More on Fall
There are things that trigger emotions and memories in me - this time of year being one, special songs being another. And, there are things that happen in daily life that influence how I feel about myself, my future, and that of those around me.
Yesterday, I was feeling pensive about several things, but not "blue" if you know what I mean. My daughter was home sick and I was worried about her missing school, about what impact her illness might have on her upcoming homecoming plans, and as a parent, I was dealing with the bogies of what kind of illness is this anyway? A cold? Strep? Ebola?
I was also running on a little less sleep than usual. Late night discussions with a friend had resulted in "relational difficulties" that haunted me and led to restlessness and an off kilter start to the day.
Then there was "the song."
I remember hitting the play button on the bedside CD player sometime last year and hearing Eva Cassidy's voice emanating from the speaker. I had not touched the CD player since C's death and did not remember what was tuned up inside. Both C and I enjoyed listening to Eva and after I learned that C liked her, I went out and bought all the Cassidy CD's I could find. The Johnny Mercer tune of "Autumn Leaves" always seemed so poignant and after C's departure, it took on a whole new meaning for me.
So, when all of those things were combined, I was writing from a somewhat sensitive spot, but not from a depressed one. After posting to the blog, I went into town to meet an old friend for lunch and we spent a leisurely couple of hours conversing in a bistro where we were the only two customers. We talked about our lives and what each of us were doing. He, like me, lost his wife to cancer. Also like me, he does not need to hold down a 9-to-5 anymore. We talked about single parenthood (of the male variety), colleges for our kids, vacation plans, old friends, and music.
Music is what brought us together many, many years ago. We formed a duo once upon a time - a couple of hippyish folkies who attempted to play some Grateful Dead stuff along with songs about hookers and truck drivers. We were pretty bad, truth be told. But our love of music was true. My friend has resurrected his love of playing Dead tunes and now fronts a Dead tribute garage band. It is nice to see him so excited about that.
As we were saying our goodbye's outside the restaurant, I received a call from my sickie at home asking me to bring home some ice cream from a local vendor who hand makes all of the ice cream sold there. So, I swung by this place that is full of the scent of homemade waffle cones and calories, and picked up a pint of chocolate for my half-pint at home.
On the way back to my freeway entrance, I made a detour of a couple of blocks to drive by the old Queen Anne Victorian that was the first house that C and I bought and where both of our children were born (where we lived during those two events - not "where" they were born). It still looks beautiful. The stained glass windows I made and installed are still there - where I hope they will remain as long as the house stands. The trees in the yard are much bigger now than they were when I watched my toddlers careening around the yard.
The neighborhood looked spiffier as well. A couple of the older Victorians on the block were getting renovated and coated with new paint, though I noted that the brick duplex immediately across from our old home was as dilapidated as always and a thorn in the side of the neighbors I am sure.
After sitting there with the engine idling for a few minutes, I slowly moved on and headed for my much different life in a pocket community about eight miles north and a million years away. I was not sad, or blue, but full of feelings.
Today, my sick one went off to school for the first time in three days. Don't know if she'll make it through the day, but she will try. What more can any of us do?