The day started out so predictable:
drive to Lexington for my Friday morning coffee/chit-chat hour (which
has a way of morphing into 2 hours ๐). These are people that know me (from teen
years, forward) – these are people that knew Bob (the majority of his
life); these are people that understand what I am talking about when I
mention a place, a time in a particular era, a specific name: we have history
together. It is a pleasant way to spend a Friday morning.
The 3-hour roundabout started as
I was turning into Heron Pointe – I saw a Garage Sale Sign at the entrance
of the Park drive … and naturally had to go check it out.
It was the 1st sale
of the year: I was drawn like a moth to the flame.
I should have backed out before
I even got all the way through the carport: I could smell the air freshener at
the curb – it was that strong. The odor reminded me of those cheap pine tree
shaped car fresheners sold at gas stations. Walking into that garage sale stole
my breath. Literally. But, like the moth drawn to the flame, I was pulled in. I
spent about half an hour pawing through the stuff, trying not to breathe
too deeply/too much … and walked away with $5 worth of goodies: eight
paperback books, candles – three different types (I only burn the tea light
candles, but the tapers are pretty to look at in the candlesticks ๐), a
trivet, sheer contact paper that I use to ‘shield’ my paper membership cards (which
I did as soon as I got home), a wooden plaque that so fits my
laidback hausfrau attitude, and a few crafty odds-n-ends I can use to trim the
crochet book covers I make (it should have cost more, but it was after 1 PM,
and the sellers didn’t feel like haggling). I washed e.v.e.r.y.t.h.i.n.g.
with a light solution of bleach and water to get rid of that lingering/cloying
air freshener scent – I read in bed, I don’t want to have an asthma
attack while enjoying a good read.
Then I changed my shoes, and
went for a walk at Willow Grove Park.
The
weather was perfect for a walk … and I needed to breathe some fresh air into my
burning lungs.
I talked with people I met on the trail.
I enjoyed the sunshine.
I petted a friendly dog.
I paused briefly as I was
rounding the upper end of the looping trail – the toe of my hiking boot almost
stepped on a heart shaped leaf; the heart-shaped leaf spoke perfectly to me,
without actually having an audible voice.
And I
did not cry at the sight of it; or at the message it spoke to my heart.
There’s still a hole in my heart.
There are many reasons a hole exists in my heart; the loss of the love of my
life, just enlarged it: no one else can see it – strangers crossing paths
with me are not aware of it; but I feel it, I know it’s there. But
the raw edges have been cauterized by time/unfolding life over the 3
years, 2 months, and 4 days that I have been walking through this life on
Earth, alone.
cau·ter·ize /หkรดdษหrฤซz/verb
past tense: cauterized; past participle: cauterized; burn the skin or flesh of (a wound) with a heated instrument or caustic substance, typically to stop bleeding or prevent the wound from becoming infected.
I am learning to be happy again.
I didn’t know that would be possible, but it is.
All of my old life was consumed with my love for Bob, and
the add-ons of kids and grandkids throughout our 44 years as a family; when
all that ended with Bob’s last breath this side of Heaven, I was rootless.
Purposeless. I felt my life, though actually still a good life, was for
all intents and purposes, pointless.
But Elohei is a faithful,
loving, gentle, and generous God ๐
He never left me. His comforting
presence carried me through those first heart-rending 6 months of widowhood. Then,
in His compassion towards me, He sent people into my life that cemented
friendships (renewed old friendships, and flourishing new friendships)
with me; and taught me how to breathe again without choking on air … and
how to find happiness in a bleak and inimical world. They had all experienced
loss of one kind or another – they were wise counselors, and gentle/patient
coaches in this new game of life I have become an active participant in.
I will always be grateful.
The Seagulls - ‘Happy’ song: (https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=nC9xE4lAIq0)
As I rounded the upper end of
the trail and headed into the back roundabout to the car, I noticed that there
have been improvements, and new additions to the Park’s layout. Completed covered
picnic areas dot the landscape. Restrooms have been updated. There are
additional playthings in the kiddie playground area. Brand new benches have
been placed along the trail route.
Everytime
I’ve come walking here, something new is obvious.
Willow grove Park is not a large
Park – it is not wide, and it is not long: I can watch traffic on Ocean Beach
Highway, with the naked eye, across the width of Willow Grove community (which
includes the Park); and you can look down the length of it, to Stella,
which lies further upriver along another portion of Ocean Beach Highway – and watch
traffic there too, with the naked eye. Ocean Beach Highway is a very busy
stretch of roadway – cars are very visible from the walking trail.
Willow Grove appears to be roughly
the same size as Puget Island – the main island, not all the surrounding
areas combined that are included in the ‘island’ concept. Puget Island is 3
miles wide, and 7 miles long.
Walking through the small stand of alder trees flanking the trail, the pungent scent of unfurling new-growth-leaves, I’m mentally transported back to my childhood years in Minnesota – and the scent of the birch trees that surrounded my childhood home there. Alders are not birch trees … but there are similarities: white bark, and the pungent, similar, scent of the leaves. The difference is the shape of the leaves, and the skin of the bark (the bark is what attracts me): birch trees have a bark that peels away in fine layers, like curling paper; and sappy, fleshy, pink under-skin when the bark is peeled (and I peeled many birch logs as a girl in Minnesota). When the bark of alter trees start peeling, the peeling bark is hard ad coarse – and that means the tree is dying.
Alders and birches are both in the birch family (Betulaceae). You might say they're
cousins -- different genera, with alders in the genus Alnus and birches in
Betula. They're enough alike to be confusing, especially when they don't have
leaves.
The sky was as busy as the
beachfront, today ๐
It was enjoyable riverwalk day; a
45-minute walk was stretched into an hour walk by the pic-snapping stops, and chit-chat-noshing
along the way ๐
Leaving the Park, the car
notified me that the “maintenance required soon” had been upped to “maintenance
needs attention now” status … so, I drove to Dick Hanna’s Toyota in Kelso: the
Highlander is scheduled for next Tuesday afternoon.
And the return trip back home is
where the day’s final roundabout kicked in.
I was not about to
deal with frenzy of rush hour traffic again – one trip wading trough it was enough; I did a zigzag route
back home via Clark Street to Pacific Way … all backroads waaaay up in the
hill heights, off the main Ocean Beach ‘downtown’ drag.
Not
following a short direct route; circuitous.
"we need to
take a roundabout route to avoid rush hour traffic."
Later, I relaxed with a small
goblet of Shabbat wine after Supper – I deserved it after the rush hour madness to Kelso; Elohim commands/sanctions
it as a holy rite – and Yeshua exampled the drinking of wine on holy occasions.
The observance of Shabbat as a Holy Day Of Rest is encouraged for Jews, and
for Christians: the two are interlinked; there cannot be one without the
other (I happen to be both, physically as well as spiritually). Wine is encouraged/enjoyed
for happy occasions … happiness is the key word for today ๐
