Sorry to be so late today and not to have written a post yesterday. Yes, I was still doing home improvement work, and we didn’t even get to the tiling, though we’re hoping to do it this evening. By the time it was time to do it, we were so tired we were a danger to ourselves and others.
When I finish this post, I’ll go downstairs to finish the cabinet work, so only the tile remains tonight.
A bitter cold has set in, so cutting the tiles outside is going to be “fun.”
We’ll warm up a little in the next week, but right now it reminds me of the ionic autumn of my childhood, what I think of when people say “November” (which accounting for differences in altitude is about the same as October in CO.)
When you say “November” I think of tendrils of cold fog, of wood smoke, of grandma in her patio, breaking wood for winter.
I think I’d been very ill, when I saw her do that, because I was surprised at how cold and dark it was, and took great comfort in knowing grandma was preparing wood for the Franklin stove in winter.
I think she was sixty three, so seven years older than I’m now, which is weird, because in my mind I’m still that little three year old standing in the doorway, watching her break wood. I’m still startled she’s gone, every time, and she’s been gone 26 years.
Our minds don’t age with your bodies, or not the same way. I mean, I hope I know more and am more mature than I was at three… At least on the good days.
But I keep forgetting I don’t have the energy and the strength of my twenties. I’m so completely not in touch with my body, that I’ve been very worried all through September by my inability to write. I thought there must be a psychological reason for it.
That is, until I got up early on Friday to do some work for PJ and found I couldn’t, and realized it’s not block, just bone-deep weariness.
I swear I’ve not been doing that much, just a little work around the house, stuff that would have taken me a few days 20 years ago.
TWENTY years ago seems a lifetime away.
And part of the problem is that I’m now feeling better, which feels like I woke up after a 20 year long slumber. And I’m not as young as I used to be.
It’s nothing serious… yet. It’s just getting tired a little earlier, running a little slower, not having as much upper body strength.
If I can figure it out, I’ll be fine. Hopefully by May younger son will be off the payroll (he already lives elsewhere.) And older son should be fully independent by the end of the year and married early next year.
That’s not so hard to get used to. I’m ready to stop being mommy (though I’ll always want to see them) and pay more attention to my writing, my career, and, most of all, my husband.
I can see glimmers ahead of a new phase in life. Grandma lived to 88 and was clear and able to the last week of life. I’m hoping (at least) for the same. And I’m looking forward to it, in a way: to a time when we’re just responsible for the two of us, and can come and go as we please, and be spontaneous if we wish.
The natural preserve behind the house is full of gold and red as the leaves turn.
Yes, Autumn was always my favorite season, and as my life is about to enter it, I’m trying to figure out how to make it very good indeed.
But now I have some cabinetry to finish. Before the snow comes.