The pines are gracefully silhouetted against the early morning sky, and through my window, I hear the beginnings of a brand new day. Birds with cheery hearts tweet their welcome with a full and lively song, and the cool air breezes gently in, which brings much refreshment.
The stillness out on the lake, mirrors the quiet of the landscape, and with the promise of the new day, there is hope that resonates, and the promise of love, laughter, and joy is felt from deep within.
There was the echo of a morning train far in the distance, and it’s call into the dawn, was like a rooster proudly signaling new beginnings of a day filled with promise, if I can just grab hold, and let the day reveal itself on its own terms…..all could be well.
My Mother was sleeping next door to my room, and I can now hear her quietly, with slipper clad feet slowly moving step by trepidacious quiet, step on the pine planked floor.
I hear her pause outside my room.. “everything ok Mum?”.. I softly inquire.
” Yes… I’m just trying to find the bathroom,” she states.
” You are almost there.. just turn to your left, towards the light..”
“ Oh yes,” she responds, “ I see it now..”
This begins the morning routine. This is important. This is order. We need this knowing of what comes next, even for just the next five minutes… or… there is kaos…. unrest… and there would be no patience.
She returns to her room, because she is unsure of her path, but says, “ I was unsure where I was, but now when I get into this room…. I remember.”
Her needlepoint creations hang on her bedroom walls, and a poster print from Sitka, Alaska adorn the cozy, fragrant pine walls which surround her.
She seems comforted now.. because she knows.. for now… and that’s enough.. We reminisce about when she, and my Dad bought the pine bedroom furniture over 40 years ago. There is such clarity remembering the distant past. It baffles me how such detail can be recalled from long ago, and yet the present details often times confound her..
She chatters away about the details of her room, and takes her morning meds, with her coffee, a banana, and a rice pudding. Her faithful westie dog, Brody, lays quietly on her bed, all tucked in amongst the blankets.
He is the most loyal of little creatures, and I take my lead from him this morning. He seems to anticipate her morning routine, and just sits patiently, making “deep eye contact” with my Mother. His deep black coal like eyes glow with anticipation of her needs, and he waits expectedly to lick the inside of the rice pudding container that she has just polished off.
My Mother seems in very good spirits this morning, which is so encouraging, and I’m grateful.
When she remembers, she feels comforted, and is spurred on, and wants to decorate, and explore, and move furniture, and there is a sense of peace within her spirit.
I offer to turn on the tv for the morning news, and she agrees that she would like that.
For some reason, I need to be reminded that routine, and a sense of daily order is pertinent for life to make sense.
The unexpected, can be really terrifying for some… and adapting to unknown “triggers,” can cause great angst.
Im learning… gradually… and sometimes, or often times, it is from repetition on multiple levels that the lesson becomes imbedded within my brain, and new inroads are made.
These new realizations, and lessons invigorate , and create vision for how better to love one another.
I pray for patience, and then I laugh at myself for praying about this, because I am impatient in my prayer, which is counterproductive obviously, and I shake my head at my shortcomings.
Yesterday, my Mother swept the dock down, with an old straw broom, and pulled weeds all along the shoreline. She was in her own space, contentedly seeing a job that was tangible in front of her, and taking on the task with determined fervor.
The old greying dock is slightly damp beneath her feet, and slick under her tennis shoe clad feet.
My brother fishes quietly off the dock, and as he casts his line afar off, it feels like hope… for the future.
The lure sinks deep below the cool lake, and dangles tantalizingly down in the depths, looking to snag a rock bass, or maybe a pike… but there is expectation… and excitement in the unknown.
I went paddling about in my lime green kayak, and it was just the most serene experience… quiet, and rejuvenating.
Apparently it can also be used as a fishing vessel…. and thus far, neither he, nor I have tipped it over… probably just jinxed myself saying that now.
There is always sweeping to be done, since rusty colored pine needles, fallen to the forest floor, seem to be prolific in these northwoods, and they crunch under flip flopped wearing bare feet.
My Mother just really loves to sweep. I get it.. The sense of accomplishment, of putting to order, and seeing your task completed, this is a very soul satisfying endevour. Its the simple things… patience.. to see, to wait, and to know, and to let the day take you where it will, with a loose sense of the combined order of it all.
She will probably have sore tummy muscles later, but that is when the handy dandy heating pad in multiple couch and bed locations is essential. Enjoyment for the present work at hand is so invigorating, and I can see it all over her face… she is happy..
As I enter into the picture, I’m the “ bag it girl” who totes the pine needles and debris and carries it up the road, to dump it into the neighbors’ yard.. I’m so kidding… I dispose of it on our property, but I would love to set it on fire in true Grandpa Hayhoe style… but there is a fire ban on, so I squash the urge to build up a big, pouring on the gas beforehand, bonfire!
Those of you who are familiar with my Grandpa, know that his bon fires on the bay were quite legendary….if not down right terrifying..
Under the debris, I find treasures of old..They are nearly rotting away, but I resisitate them, because we all need to be brought back to life from time to time….
There is a hammock down on the dock, and when I see it, I’m always reminded of the obvious oxymoron of turmoil, and rest.
I want to lay it all down, I want to rest, but before doing this, I must unwind myself from the inner workings of my turmultuous mind, and allow the unraveling of the tightly wound rope inside to loosen.. to let the frayed parts heal… lighten up… and release.
When the rope unwinds, it allows the hammock to drop down to a negotiable level of climbing onto, and as soon as you lay down… well… who cares… you just relax… take a nap… and your whole world can rearrange itself….
My Mum is resting now, and feeling content.. this does my heart good….
It is well for thus moment..
We decided to take a car ride into a the town of Port Carling for lunch, and to shop around. This promises to be an enjoyable experience, and one that will fill the memories coiffures of our minds.
As we were waiting for our lunch at an outdoor cafe set on the deck overlooking the lake, other patrons began pointing towards the rocks behind us.
There across the parking lot, wandering with intent purpose was s black bear, with a tan nose getting into the restaurant garbage containers.
This caused lots of excitement, and smiles, and we were all just staring at him with rapt fascination. Who knew this lunch would come with a show?….