May 11, 2022
As I write this, the current
outside temperature is 61 degrees Fahrenheit, headed for a high of 82. Fingers
crossed, we are hoping we’ve seen the last of the snow and the sleet and the icy
sidewalks until at least October or November.
Yes, it’s finally spring!
Later today my husband is planning to cut the grass for the first time of the
season. I’ll be pleased, I’m sure, to have the green lawn which at this time of
year is looking particularly lush, trimmed and neat. However, to the north of our
porch, growing beyond the garden in which they thrived last season and into
that lush lawn, there are dozens of spears of lilies-of-the-valley poking their
hopeful little heads up.
I’m not sure what it says
about me that I’m a little saddened, knowing they’re likely about to be
leveled. Anyone who grows lily-of-the-valley knows they will take over, and
always grow beyond their area—unless of course one goes into the back yard and
has a great idea on how to make that particular area look so much better….
But that’s a story for another day.
I suppose I could come up with
some poetic way to immediately console myself over this anticipated sadness—for
example, I could thank those spears for appearing for the audition, but the roles
have all been filled. Or I could just let the small sadness stay with me for a
little while.
I’ll do that because I think
sometimes, we don’t want to let ourselves feel any unhappy emotions. I
understand that because over the last few years it seems as if the unhappy/negative
side of our emotional spectra have had way too much prominence in our lives.
Just as one may have the
thought that they can’t cry because they may never stop, one may also worry
that if they give in to the sadness and grief, they’ll never feel happy again.
That’s not an outlandish prospect,
because some people seem to be destined to hit that one valley experience that
they will never be able to climb up out of. Sadness and grief are different for
every person. We all experience them differently and the truth is that some
people never do just visit those emotions. Some people do “live there”.
I don’t live in my sadness and
grief, but then, I never expected them to completely go away, either. I believe
that a profound loss does often engender a profound grief. And if you’ve suffered several of those losses
in your lifetime, it does change you. How could it not?
I still count the passing of
my father when I was 8 as the greatest seminal moment of my life. I spent a
great deal of the time over the next 13 years following that tragic event being
afraid that my mother would die, too. Which she did, when I was 21.
And while at that point I had
a husband and one child and was looking to have more, the knowledge that anyone
could die at any moment was never buried deep enough in the back of my mind. It
still isn’t, but again, I really don’t dwell there.
I, like most adults of my age,
understand that we’re truly not promised tomorrow at all. Whether the people that
I love live, or die is not within my control. And I believe that is another
important concept for us mere humans to embrace. There are just things in our
lives that we’re not only unable to control, but we’re also not meant to.
Therefore, I don’t mind acknowledging
the moments of sadness that come to visit. But I also acknowledge the special
moments, the loving moments, the funny moments. And I try to balance it all out
by looking at the big picture and reminding myself that because our time in
this life is short, every single moment matters. Happy moments and sad moments.
Giggling moments and crying moments.
Every moment in my life is
mine, has been mine, will be mine, and I proudly lay claim to them all.
Love,
Morgan
http://www.bookstrand.com/morgan-ashbury
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