December 11, 2024
Well, we had snow. We really did. It covered everything—more or less—and with the sun shining during the day and the freezing cold at night, we had ice, too.
Sufficient snow and ice decorated
the out-of-doors that I asked my husband to attach the “ice claw” to my cane. I
wait until it looks like I’m going to need it before I ask him to do that,
because the device adds to the weight of the cane. It also turns the end of my
cane into a potential weapon.
And then, just a couple of
days ago, the temperature rose just enough that the precipitation we received became
rain. And now, today, looking around my computer monitor out the window and at the
wider world, no trace of snow or ice remains.
The greenery won’t last long,
of course. We’re smack dab in the middle of winter, as this family defines it: October
to March, inclusive. In fact, the weather forecast tells me we’re in for
flurries today. Possibly.
Fifty-two years ago today, I
gave birth for the first time. It seems just weird that I have a fifty-two-year-old
son, but there it is. In fact, on the odd occasion I’m asked, these days, if I
have any children, I do reply that no, I do not, but I do have grandparents.
Thanks to the presence of my
two oldest great-grandchildren this past weekend, I can report that our
Christmas tree is up and decorated. They stay over night one weekend a month, which
gives my daughter time with her grandkids. We’ve gotten used to having them,
and generally it’s a good, if tiring time for us.
Yes, Christmas is in the air,
and for the most part, we’re ready for the small amount of hustle and bustle the
holiday brings our way. The gifts that needed to be purchased are here in my
office, and while I do have some special dishes to prepare, that’s week or so
off yet.
We don’t host the Christmas
dinner anymore, and that’s fine with me because I simply don’t have the stamina
to produce a meal for a crowd. I think my largest was 16, and while it turned
out well, I did need rest for some time afterward.
We continue to make the
necessary adjustments dictated by the simple fact of getting older. I find I
need to really pay attention to the little things—how I move, and that I’m not
attempting to carry too much at one time.
But occasionally, no matter
how careful I am, things happen. Sometimes, I’m very, very sorry. And
sometimes, I can only giggle.
Yesterday, when it was time to
get my legs up in my recliner for a part of the afternoon, I left the office
and took with me my refillable water bottle, along with a few odds and ends
that I carry to the living room in a cloth bag.
In the kitchen, I put the morning’s
dishes into soak, as usual, so that in a half hour or so I could come out and wash
them up. (No, I do not now, nor have I ever had an appliance for the task).
Then, I took my bottle, emptied and rinsed it, filled it with fresh cold water,
and capped it. Since the outside of the bottle was wet, I knew I had to dry it off.
And somehow, while reaching for the towel and moving the water bottle into
position so that I could dry it, that slippery little piece of plastic
flew out of my hands, up into the air, and landed with a kerplunk into the sink
of dishes soaking in dishwater.
The tiny splash missed my eyes
and hit my forehead.
I stared down at the sink, the
bottle visible, and gave thanks that I had tightened the cap well. And as I
looked at that submerged bottle I knew with absolute truth and certainty, that here
before me was something I had never done before in my entire, longish life.
I fished the bottle out,
rinsed it off and then dried it. And a few minutes later, as I settled into my recliner,
I was telling my husband that I had done something moments before for the very
first time.
He nodded as I relayed the
incident. Then he said, “Well, they say seniors should try new things.”
I’m grateful that sarcasm and
humor are alive and well in our home.
Love,
Morgan
https://www.bookstrand.com/morgan-ashbury
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