Sixty-five…and Celebrating While Remembering

 Sixty-five. Not geriatric yet, but also no longer the youth I was. So many memories of what was, so many dreams unfulfilled, so many hopes for what ever future there may be. Contemplation of it all with each sip of coffee. My son wished me a “Good happy morning birthday” before leaving for work. My mother has called, her first words “happy birthday” then our conversation covered the usual topics before she ended the call to take care of dad. Ever the caregiver for others.

Currently one dog, Molly, is outside sprawled on the porch ever watchful for something to bark at while Bella naps beside my desk. Cricket the official cat is somewhere napping in one of her spots while the colony has eaten and separated for their own adventures. There is still one or two hummingbird that show up at the feeder running the yellow jackets away momentarily. Early morning sunlight creating a patchwork pattern across the yard. Somewhere deep in the woods a bird calls while up near the main road a neighbor’s small dog yaps happily, angrily, annoyingly? 

Sitting here alone, though not lonely. I have so many thoughts and memories as friends this morning. And yet, so many questions and concerns as well.

Looking back now, I realize that we would have been considered lower middle class. Poor but having no idea we were. We had the best life. We were safe. We never went hungry. We didn’t have a massive, expensive wardrobe but our clothing was clean and in good condition. My mother made a lot of my clothing and she was an amazing seamstress. We didn’t have a lot of material things, but oh what we did have.

Living on a dead end dirt road out in a rural area with at that time only four families we had an amazing life. We were gifted with space to roam. Limited at first then expanded as we grew in age and maturity…of sorts. My grandparents always grew the best vegetable gardens, but they also played a large part along with our parents in planted a garden of imagination in our life. The woods behind the houses, the dirt road and even the at that time wooded property across became many different adventure zones. Our grandfather would bring home things he found and helped us turn them into amazing creations.

Life though has a way of being that yellow brick road. You never know what you will meet along the way, what waits around that next curve. I made mistakes. I made wrong choices. There were moments so dark that I feared I would never see the light again. I was becoming resigned to what I had found myself in, only to be rescued and back at the one place where I could and would and did heal.

Sixty-five years. So much has happened. I look back and realize that what I thought was this amazing innocent time, was not. We were sheltered here. This place and our families protected us from much of the dark. My brothers have always been the stronger, I was and to a degree still am the dreamer, the believer. I, the naive who doesn’t want to lose the hope of goodness and trust.

I know there has always been division. I know there has always been racism and hate. Not just hate related to color but to choices. I know there has always been bullies and government that wants nothing but control. Why does it seem that it is only growing worse and not better? Should we not by now have reached a point of understanding? Should we now have reached a point where we can appreciate the differences, accepting each other for who we are? I wonder, and hold a concern for where we are headed. As a Christian, I know where my journey will end. As a Christian, I hurt for those who are not. I try to live my life, I try to speak in a way that shows love. I try, to plant a seed. All the while watching as the hate seems to grow. People so ready to spew venom and poison rather than hope and peace. The ugly seems to draw more attention than the beauty.

So it is my birthday. I have reached sixty-five, a milestone denied my husband and brother. Though I know the truth is where they are, is better, I still feel a tinge of guilt. Today, I don’t know how I will celebrate. I don’t know what I will do other than sip my coffee, watch the members of the cat colony play and reminisce of what was as contemplating what may be.

social distancing with my memories

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