YellowLotus of Bliss
Apr. 25th, 2024 10:11 pm![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
ismoI went for a walk after supper, when the wind had died down and the air seemed softer. Most of the busy neighbors briskly walking their dogs had gone away. I needed some peace and quiet. All the same, I ran into a few neighbors, but they were the calm kind who didn't have much to say: one was working on his car in the driveway, one was mowing his lawn, and the last, as I was returning home, was (I think) delivering some door dash or some such, and gave me a big smile and asked how my day was going. We agreed it was a beautiful one.
Nevertheless I ended up feeling sad again. There's a little white house on the corner that always had such nice flowerbeds. The owner, an old lady, was frequently seen working around the yard, weeding, planting, or watering, and it was clearly her joy. I often waved to her and briefly complimented her flowers. Last year, in late summer or fall, she actually crossed the street to speak to me, and we introduced ourselves. Her name was Margie. At first I was pleased to meet another neighbor, but there was something about her that made me uneasy. A look of anxiety, a way of fidgeting with her shirt . . . "Oh, dear, she has dementia," I thought. And then I chided myself and said I was just getting obsessive on the subject because I've seen so much of it! Then, for a time, a younger couple were around the place, walking their Airedales and looking quite at home. Margie said she was going to visit her daughter, but she didn't seem 100% happy about it. As winter came, the house started to look empty. "Oh, she's probably in Florida with her daughter," I thought. Then spring came, but I never saw her outside. And now a For Sale sign has appeared in her yard. I guess I was right after all.
"As for man, his days are as grass: as a flower of the field, so he flourisheth.
For the wind passeth over it, and it is gone; and the place thereof shall know it no more."
On a more cheerful subject, today is the Nipper's birthday. We sent him a couple of books about 15th century swordsmanship, his current hobby. He and the Sparrowhawk are still discussing what equipment to add to this. In some previous year, we gave him some axes. We really need to save up to buy him a longship, and then he can either hoist the flag of piracy, or found a colony on the north shore of Ireland and declare himself a jarl. Someone in the family should take up a really worthwhile and lucrative profession.
Nevertheless I ended up feeling sad again. There's a little white house on the corner that always had such nice flowerbeds. The owner, an old lady, was frequently seen working around the yard, weeding, planting, or watering, and it was clearly her joy. I often waved to her and briefly complimented her flowers. Last year, in late summer or fall, she actually crossed the street to speak to me, and we introduced ourselves. Her name was Margie. At first I was pleased to meet another neighbor, but there was something about her that made me uneasy. A look of anxiety, a way of fidgeting with her shirt . . . "Oh, dear, she has dementia," I thought. And then I chided myself and said I was just getting obsessive on the subject because I've seen so much of it! Then, for a time, a younger couple were around the place, walking their Airedales and looking quite at home. Margie said she was going to visit her daughter, but she didn't seem 100% happy about it. As winter came, the house started to look empty. "Oh, she's probably in Florida with her daughter," I thought. Then spring came, but I never saw her outside. And now a For Sale sign has appeared in her yard. I guess I was right after all.
"As for man, his days are as grass: as a flower of the field, so he flourisheth.
For the wind passeth over it, and it is gone; and the place thereof shall know it no more."
On a more cheerful subject, today is the Nipper's birthday. We sent him a couple of books about 15th century swordsmanship, his current hobby. He and the Sparrowhawk are still discussing what equipment to add to this. In some previous year, we gave him some axes. We really need to save up to buy him a longship, and then he can either hoist the flag of piracy, or found a colony on the north shore of Ireland and declare himself a jarl. Someone in the family should take up a really worthwhile and lucrative profession.
no subject
Date: 2024-04-26 03:54 pm (UTC)