It has been a bit of a day, daughter called requesting that I if I could go pick up g-son (11) at school. He is ill and she felt it would benefit him being here at my home while she worked. She is working seven days a week 10-12 hours a day trying to maintain. Anyway back to the g-son… his head is quite full with drainage, which is upsetting the tummy.
In taking care of him , I tucked him up in bed with cold juice, fed him chicken noodle soup etc. When I ask “how are you feeling now?” he responded “Oh gram, my whole body is so clogged up”. Poor guy, he is miserable and I suspect he has Strep Throat which has been going around, I will keep him overnight so his mom can just go home and rest without having to come here and drag him out into the cold.
The chair sitter is watching television with no idea what he is watching, every time I walk in the room he is asking me to explain what is going on with a program, one I have no idea what it is about. Patience is becoming my mantra. Love and peace all. God loves you and so do I.
She opened the envelope with shaking hands, ripping it wide to get to the pages inside. As she began to read what had been written her hearts void grew larger, seems her beloved had found someone to take her place. She had been waiting all this time, worried, crying daily, writing letters, sending little cards to the only address she had; all in hopes that he would someday return there and know she was still waiting.
Each word was a dagger into her, gut kicks that took her breath away, he had found someone else, all this time eighteen months of her believing he was missing, sixteen he had been there receiving her letters, not missing like she had been told. How, how could he deceive her like this, he told her he loved her that they would marry, have a family. He lied, used her and she had counted on him to come back as promised.
She needed to pull herself together, her mother would be back soon with Cody and she could not let him sense her anguish, he was so in tune with her he would get fussy. Her mother said she spoiled him and that was true, she loved that little guy more than her own life.
His father would never know that he had a son, she would never tell him. She knew through this letter that he had a wife of a year and newborn twin daughters . She learned a valuable lesson here, one she would never forget. The only people you can rely on is family and for that she was grateful, and she would never sleep with any man again without a ring on her finger…wish I would have listened to her mother when she tried to tell her that.
Life is odd– the time in our life
acts very strangely the older we get
like a rushing waterfall running
over huge boulders to small pebbles
into a serene pond when we are young
then down to a quiet trickle
getting smaller and smaller–
our life as we age
Time/life changes, it changes
every hour of every day.
Looking into the serenity pond
with its small circular eddies,
reflections show you the life
you have lived. It shows within
the line of your face, the crinkle
of your eyes
the streaks of sunlight
and silver in your hair.
Reflections in the pond of life,
as a small child, your marriage
your children, grandchildren
loves given, loves lost
The small slow turning whirls in the
serenity pond of life—growing
in ripples as if you skimmed a pebble.
The ripples of life change, yet there is one
facet that never changes– the love we are
commanded to gift one another.
Commanded by our spirit, our heart
to love one another, to do unto if you will.
Our love deepens not just by the
years we live but by the length of time
itself and in that reflection you see
in the pond of your life
you realize your gift of love
given freely is also a gift to yourself.
The more we love the larger the ripple
generation after generation it continues
to expand–if we did it right–given it
freely without too much judgement
of others, too many mistakes,
lessons given yet not learned.
Only the serene pond reflections will tell
the tale of our life as we gaze and reflect
until we are but an insignificant
trickle of life running over pebbles
of the serenity pond, until we
are no more– a wisp of sun dried dust.
Pretty eyes in great disguise
Hide the pain of lonely hearts
Sobs hidden by their smiles
Screams covered by laughter
Wiping tears so none will see
The beat of their lonely heart.
I made the mistake a while back of telling someone that a study done on Alzheimer’s stated that having television on helped to keep the mind active and calm. Oh my what did I unleash?
My home in the last thirty years has always had that irritating machine on, when he was home. There were times when he worked I had peaceful, serene, calming silence or at most my favorite tunes. When I had to retire due to health I had one whole year without the sound of ringing phones and checkout pinging, associates nattering in my ears constantly, oh what bliss that first year even if I was depressed and facing my mortality, until that point, I believed myself to be invincible.
After that year, the hubs retired and other than my stays in hospital (which he arrived at eight in the morning and left twelve hours later ) we have not been apart, we are together 24/7/365 ! Please don’t get me wrong I love him more than any man I have ever been with but there comes a time…..
I digress, I am craving silence, time alone to just enjoy time to myself, to listen to the silence, to hear myself think, cry, sing, write or even to clean my kitchen or my closet.
I am not able to do a lot physically but if I go to the bedroom for more than ten minutes he comes looking for me.
