Thanksgiving and WD-40
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Thanksgiving is a time
to reflect on changes,
to remember that we, too,
grow and change
from one season of life to another.
Thanksgiving is a time
of changing seasons,
when leaves turn golden
in Autumn's wake
and apples are crisp
in the first chill breezes of fall.
What a wonderful day with family and friends! Email wishes and phone calls back and forth punctuated the day. Some family and friends are celebrating elsewhere, yet I find my thoughts reaching out to them as if this geographic vastness were just an oversized Thanksgiving table. Verses like the ones above remind how life can change for any of us in only a moment. How different things can become for us, even when we are seemingly sitting still. At lunch, I noticed how my 86-year-old mother struggled to see, and how when she thought no one was looking, she would reach behind her chair hoping to touch her walker as if its very presence would somehow reassure. Then she would remember we had parked it in the resident’s “walker parking lot” next to the dining room and her eyes would search in that direction as if willing herself to have x-ray vision. My daughter, observing her grandmother, tenderly whispered, “We never know when our last holiday with her will be.” The sadness at that moment made breathing difficult. And yes, I know. We never know when any of us, regardless of age, will leave.
Reading the words of the verses this evening (since tomorrow is my birthday), I see the ages and chapters of my life in their rhythm. It’s a little spooky how much the above mentioned daughter, my spirited and delightful oldest child, looks like the me of 20 years ago. Really. I lose track of the passing years until our photos are taken together and the resulting image clearly jolts. I don’t mind the part of aging that carries wisdom and experience; I do mind the part where my body begins to defy and hesitate. Earlier this week our local paper carried a column, written by two pharmacists, wherein the healing powers of duct tape for warts and the like were revealed. Duct Tape, for goodness sake. I swear the stuff is almost as good as mother’s spit. But I don’t so much need duct tape as I need to borrow some WD-40. Preferably the spray kind…with the little nozzle. The first chill breezes of fall are nearby.
to reflect on changes,
to remember that we, too,
grow and change
from one season of life to another.
Thanksgiving is a time
of changing seasons,
when leaves turn golden
in Autumn's wake
and apples are crisp
in the first chill breezes of fall.
What a wonderful day with family and friends! Email wishes and phone calls back and forth punctuated the day. Some family and friends are celebrating elsewhere, yet I find my thoughts reaching out to them as if this geographic vastness were just an oversized Thanksgiving table. Verses like the ones above remind how life can change for any of us in only a moment. How different things can become for us, even when we are seemingly sitting still. At lunch, I noticed how my 86-year-old mother struggled to see, and how when she thought no one was looking, she would reach behind her chair hoping to touch her walker as if its very presence would somehow reassure. Then she would remember we had parked it in the resident’s “walker parking lot” next to the dining room and her eyes would search in that direction as if willing herself to have x-ray vision. My daughter, observing her grandmother, tenderly whispered, “We never know when our last holiday with her will be.” The sadness at that moment made breathing difficult. And yes, I know. We never know when any of us, regardless of age, will leave.
Reading the words of the verses this evening (since tomorrow is my birthday), I see the ages and chapters of my life in their rhythm. It’s a little spooky how much the above mentioned daughter, my spirited and delightful oldest child, looks like the me of 20 years ago. Really. I lose track of the passing years until our photos are taken together and the resulting image clearly jolts. I don’t mind the part of aging that carries wisdom and experience; I do mind the part where my body begins to defy and hesitate. Earlier this week our local paper carried a column, written by two pharmacists, wherein the healing powers of duct tape for warts and the like were revealed. Duct Tape, for goodness sake. I swear the stuff is almost as good as mother’s spit. But I don’t so much need duct tape as I need to borrow some WD-40. Preferably the spray kind…with the little nozzle. The first chill breezes of fall are nearby.
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