This summer has been a literal curse and it has been brutal. I have hated every minute of it. No rain, no help, no flowers, no grass, no life, no bluebirds and the meadow larks are long gone. There has only been death and grasshoppers, dead grass, bees and snakes. NO JOY!
I have been in pain for 24/7 since March. And why? Because the only thing we can grow is boulders. I am tired of hurting. I am tired of having to run to town when my home decays all around me. I have peaked. I’m out.
My son will be moving on soon. And that is as it should be. He needs to establish his own life, build his own home. He needs to prepare financially to make the right decisions for his someday family. And that is exactly what he is doing. I could not be more proud. There are not many 22 year old men that are making the wise decisions he is making. There are not many men his age that have put so much direction into his career, believing he is following God’s calling - His mission. I could not be more proud. I want to shout it from the roof tops all of his accomplishments. He is to be commended and supported. I will support him with my very last breath. He has done things right.
But at the same time, I am already missing his presence. I cry to think that he will not be coming home here from his job, or waking up to say “Good morning, how did you sleep?” But that’s ok. It is as it should be and I would never hold him back or want it any other way. He is to leave his mother and father; and just as importantly his parents are to let him. We will share in his joy. I will NOT be distracted from his joy and accomplishments.
At the same time, the changes in his life, and the blasted curse of a summer we have had, has made me realize it may be time for a change in my life as well. My husband works hard, and he does not have time to care for 10 acres when he has a day off. We somehow have become old. The whole reason for our home has been for our son. To give him the kind of life we chose for him. I had hoped to have a place from his childhood that he could someday bring his kids to share his fond memories. A place to come back to. But I am just not sure I can hold on...to this one, at least.
I cannot bend over to tend to my garden, it has laid to waste. I cannot ride my horse, I can no longer clean the stalls. Today, I thought I would finally get to the lawn, but I have not enough strength to start the mower. Yep! I’m angry at my inability! So I decided to come in and write and whine. Shed a few tears of discouragement, disappointment and frustration…and write and whine some more. It hurts to walk and push the mower, anyway!
And yes, I am going to post this! No one has to read it! No one likes complaining, but I feel the need to vent.
I have watered until I am blue in the face, and yet it has not been enough. It is as dry after as if I had never watered.
Sidetrack - You know how the flies get in August? All lethargic, but just spinning, spinning, spinning and they just won’t land so you can kill them. They have been that way since June. And there is one spinning around me that I just can’t kill. He is making himself a nuisance as I type – a crummy reminder of this entire no-good-for-nothing, lousy summer. I hate flies. Usually they don’t last long in my house. I can’t get this one. He has landed on my head, on my hand, and buzzed around and around tormenting me. - End Sidetrack
Someone gave me a beautiful grape plant. Someone I love. Brought it to me all the way from Seattle and kept it for me for the week he spent on vacation in Montana, because we missed each the first time through. He cared for it and kept it healthy. After he gave it to me, I put it on my deck to plant it a bit later, but in my crazy life of run, run, run, I forgot to water it and now it is barely hanging on with a thread. How could I do that to a gift I cherish!!!!! Because I barely have a brain left!! That’s how!
|Symbolically - My Life|
My windows need washing, I can’t get to it. The dump pile my husband continues to make, which I have continually tried to clear to make the entrance to the house look better, has now become the dump pile he has always wanted. I can’t clear it any more. The neighbors are mean. The dogs old. It is time to give up.
There have been no quiet moments in the yard, no evenings or mornings on the porch. No star filled night sky, no barbeques. No rides in the woods, no company, no peace, no joy. Only time to put out the most current fire and the next and the next and the next. And in passing, I watch with concern the conflicts placed on those I love the most, with an inability to make anything better.
I will never move to the city. EVER!!!!!!!!!!!!! “Never say never”!!!!! WHATEVER!!!! Somewhere there is a place for us - for our next home. I got a clue this morning that my husband is thinking this way too. "Somewhere without acreage!!" he said. Maybe that float home my son found. Ha! We have somehow become old before our time.
We will move somewhere that I never have to see Highway 95 again!! Somewhere I don’t have to look out to failed pasture, and dried up lawn eaten up further by a plague of grasshoppers. Somewhere where I can give up and give in and simply settle for next best because our dreams no longer have place. Time to find a new dream. I know I will when the mourning is over. Time is all.
Going to the shower to sing the Doxology…and I will come out refreshed...just in time to tackle 95.