to you.
DeleteI think I understand what made my mother who she was but I still don't like her very much. can't find it in myself to, what, forgive her? we did not have a good relationship and it only got worse after my father died when she gave in to her selfishness totally. when she felt like she could be who and what she wanted with no restraint. how much of that was her developing dementia I don't know. she covered it beautifully. the woman should have been an actress. well, she was, playing her different roles.
ReplyDeleteanyway, I'm surprised Mr. Moon has access to the house to start making changes before the closing.
There is no universal truth that we all must love our mothers. There just isn't. It's not possible because we are all different and some personalities just do not match up. And some things, although possibly understandable, are not always exactly forgivable.
DeleteAnd I, too, wonder about my own mother's dementia. I know that one night, when she was sundowning badly, my brother and I sat by her bed and listened as she raved the craziest things but as he said after we left, it was basically the same things she'd always said, only in a less restrained and more crazy manner.
We had to sign an agreement about being able to get into the house to do things before the signing. It's not usually done, I guess.