He gets angry with me over the slightest amount of time I am not right next to him, in my chair or in bed…a for instance Thursday night the grandson spent the night, we have always stayed up after Grandpa goes to bed at 7:00 p.m. we watch a movie, we talk, tell silly stories or jokes, we bond.
Hubs gets up at 9:30 p.m. comes in demanding I need my rest and we should be in bed ,when I told him the time he got upset that I had stayed up without him.
He constantly yells at the dog for eating too much/ not enough, not hearing him or wanting attention, she is sixteen this year and hard of hearing and moving slow…kind of like us, but she is defenseless so I have to talk to him and tell him he need not yell at her. We have a three-year old dog that he babies…I don’t understand this.
I know I am not supposed to talk bad about my hubs but if I don’t vent I am going to be screaming and y’all will be able to hear me…similar to the “shot heard around the world”.
Look I know it is age and the disease and I try so hard to understand that and be tolerant, it is just getting harder. I would love to drive myself to the grocer and shop, it tires and puts me in pain for two or three days after but oh just to get out, unfortunately when I do get out for an hour I receive three to four calls from him asking where am I and when will I be home? I know he worries and I worry about him. I just don’t know how to handle it or what I am supposed to do and needed a place to vent. So thanks for listening.
The nursery that had never seen a baby in all the years they had tried for one, she dragged the old vanity bench from her room to the closet, the old doc had said after the last one lost it was too hard on her body to keep trying. Climbing up on the bench she stretched reaching to the back of the shelf she pulled out an old paper wrapped box. At one time the box had been red but now a faded pink and orange as if from faded sunlight, the doily heart stitched in the center still held. Blowing off the fine film of dust, she stepped carefully from the bench surprised it held while she was on it both being older and she heavier now. Walking over to the cot in the room she sat and gently opened the lid, pieces of the paper flaking off and falling to the thread bare carpet underneath her feet. Tears welled up in her old rheumy eyes as she gazed upon her beloved Jasper’s handwriting, every card, note, and letter he had ever written was contained in this box
She had made it when she was but a young girl of ten, Jasper gave her this card right here on Valentine’s Day when she was nine years old. This one when she was thirteen, and this one when he proposed, with all the notes through seventy-one years of marriage and this bundle here the letters when he went off to war. Oh how she missed her best friend, husband, companion and lover gone now eleven years and her going to be one hundred one next month he went peacefully in his sleep, she wished she had gone too for it was just so lonely without him.
She had not thought of these old cards for some time not until she had noticed the children walking past the house on their way home from school with their little red bags and boxes with hearts. Then she remembered it was Valentine’s Day, their anniversary of eighty –one years she believed; time had done a trick on her memory and especially with arithmetic which she never was any good at anyway, she chuckled to herself.
Ella read the majority of Jaspers cards and letters and as the sun began to set, she opened the old trunk that sat under the window in that room. Taking out a tissue wrapped dress she laid it on the cot with its floor length train and veil as if resting on the pillow. She gazed through rheumy eyes at the yellowing lace remembering and seeing it white as the pure snow and how it flared out at the bottom as they danced that day.
Slipping off her house dress she donned the faded yellow gown surprised it was a near perfect fit she was a little wider in the hip but it did fit. Placing the veil upon her white head she looked in the mirror and time washed away she was eighteen again and Jasper was reaching out his hand standing at the alter smiling.
Ella Rose Ford (nee Jackson) a homemaker of Peach Grove, Georgia found in her home
February 14th, passed peacefully in her sleep. She was preceded in death
by her husband Colonel Jasper William Ford of the area. This would have been the
Fords eighty-first wedding anniversary. No other survivors known.
The ocean called to her soul late at night
she had to go, she couldn’t explain
the longing inside watching the tide come in
washing away the dirt as it went back out.
She wanted to be washed clean in that way,
to see the reflection of the moon on the water
rippling with the waves, then hitting the sand
with such force as it ebbed back into the mass.
She wanted to touch the moon in the water,
wanted the waves to wash her spirit clean,
tonight she planned on touching the full moon
to ease the longing it brought forth.
“Secretly Devoted To You” playing in her head,
her mom once sang that song to her,
well mama I hear it what are you trying to say to me now?
The water was cool on her skin as she entered the sea
with the kelp wrapping around her,
tugging at her the farther she went
the closer to her goal but the waves,
the waves, held her down in the
reflection of the full moon.
© LEN CARVER