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Chokecherry of Leave
Sep. 11th, 2021 10:18 pmToday it was warm, over 80 again. And yet, when the wind blows, there's a taste of fall in it. The summery heat has a fragility at its heart. We went to the downtown market to buy pastries for the Sparrowhawk's birthday breakfast tomorrow. It's a big open space with the counters around the sides, and it wasn't very crowded, even on a Saturday. But it was more people than I've seen in quite awhile. It freaked me out. I so much want to go places and do things and see people, but it's been so long since I could, and now it worries me when I do. This is making us all crazy, I think. Maybe there are people out there who are handling it really well, but I don't really think I'm one of them. The Sparrowhawk turned 70, and it should have been a big celebration. Now it's already a year later, and he's about to turn 71, and everything is still so messed up. In the great scheme of things, I am fine and have no complaints. On a day like today, especially. I just can't help noticing from time to time.
We didn't watch any tv today. I turned on the radio in the car, and they were reading The Names. I quickly turned it off again. When we got home, I put on a random assortment of CDs that were sitting around. One of them was a collection of symphonic band pieces, which was great until they came to the end and played "Eternal Father, Strong to Save," followed by Taps. Oh dear. But nothing assuages poignant grief like something very down to earth--like, bangers and mash with veg, which is what we had for supper. I had provided a sort of pre-cake--some tiny cupcakes--in honor of the Sparrowhawk's mother, whose birthday was today. She was only 33 when she died. We went to church today, and they sang her favorite hymn.
I watered my garden at twilight, and there was a good smell of grateful wet plants--tomato leaves, basil. One beautiful golden sunflower is blooming between two tomato plants. It was self-seeded, I don't know from where, and I recognized it as something that shouldn't be pulled up. So now I'm reaping the rewards of my indulgence. It's amazing how much you can love one flower.
We didn't watch any tv today. I turned on the radio in the car, and they were reading The Names. I quickly turned it off again. When we got home, I put on a random assortment of CDs that were sitting around. One of them was a collection of symphonic band pieces, which was great until they came to the end and played "Eternal Father, Strong to Save," followed by Taps. Oh dear. But nothing assuages poignant grief like something very down to earth--like, bangers and mash with veg, which is what we had for supper. I had provided a sort of pre-cake--some tiny cupcakes--in honor of the Sparrowhawk's mother, whose birthday was today. She was only 33 when she died. We went to church today, and they sang her favorite hymn.
I watered my garden at twilight, and there was a good smell of grateful wet plants--tomato leaves, basil. One beautiful golden sunflower is blooming between two tomato plants. It was self-seeded, I don't know from where, and I recognized it as something that shouldn't be pulled up. So now I'm reaping the rewards of my indulgence. It's amazing how much you can love one flower.
