Bougainvillea blossoms litter the yard like the tears of a passing angel. The pool, mid-repair, gapes like a wound. Another one.
Birdsongs I don’t recognize stitch at the margins of sky. I’ve learned that at least some of the songs are produced by a pair of mockingbirds. Irritating, mischievous creatures. My brother despises them and wishes he had a BB gun.
Snapshot: two nights ago, Billy fell asleep during the Lakers game but any attempt to change channels was met with an indignant snort.
Dogs bark from across the canyon.
My back hurts the usual amount. Took Tylenol yesterday. It helped. But even with my hands crabbed with arthritis and my achy sore spine, around here it’s hard not to feel like a locomotive fueled by blessings.
Look at me pop up to get a blanket for brother, lean over using both arms to spread on lap and legs. There I am standing and chopping onions for dinner after kneeling and clipping the rosemary bush. I get to take my own damn shower.
What makes you feel gratitude this Memorial Day weekend? This is a Peet’s coffee household. Oh, yes!
The generosity of others is on full display. I might’ve mentioned that I like chocolate covered almonds. Within three days, the basket on the kitchen counter over-spilled with bags of the confection.
A misty smog smudges the sky again this morning. It has generally cleared later in the day, but sitting under its pewter gloss now, it’s hard to believe the sun will shine. Isn’t that a comment about something?
Silhouetted against the grey, perched on a dead branch: a mourning dove. She regales me with her call. When she flies off, her wings creak.
(((Dee))) beautiful writing!
Dee~ So many moments held here. I have carried on my mom’s love of Bougainvillea. Santa Barbara is glorious with it! We have lots of mockingbirds too, but we like ’em and yes the sounds of doves…a noisy bunch! I know just what you mean about this kind of gratitude. Last night I watched the special about the next greatest generation about young people caretaking for their parents or grandparents, some VETS. My life is a dream in comparison. It was sad, but inspiring and humbling.
Be well my friend.
Reading these posts brings me mixed emotions.. including heartache and joy for your brother, his partner, you. But also I’m truly happy that you all share life and connection. Nearly five years ago my brother, five years younger and my only relative from our generation, died suddenly of v-fib. At the time, I felt thankful that he didn’t have a stroke and linger through a debilitation that he might not handle well. But I miss him so much and think how loving it might feel to spread a blanket across his knees or move some statuary into his line of sight to ease his struggles. Thank you for sharing your reality while allowing me to accept mine.
I hope the five years that have passed have eased the pain somewhat.
I loved catbirds as a kid, but they don’t hang out down south, so I transferred my allegiance to mockingbirds after one serenaded me in Savannah … blue jays are my gadbirds (apparently there isn’t such a thing, but there should be)
these days I’m grateful for words like these, that trigger good memories and a counting of blessings …