May 27, 2016

Nothing so grand as a workday Friday with a long weekend approaching.  How can it be, that there are days which feel like two, but years which seem sandwiched into one, losing the characteristics of a particular time into the blend of a lifetime?  Yes, it was a wonderfully draining day.

….Day after day, weeks into weeks, doing the same thing over and over along with others, doing the same thing over and over.  I am no superstar there.  I am a number.  And it is wonderful.  Day after day I learned what it was like to give myself safety.  I learned what it was like for me to walk toward the positive even if I did not understand or was scared of everything in my life.  Every day, the same thing.  And then I learned I was safe.

From myself.

I no longer had to be scared.

Of myself.

I realized….

I can trust myself.

I have a lot to learn.  How ridiculous my expectations…  A year ago, I was dreaming of how life would be – the golden door phenomena! I was dreaming of my own style of decor, the French I need to learn, or the practice of writing.  I did not even know who I was nor how to even take care of myself.  Not in theory, but in the daily grind.  I still dream those dreams but I am glad they never happened.  Yet.

I would not have earned it.

 

I really have no right to speak of Memorial Day. None whatsoever.  I have earned nothing for it…

Except…maybe so.  I remember.

And in that memory, like many people, lies the yester-years of my heritage and the yesterdays of my memory of my own life events.  I remember as I go forward, grateful for each day a chance to learn my lessons and live.

May 28, 2016

A day not going into work and ahead of me, two more days of the same.  At day’s end, it too, even though a Saturday, still seems like a day so full it feels like three.

It poured, pausing only briefly for a mid-afternoon tease of sunshine.  My lawn looks like I invoked the power of some dandelion goddess by naming this blog as I have.  

I began the day on a walk for a “cause” other than my own.  I had never done anything like it before.  I had worried that it was really a race and I misunderstood the whole concept.  Then I envisioned spandex-legged runners looking at me with disdain or pity.  I also thought I was late, because in the rainy fogged morning light, I could not see the gathering, drove right by and unknowingly outlined the course with my Jeep. On my return trip through the park, I saw the beginnings of a gathering, thinking I was the last of the crowd, only to find that no, I indeed was ….. the first one there..

I walked.  In the spots hidden by trees and limited view by another living soul…I ran.  Twice. About ten steps.  (it was the most awkward, freeing feeling!)  Nope, in my rain soaked red sweatshirt, torn jeans and my oldest beloved white tennies, there I was.  Officially number 344 on the path.

I also sold my camper.  In this one day that felt like three, I relived ten years of memories.  When we first bought it we had traded in a pop-up camper for this hard-side nouveau version with full refrigerator/freezer combo, complete bathroom and canvas beds.  I had just wanted to camp, but our camping turned into well….a bonanza of sorts.  Not the fault of anyone except a symptom of the ultimate uncoupling of a marriage.

I remember camping with my son, then a baby, in the pop-up.  When we traded up, I cried, kissing my beloved pop-up good-bye.  But the new camper was handier with conveniences of home plus…I could get everyone to camp!  The same year we traded up, on a camping trip ‘up north’ here in Wisconsin, our friends had a permanent camper called a park home.  A camper that was even more like home, but in a camp ground, in one site.  There was one for sale near them.  And of course, we bought it. Now we did not even need to pull a camper.

No complaints, but now, on retrospect, I find it all hard to believe.  No wonder my parents just shook their heads in disbelief.  It took four years for the next upgrade to an even bigger, newer park home.  Oh, but there were times.  My favorite?  My son was small, four years old.  He and I and Gromit, our Gordon Setter, would be the first to open up for the season.  A whole campground with only us, the campground owners, their workers, and maybe four other ‘seasonals’ out of two hundred sites.

The water was not even turned on for fear of more frosts.  It was the end of April in northern Wisconsin, when a person would expect fifty degree sunlit days sparkling through budded trees and crispy nights with opened windows.  We would clean a bit, ride bikes, and enjoy the challenge of accomplishing the most basics of daily life like brushing teeth and bathroom breaks.  I would fill an emptied plastic storage container, still smelling of dryer sheets which had been tucked between stored towels, with water heated on the stove.  A bath while in the living room?  Sure! Why not?

In the evenings he would play with toys as we watched one of those television shows which spotlighted the conversion of 9-5 automobiles into heavenly, over-the-top creations which looked like dreams with flames and purred like giant kittens.  We would fall asleep, the two of us tucked in safely with the dog.

Yep. It only took four years before we ‘upgraded’ again.  I had forgotten.  All I wanted to do was camp.

I guess that answers a question which has plagued me the last few years.  How could I have forgotten how much I loved looking at the stars at night?

I thank G-d every day… because it took not one knee surgery, but two, for me to remember….

I did cry a bit, but then I laughed at the memories.  Even the sad ones made me smile a bit.  I had lived.

And today I sold my camper.

Now, among the challenges of life is a garage whose contents now include camper items, ex-husband items, an emptied storage unit and years of accumulation from not only me but my over-generous mother.

A lesson:  I never did wish for “easy”.  Be careful what you wish for.  G-d has a way of granting what ones heart desires…

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The other day, as a result of my ‘business meeting’, I celebrated the creation of my first file folder complete with contents thought through and inserted carefully.. then I actually placed the folder in the file cabinet rather than laid it for further thought.  Nope.  I did it. My own personal triumph of paperwork celebrating that I may not know what I am doing and could possibly need to change it later, but change and improvement later might be actual improvement if I start halfway up the proverbial mountain.

Today.  I did it again….

I am immensely proud.

Paradox?  I feel a wind of creativity hitting me….

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Happy Memorial Day.  May your memories… well, may they be yours..

Love and Blessings,

Stephanie

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