May 8, 2024
So far, May is showing herself
to be a springtime month in what my memory swears is the “traditional way”.
Warming, not too hot, pleasant days and coolish nights. Not too hot, not too
cold. Just right. There was a reason back in the day and in this neck of the
woods that we didn’t plant our gardens until after the Victoria Day weekend –
which is the weekend just ahead of the third Monday in May. By then, hopefully,
all threat of frost was truly past.
For the last few years, May
has seemed to have had delusions of summer. Some of her days were way too hot
for me to be outside. I know that today is only the 8th, but I
remain hopeful that we get to do without any heat waves here in southern
Ontario at least until we actually are in summer.
I’ve been watching the havoc
that Mother Nature has been wreaking south of the border. Seriously, y’all don’t
seem to be catching any breaks at all down there in the lower forty-eight. This
saddens me, because while I have never lost a home to a tornado, I have lost
two to fire. That sense of supreme violation, that sense of being left with nothing,
is not a feeling I would wish on anyone, anywhere, anytime.
I was sitting around yesterday
and just thinking about how life has changed as I’ve aged. I know that if I’m
experiencing revelations and transformations, then others must be as well. We
humans have a habit of always “looking forward” to what might be our futures. I’ve
done that through the years. Mostly I’ve done that when the burden of working
and doing in the now seemed a bit heavy. I used to look forward to the “golden
years”. And because I have a bit of a whimsical sense of humor, I mentally drew
myself a little comic strip about my life, comparing my anticipation for those coveted
golden years, to the reality of living in them.
Me at 49: My golden years are
going to be so great! I’ll have a slower pace in life. I can hardly wait! Me at
69: It takes me all day to do now what I used to do in two hours. This is not
the definition of a slower pace that I had in mind.
Me at 49: In my golden years,
I’m going to never again set an alarm. I’ll just sleep until I’m good and done.
Me at 69: Thank you, bladder, for at least waking me up every few hours
instead of letting me sleep until I’m good and done.
Me at 49: In my golden years,
I’m gonna go where and when I want and do whatever strikes my fancy. Me at 69:
Thank God I don’t have to go anywhere or do anything today. Recliner and
blanket, here I come.
We’re such a perverse species,
aren’t we? Never happy, never satisfied, always looking with hopeful eyes to
that which comes next while at the same time being really worried about…. that which
comes next.
For me, the truth is that I’ve
learned to just take things as they come. I’ve somehow learned to not take
myself too seriously. To keep a good attitude and to hold on to my sense of
humor with both hands. That, right there, is a lifeline. I pity anyone who can’t
laugh at themselves.
I also have been given a faith
that anchors me. That, right there, is the best gift I’ve ever received.
Finally, I wouldn’t feel right
if I didn’t acknowledge that today is World Donkey Day. Not kidding, go check
Mr. Google. And in light of this auspicious occasion, I wish to pass on some
appropriately themed words of wisdom.
Those who do not understand
the difference between burro and burrow, don’t know their ass from a hole in
the ground.
Love,
Morgan
https://www.bookstrand.com/morgan-ashbury
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