Dog?
I was in the car at the rest area, waiting for George to do his business, when I noticed a woman sitting, then laying, on the ground in front of the building with her dog. The dog was sprawled on its side and the woman, who clearly loved her pet, was rubbing its belly. After a few moments, the dog stood and I realized it was quite large. Oddly for the 95 degree weather, it had on a coat similar to what might be draped on a horse in freezing temperatures. George walked past the pair as he returned to the car so I knew he had gotten a good look. “That certainly is a big dog,” I said as he settled into his seat. “No, darlin’,” he said in a tone that indicated he clearly thought I should be able to identify animals. “It’s a sheep.” Sheep? At a rest stop? Oh…that’s...
Confused Birds
The robin sat on our back fence with a clump of dried grass in his beak. We guessed he was building a nest, but he seemed content to sit rather than work. Five minutes passed. Then ten minutes, and he still sat there. Was he lost? Did he forget the directions the little wife gave? We could almost hear him thinking…. Where did she say it was? On a porch rafter? He looked to his right. On the floodlight next to the gutter? Then, to his left. In the tree behind me? He glanced over his right shoulder. Where is that nest? George and I empathized, reminded of our experience in a parking lot during a recent vacation. We came out of a store and couldn’t find our car. Where is it? I wondered. Didn’t I park in this row? No. I moved to the right. Was it this row? Still...
Birthday Surprise
The card I planned to send to Grandson Josiah for his second birthday was perfect, with its picture of Noah’s ark, animals two-by-two, and the sentiment that, “God sure likes the number two.” Before I mailed it, though, I showed it to George to share the cuteness. Good thing I did! He read it a bit more carefully than me and noted that the card also said, “hey birthday girl.” Oops. This granny is headed back to the card shop.
Grief
During my regular visit to Morningside Assisted Living facility this morning, I learned that one of my favorite residents, Mrs. Frances, has died. Frances is the one who always, without fail, requested The Warsaw Concerto when I asked for hymn requests. The concerto is not a sing-along number, but I tried to end every program with it–just for her. But no more. I feel a profound sense of loss, not only for Frances, but for George’s nephew, BJ, who died last Sunday, for my neighbor, Luanne, who lost her daughter-in-law a few months ago, and for so many others. Grief has been on my mind because of the way it irrevocably changes us and because of its constant presence, on the far side of the curtain. In the Wings Grief, standing in the wings, rues...
Heat
We stayed at the Peaks of Otter Lodge on the Blue Ridge Parkway recently, a place we’ve visited many times before. We expected the mountain air to be cooler, but the temperature was drastically lower, from somewhere in the sixties the day before, to freezing when we checked in. Brrr. I rarely touch a thermostat. I simply put on a jacket or socks when I get chilly. George, however, is a thermostat guy who constantly monitors and adjusts, whether at home or elsewhere, so I keep hands off. Which is what I did during our visit. I should add that the Peaks of Otter Lodge is an old hotel with baseboard heat and window air conditioner units. I noticed George went to bed wearing two shirts and long athletic pants, which was unusual. Then he asked me to find an extra...
The Wordless Nose
Who knew that words originate from the left nostril? I’ve scarcely written in the two months since I had a chunk of my nostril removed. I posted a brief essay about not taking my nose for granted, but other than that, everything I’ve tried to write has seemed dead and lifeless–like the piece of me that’s gone. I have excuses. (1) I couldn’t wear glasses for a number of weeks and couldn’t see to write. (2) I slept a lot during my recovery. (3) My brain isn’t getting enough oxygen since I can no longer breathe through my left nostril. So how do I get my words back? I was pinning my hopes on nose reconstruction, but that dream got shot to pieces when I saw the plastic surgeon. Transplanting cartilage and then covering it would require complex surgery involving...
Nose
I’ve spent a lifetime taking my nose for granted. Sure, it’s driven me crazy from time to time, when it’s stuffy or runny. Colds and the flu are not fun. But it has functioned, and looked, like a normal nose, so I never thought much about it. I just had cancer cut out of my left nostril, removing most of the cartilage from that side of my nose. The top of my nose is now twisted to the left. Then I had cancer cut out above the right side of my lip, pulling the bottom of my nose to the right. My face now resembles one made of clay where the potter unexpectedly grabbed hold of the nose, gave it a good counterclockwise twist, then left it. Just like that. Oddly, he also left a blob of clay inside the left nostril, making it nearly impossible for air to get in or out....
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