This evening as I walked Ace we met a woman and her grown daughter pushing a baby stroller up the street. There was an intimacy in the way the grandmother coddled the infant and in the way the two adult women spoke with each other, 'tho their words were not English. I was struck with a certain solemnity realizing I will never have that kind of moment..with a grandchild.. with my daughter.
Shortly thereafter, from a dark parking lot I heard a man's voice speaking with another, the husky voice saying, "Yeah, my mom was born in 1922.. She's 88.." Surprising myself, I felt a little sting that he still has his mother.
"Mom," I think, "You've sure been a long time gone."
A young clerk in one of the shops along our walk whose boyfriend has been gone for months returned night before this, surprising her, she gleefully told me. She had such a glow, saying she doesn't remember when she's been so happy on a Tuesday! I feel joyful for her, remembering well what it was to be young and in love....
At the corner of the block, crossing the street kitty-wampus, an attractive, expensively dressed, gray-haired, older couple sporting very sparkling diamonds, stepped from a restaurant and paused to coo over Ace before moving on to their hundred thousand dollar automobile. I consider how the gentleman has not opted for some young chick, and observe a patient gentleness and tenderness between the two of them. I wonder how life may have been if my husband and I had grown old together...
"Love," I think, "You sure have been.... a long time gone."
And, I am filled with gratitude while I very patiently wait for this slow-ambling critter alongside me. He glances up at me as if to know my thoughts this evening and I am mindful how much of my relationship with him are in those glances...when he's sleeping and raises his head to see if I'm there...how he'll sit on his cushion and watch me for signals whether or not everything is ok...how the length of time of he holds eye contact can tell me he needs to go out, or it's time for his dinner. I can even tell if he's embarrassed...it shows up in his eyes..or when he's laughing and the shape of his eyes change a bit, the white showing a little more. I call those his "puppy eyes."
We're bound to have some real hot weather yet come September. Still in all, we are moving into autumn, and autumn holds title to the reflections of life. Even if there aren't dried leaves rustling about as a reminder of the cycle of life, the air itself is dredged with reminiscence, wafting above the sidewalks, perched on a streetlamp, slipping in and out between buildings, lacing among the trees, parking itself alongside curbs. See it waiting there...watching for you? Sometimes, it can trip you. I politely acknowledge it.
I do love autumn. It is my favorite season.
"We write to taste life twice: in the moment and in retrospection." ~Anais Nin
I think, maybe, autumn is nature's author.
Tuesday, August 30, 2011
Monday, August 29, 2011
Surely, it was clear, way back then, this was a budding gourmet cook...
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| Her first original recipe..maybe 4 yrs. old at the time.. |
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