I’ve never been good at being sick. I lay in bed, feeling immensely sorry for myself, and whine a lot. I also fret about all the things that I’m supposed to be doing, but can’t do because I’m sick. I know when I don’t go to the animal shelter to walk the dogs, the other volunteers have to walk even more dogs than usual. And even if I had the energy to babysit my grandkids or help my mom, I can’t risk giving them my germs. So between the misery and the guilt, my mood is very dark when I’m under the weather.
The only thing that helps is remembering my illness won’t last forever and eventually, I’ll feel better. It rarely happens as quickly as I wish, but so far, I’ve managed to recover each time I’ve been sick or injured. Bearing that in mind really does help me cope when I’m lying in bed with my stomach doing flip flops and my head pounding. “This, too, shall pass,” I tell myself, as often as I need to until I can actually believe it.
Personally, I’ve found that remembering that tough times don’t last forever is very helpful, period. When my daughter tells me her baby kept her up most of the night, I sympathize because I remember just how sleep-deprived I was when my own children were young. But then I try to cheer her up by reminding her the time will come when both she and her baby will routinely get a good night’s sleep. When I’m watching my back yard wither in the dry and unrelenting heat of a drought, I remind myself that the rains will come again, as they always do. The grief that accompanies profound loss may never disappear, but it does become more bearable with time. Life may never be the same, and certainly not the way we want it to be, but there will be moments of joy and happiness again. Sometimes, we just have to wait it out.
Recently, my husband and I had the chance to visit Sanibel Island, which had been devastated by Hurricane Ian last September. We used to love the first sight of the island as we crossed the causeway, because it was beautiful and it meant our vacation had truly started. This time, the causeway was a mess of construction, the surrounding water was a dirty brown, and much of the greenery on the island was gone. Some buildings were intact, but others had gaping holes and others had been swept away entirely. Piles of refuse, waiting for pick up, lined many of the roads.
I’m not going to lie, the devastation did make us a bit heart-sick, especially for the residents who had lost so much. But we also saws unmistakable signs of recovery. Some businesses had reopened, and some bike paths were clear. We actually ate lunch at one of our favorite restaurants which had somehow come through unscathed. And through the restaurant’s windows we could see palm trees still standing. Their palms had blown off, but they were already growing new ones. It was a timely and much-needed reminder that “this, too, shall pass…..”
The lawn that looked so wonderful during our annual two weeks of Spring is now riddled with weeds and sporting a ton of brown spots from where our dog uses it as her bathroom. I’d rather not use harsh chemicals, so every year I spend hours pulling up the “creeping charlie” that spreads so fast it really ought to be named “sprinting charlie.” But no matter how many mounds of weeds I pull, I can never get rid of it. And no matter how many times my husband puts down new sod to replace the dead spots, it’s just a matter of time before my dog and her killer urine turn the grass brown again.
Still, all things come to an end, and this Summer will be no exception. Autumn will eventually arrive, followed by Winter and all that it has to offer. Beautiful snowfalls, cozy sweaters, tasty mugs of hot chocolate, and absolutely no mosquitoes. I can hardly wait…..
We’ve had lovely weather for the past few days, comfortably warm in the daytime and cool at night. It’s the kind of weather that makes it a joy to be outside. You’d think I’d be enjoying this break from Summer’s usual heat and humidity, and I am. Sort of. But the problem is, all the forecasts say this beautiful weather is going to be over far too soon. By the end of the week, we’re supposed to have temperatures in the high nineties, heat indexes over one-hundred degrees, and very high humidity levels. Which means that while I’m trying to enjoy the cool temperatures we’re experiencing now, I’m mostly dreading the horrible weather that’s coming.
When I was about six years old, I desperately wanted a pair of glasses. And not just any glasses, I wanted the “cat eye” framed glasses that were so popular at the time. My older sister had a pair and so did Susan Breneke, who I thought was the coolest kid in the entire first grade. I wanted those glasses so badly that I actually lied to my mother, telling her that far-away objects looked kind of fuzzy to me. (My sister had described her vision problems to me in detail, so I knew just what to say.) Unfortunately, my mom didn’t rush out and buy me a pair of glasses, which is what I thought would happen. She took me for an eye exam, and I passed with flying colors. I never did get those glasses.
I should have paid just a little more attention to the details. The prediction wasn’t just for rain, it was for tons of rain, falling for three days and two nights, often quite heavily. The empty flower pots I have lined up next to garage, waiting to be filled with spring flowers, are now completely full of water instead. My house and neighborhood is on high ground, but hundreds of people in my area are faced with flash floods, rising rivers, and water in their basements. All I wanted was enough rain to water my plants and wash away the pollen. But what I got was enough to make me think it might be time to start work on an ark.
I was so sure that the house would be ours that when our agent called to say the sellers had already accepted another offer, I actually cried, just a little. I had been so happy that we had finally found the perfect house for our family, with plenty of room to grow into and loads of potential for a couple (like us) who were willing to do some rehab work. Losing that house was devastating, but all we could do was keep looking, and we eventually found another fixer-upper in the same neighborhood. It was smaller (three-bedroom, one bath), but it was in our budget and although we weren’t particularly excited about it, we decided it would do.
Muddling Through My Middle Age 