Yesterday morning, Jonathan and I wept over breakfast after reading this poignant cartoon sent by Anna. This evening, we bring her to the vet to say goodbye. Even now, as I peck at my computer, Kate’s head lifts from the floor when she detects motion – “Do you need me? Everything okay?” If I head to the bathroom she follows, limping, guarding the doorway (which I leave open for her). She knows she can’t enter the narrow space any more; backing up is impossible, so she makes her painstaking way, ker-flump, to the floor, waiting for my next move. Kate’s had two good days in this cooling weather, which is alternately gratifying and heart-wrenching. She works so hard, gets so worn out, collapses, pants heavily. It’s clear that her life is more burdensome than enjoyable, but oh, there is still joy! Quiet devotion, good things to eat, neck rubs, all those happy moments of reunion when we return from the store, or from upstairs. I remember when my mom was ready to die, and I wasn’t ready to let her go. I appealed to her, pointing out those moments of joy that still entered her days. “It’s not enough,” she said. We will release Kate from the burden of days. I’ll sink my fingers into the thick brush of fur on her neck, massaging as her eyes close, loving as she slips away. My 60th year in 60,000 words Day 356: 232 words, TOTAL = 58,517; 1,483 remaining
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Despite Tessa and Chris delaying their big event for a year, they continue to carry out adapted wedding and pre-wedding events. We’re excitedly anticipating our family gathering on Sutton Island for their official union this September, particularly since all of our offspring have managed to get time off beyond the weekend. I’m sending hopeful prayers to the powers that be that no one gets sick before or after, that no new surges or added restrictions obstruct our plans, and that joy will outweigh worry during our congregating. Moms don’t usually attend bachelorette parties, but I was invited as a surprise guest to one hour of Tessa’s daylong, Zoomed hilarity with her best pals. Everyone received boxes in the mail with paints, canvas, and brushes for a remote paint-and-sip event, along with raunchy, phallic party favors. I was a bit worried that our guided painting task would involve a penis, but it was just an autumn scene. Whew. My 60th year in 60,000 words Day 355: 157 words, TOTAL = 58,285; 1,715 remaining People-watching is one of those things I didn’t wholly appreciate pre-COVID. J and I had breakfast in downtown Bangor today, where they’ve made efforts to maximize outdoor seating. What is that lone woman working on at her computer? Job application? Remote school-work? A novel? Shoe-shopping? Checking her Twitter-feed? She has a far-off look, gazing periodically into the distance. I like to imagine something significant is going on. These two little boys with their grown-up, the happy shark backpack, the holding hands, what a tableau! Are they back-to-school shopping? Even though they might sticking with home-school? So many stories to imagine, surrounded by people. What will we do when winter closes us back into home isolation again? My 60th year in 60,000 words Day 354: 116 words, TOTAL = 58,128; 1,872 remaining Jonathan was a bit surprised some years ago when one of the items I chose to bring home as we cleaned out my parents’ place was a three-foot-high wooden pelican. Generally it’s the kind of clunker one gets as a wedding gift. What the heck are we going to do with THIS thing? None of us ever lived in Florida. There is no meaningful family lore behind Mr. Pelican; I have no idea where they found him or when. Nevertheless, he wears a charming expression, sitting there contentedly by my piano. A serene groundedness about his face and posture calms me. Maybe he just finished a good meal, or is keeping watch over the surf for the next one. He’s in no hurry. Maybe my Mom saw the same something there, and he kept quiet vigil over her house too. It doesn’t matter. He makes me happy. Everyone should have a whimsical friend or two, just to keep us company for no special reason. My 60th year in 60,000 words Day 353: 164 words, TOTAL = 58,012; 1,988 remaining To avoid the jammed parking lot at Acadia Mountain, I continued along 102 to the St. Sauveur Mountain Trailhead. I climbed the Ledge Trail and turned left on St. Sauveur Mountain Trail towards Acadia. Then I went right on the Man o’ War Brook Trail, the low road that skirts the base of Acadia. I used to consider wide, flat trails through the woods inferior to heights and vistas. But cool woods and gentle terrain were blissful on this sweltering summer day. I turned right up Valley Peak trail – there was my steep ascent. I only encountered a few small groups of fellow hikers, some masked, some speaking Russian, all conscientiously distancing. Stunning views include a sweep of all five Cranberry Islands. I waved hello to Sutton. Total loop: two hours. Lovely day of rocky outcroppings, jack pine, blue sky, grasshoppers clacking their castanet