Monday, November 30, 2009

Sunday, September 13, 2009

September afternoon...reflections

September afternoon
It's still hot here in Scottsdale....104 I think today...maybe hotter. and it's mid September. There is a breeze and a few high clouds. No rain. Everything is dry and parched. Most of the flowers have gone somewhere else. Even my garden dried up, despite lots of irrigating. Just too much heat for too many days. BUT life is good. I now await the coming of our first grandchild, sometime in January. Can't believe it really. But I have seen the ultrasound photos and know it's true. Eryn even felt the first little flutterings the other day. Gary is in Nashville helping them paint their condo. He'll be back in a couple days.

Meanwhile, I am reflecting on the very great probability that I am to write a book. I have to face reality however and I do understand that a book proposal must be created before anything else. Now for someone as spontaneous and without order as myself, that could prove a real trial. However, my friend Adele is deep into the process and nearly finished with her own book, so I KNOW it is possible. However, she is an engineer by trade and ultimately organized. That was definitely a huge bonus in her journey. But, I also KNOW it is time to begin. I feel the flutterings inside me of anticipation and hope that I will somehow be able to say what needs to be said in a way that will touch those whose hearts cry out and for whom there are no defined answers.

Wednesday, May 13, 2009

This morning in Austin

Water, for an Arizonian means something totally different than water for a person from anywhere else (except maybe the Sahara). Given the resort setting of my kid's apartment complex and the temperature of the wind and water, the sound of the fountains spilling from pool to pool and my natural proclivity for being buoyant, looking up at the morning sky, billowy clouds whipping around, it was a very deep pleasure to be swimming at 7:00 am and absolutely no one else crazy enough to be there with me, in the water, (Jessica was actually sitting nearby, not participating in my silent hilarity), totally immersed in this incredibly sensual reality. Can words really convey the extent of my gladness to be thus engulfed in such absolute immediateness, such complete, unadulterated yesterday, no tomorrow, just NOW? Then into the hot tub. Ah, can it possibly get any better? then back into the pool...more clouds, more wind in the palm trees, more freelance flirtations with exquisite non-compartmentalized reality. Ah. Yes. Me thinks I shall repeat this experience on the morrow.

Tuesday, April 14, 2009

Reflecting this April 14th

This morning, I took a trip down memory lane, having to go to Mesa for a chiropractic appointment. (spent way too much time playing my violin for Easter service this weekend). I thought about going to the cemetery to visit family gravesites...going way back to my great grandfather but opted to drive past there and found myself parked along the curb of the vacant acre lot on Brown and 9th Pl. This was once the homestead where my dad grew up. It's been totally vacant for decades. Now, a sign saying "Future Home of an Assisted Living Facility" or something to that effect sits on the property. Across the street is the old Fitch homestead, with fields still under cultivation, as so much of Mesa was when I was growing up.
From there I went on to Stapley Rd and past the Church of the Redeemer,the church my parents helped build, physically and financially. It is also where I was first married in 1976, and attended my husband's funeral in 1980 (I and at least 700 law enforcement officers from all over the country.) The church looks unattended, excepted for the Christian school in the back. The citrus trees that used to don the yard are gone; the more recent palm trees quietly dying, it seems; weeds interspersed with the once verdant grass.

I continued on around on Dartmouth to the elementary school my sister and brother attended. At least half, if not more of the children were of Hispanic descent. Turning onto Hunt, I passed what used to be a beautiful half acre of pasture watered from the irrigation ditch along the edge. My horses and my dad's goats munched most contentedly for many years in that field. I retired my old 1953 Studebaker in that field for the entertainment of the goats who loved to jump up on it, then whip around and slid down the hood. Said pasture is a mass of weeds, broken fencing, trash.
Moving along, the house my parents lived in for 20+ years is nothing short of a catastrophe. I nearly cried. I've seen it in the not too distant past. Each time I've driven past, it seemed a little less cared about. This time it was horrendously neglected; the little flower pots beneath the windows, hanging loose or gone, the grass dying, trees unpruned, bars on windows, beautiful door replaced with a solid door, trash lying about.I was mortified. How amazing the transformation when a home is cared about and loved. My family was never far above a certain level of poverty due in part to my dad's poor health, but there was always an abundance of flowers, very green grass, a prolific grapefruit tree. It was such a cute place and my parents were so happy to have it. My mom actually had it paid off (a whopping $16,000) by the time she moved into assisted living in Utah in the late 80's..

Sigh. I felt somehow older and sadder, and at the same time, anxious to get home to my own funky older house (a fixer-upper when we bought it in 2001....and we're still fixing). But with my horses in the back yard almost, my wonderful garden, roses galore, along with pansies, geraniums, and petunias, mega shade trees and sweet front courtyard with crepe myrtles...along with all the delightful changes we have made inside...yeah, life is good and I am very grateful to have seen what I saw this morning. Because it has magnified my gratitude for what I call home this April 14, 2009.