Saturday, November 24, 2018

Peace and freedom

November 24, 2018

The new normal is here. 

In my world, Thanksgiving has ceased to be the traditional tableau. This shift has been a gradual thing over many years. Children marry and move away. Friends abandon us to meet the demands of their own spouses and families. Grandparents pass from this life. Siblings become grandparents. Parents age. We age.

I passed our day of Thanksgiving quietly. We decided to keep our meal small and simple. Never as a younger woman would I have thought my Thanksgiving table would be set for only two. With his health issues, next year it may be set for only one. With each year I become more and more of a statistic. 

Curious as to my comments on the holiday last year, I scrolled back and discovered one of the few poems I've written.  I'd actually forgotten I did that. It reminded me that last year, as with this year, it was just the two of us. 

There's something to be said for quiet, private celebrations in the midst of the chaos modern living has become. We had no timetable. We let the turkey dictate the time we prepared everything else. There was no need to rush. No stress of having to have food ready as guests arrived to partake of it. The turkey landed on a platter to rest and then we cooked. 

We ate a lot less, let me tell you. Without witnesses, Deuce got more turkey, too. Loki apparently doesn't like poultry, silly cat that he is. And horror of horrors, the pumpkin pie is still unbaked. I think I'll do that today. Pie, with a glass of eggnog, can be our supper. Deuce can have a shot of whipped cream. Yes, we are now freed of Thanksgiving obligation to eat in traditional form. 

I feel as though I've transitioned into a singular place unexpected. I wonder if people accustomed to sitting in the midst of a huge gathering fear to arrive at such a place? It's not so bad, you know. 

This stepping back from the world brings peace and freedom. One by one those whom I love have been stripped from me, changing my life but not who I am at my core. I've paused to take a breath but now I'm ready to once again forge ahead. 

Peace and freedom may be my new mantra. 

KC Kendricks

Thursday, November 15, 2018

And then it snowed

The view ahead on the way home 11/15/18 at 10 AM
November 15, 2018

I've been MIA for the last ten days. It seems like everything in my sphere needed a spin or a brake applied. Just when it seemed I was getting control back, it snowed. A lot. Don't misunderstand me - I like snow days. It's just I've got a lot to do at the moment.

Last week the spousal unit had a consultation at the University of Maryland. His surgery is scheduled for December 14. Happy Holidays, anyone? He'll be there a week and then go to a rehab facility for at least a week. I've promised Deuce ice cream to ease our separation anxiety. 

We've been apart some over the last twenty-five years. He's had other surgeries. He's gone to visit his brothers while I stayed home to take care of the dog. I've attending writing conferences and such on my own. I guess I'm not looking forward to this because of the time of year. I'll be alone for Christmas for the first time since 1992. I think I've gotten used to the man being around. But if it snows for Christmas, I'll be fine. Between the pickup and the John Deere, Deuce and I won't be stuck. 

My work-in-progress languishes. I've not opened the file in two weeks. Perhaps I should be working on it now, but I've decided to pursue those things I can complete this day. With the snow falling, everyone at the day job loaded up what work could be done from home computers and headed out. My four tasks are saved and emailed back to myself to retrieve tomorrow morning. I've updated my checkbook program and taken Deuce for a snowy walk. And since my blog is as much for me as for you, dear readers, I've blogged. 

Now I think I'll take a moment to enjoy a cup of tea and watch the snow fall.  Loki insists he wants to give the snow another look-see. I'll open the door for him and see how it goes. I predict he'll back up instead of step into the snow. He's not a stupid cat. 

Forward we go. I suspect this snow will melt quickly, but it's not a good sign for this winter. I may be blogging about snow a lot. 


Sunday, November 4, 2018

Seasonal addictions

November 4, 2018

Autumn is here. I observe the seasonal changes around me with a wonder that never seems to fade. Out in my woods, I'm still a child, soaking up the mysteries like a sponge. In autumn, I see the world preparing for rest while celebrating the passing of another bountiful summer. 

I've had my share of trials and tribulations this summer just past, but hasn't everyone? As I edge toward my own autumn I'm inspired by October. I've seen the bloom of spring, endured the heat of summer. Now begins the time for me to wrap myself in my finest colors and face the sun without fear. Winter, with the pristine beauty of her deep sleep, will arrive soon enough. I will be like that final leaf, refusing to fall until the wind seduces me with his promise of freedom. 

The end of summer brings the end to a few more things. I have a confession to make. I’m a Blizzard addict. Yes, that’s the sad, ugly truth. This has been the summer of my addiction.

I’m not sure how it all started. (Yes, I am but I don’t want to put the blame on my best friend’s shoulder even though she’s the one who forced me to go to the Dairy Queen one late night when they had Key Lime Pie as a flavor.) It doesn’t matter how, but that first Blizzard was my undoing.  

I was able to resist the lure of that creamy, soft, icy, smooth confection for months. Then, one miserably hot day, I was on my way back to work at the end of my lunch break and I acted on impulse. I made that fatal right-hand turn into the drive-thru. Do you know how many calories are in a Chocolate Chip Cookie Dough Blizzard? Me neither. And please don’t tell me.

So there it is. My secret. I’m standing up in front of everyone and admitting – I’m a Blizzard addict. It could be much worse. I hope that with the coming of cold weather I can put the habit behind me. We'll see, won't we?