clicks in flight, and a friendly red squirrel who paused to say hello, but his mouth was full so he couldn’t speak. My 60th year in 60,000 words Day 352: 166 words, TOTAL = 57,848; 2,152 remaining Industriousness is held in high esteem – achieve, produce, accomplish, cross things off the list. The call to industry looms constantly in the background, urging me to action. But it’s too hot. Today, I’d like to be as industrious as this frog in my pond, who let me get within a foot of him so I could examine his handsome green snout, the golden rim around his eye, the soft webbing between his toes. I didn’t get closer. Why disturb someone so peacefully still and content? He’s breathing, resting, probably keeping watch for food opportunities, perhaps digesting, cooling his belly. That is a lot of industry right there. Why can’t it be enough for me? My 60th year in 60,000 words Day 351: 114 words, TOTAL = 57,682; 2,318 remaining One of the best things about aging is embracing the dark. I spent most of my life (maybe fifty years of it!) imbued with a deep-rooted fear of nighttime’s shrouded spaces. It was a constant undercurrent, mostly manageable, occasionally disabling. I never spent a night alone in my childhood home. I tried once as a teenager and fled to a friend’s house at 2:00 in the morning. What changed? I hypothesize that menopause, somehow, erased my fears along with my fertility. Several allergies disappeared at the same time. Maybe I was allergic to the dark. Could it be that darkness and death are linked? Was it actually a cloaked fear of death and dying? Perhaps. I certainly don’t want to die yet, but death holds less terror for me than it once did. Whatever it was, I am grateful. Now I relish the black velvety embrace of darkness, the anonymity, the heightened sensory receptors ignited in the absence of visible stimuli, the twinkling lights of the cosmos, the quiet whir of insects in a sleeping world. I missed so much. Have to make up for lost time. My 60th year in 60,000 words Day 350: 187 words, TOTAL = 57,568; 2,432 remaining These dog days of August all sultry and lazy awaken painstakingly, dampened and hazy. Thick air fogs my brain as it fogs up my glasses, and mushrooms like bread dough expand through the grasses. Alongside our green algae-carpeted pond grow goldenrod, milkweed, and proud cattail frond. The bold black-eyed Susan reveals her bright face, as fields grow abloom with fine-frilled Queen Anne’s lace. Round ripening acorns and blackberries’ sweetness Fulfill to o’erflowing high summer’s completeness. My 60th year in 60,000 words Day 349: 75 words, TOTAL = 57,381; 2,619 remaining You Raise Me Up (composed by Josh Groban), performed by Robin on piano and her marvelously talented son-in-law on vocals. Fiona is pictured with me at the piano just because she's cute. I was today’s church service musician, which meant a six-week crash course in audio technology. Live music on Zoom is disastrous, so remote services require pre-recorded music. I thought it would be simple. Nope. Live performance errors disappear into the whole, reverberant experience. Recorded errors live on, forever reminders of imperfection. Therefore, lots of do-overs. (Pro-tip: remove dogs from room before recording). Okay – I got through the piano solos. Then there were the piano/vocal dual-track pieces, two on my own (yikes!) and one with my son-in-law’s heart-stirring vocals recorded in his Michigan basement. Wow. I called on tech-savvy family members, tried Audacity (problematic on Mac), dove into GarageBand. I downloaded the manual for our Yamaha Clavinova, having never used its fancy electronic features. My favorite “cheat” speeds up your recordings to sound like you’ve played tough pieces really fast. It’s been a while since I’ve had to study and learn new technologies. I should do it more. Aggravating as it is en route, I am uplifted (raised up!) by the final destination: new proficiency and a stirring product. Thanks, Robert! (But, omg, How the heck do they produce those 100-person remote-recorded performances?) My 60th year in 60,000 words Day 348: 192 words, TOTAL = 57,306; 2,694 remaining Text message from Nellie, Mike, and Fiona: “Where are you and Dad going to be this weekend?” “Home. Dad’s working. Why do you ask?” “We’re thinking of maybe driving up for a visit.” Keep cool, don’t scare them off with over-exuberance “Oh that would be great. Just let us know.” … a few hours later “We’re coming!” “YAY YAY YAY YAY YAY!!!” 11:30am, Fiona, long overdue for naptime, finally fell asleep against my shoulder, my favorite Grandma position. Now she’s napping while Mom and Dad go find a swimming hole. I like this job. My 60th year in 60,000 words Day 347: 94 words, TOTAL = 57,114; 2,886 remaining |
AuthorRobin Clifford Wood is an award-winning author, poet, and writing teacher. She lives in central Maine with her husband, loves to be outdoors, and enjoys ever-expanding horizons through her children, grandchildren, and granddogs. Archives
December 2024
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