I have a dear friend who died almost two years ago. On the year anniversary of her death, I wrote this poem after visiting her home, which was now vacant:
Mid-Wash
White-centered,
Fringed by petals
Tinged with blue,
Hydrangeas bloom
Again,
Like last year
When death came
And took you away.
And now your house
Is dead, too;
The third step up,
Missing;
Weeds growing out the window
Of the plastic playhouse;
Leaves from fall,
Pressed against the patio
For warmth,
Find none
And lay brown and decaying;
Spider-webbed windows
Watch an open cupboard cabinet,
A blender,
A box of cereal,
A book about Babar,
As if you left
Mid-wash.
Yet, hydrangeas bloom,
Not knowing
They were supposed to come
With you.
Before she died, my friend and her husband planned their older daughter's Bat Mitzvah. That event was yesterday. The husband is now remarried. The children are thriving. And although the hydrangeas won't be blooming here for a few months, they bloomed last night in their own little way.
And the house? It has been gutted and renovated, with a brand new porch waiting for rocking chairs and a big pot of geraniums, and a family to love it once again.
Oh, and the camera I use to take photos for this blog was my friend's. I call it my magic camera, because I see things through it that I never saw before. Someone last night, not knowing its background, called it a toy and tried to convince me I needed something far more elaborate. He went on and on about what his camera could do, and I said, finally, "Yes, but is it magic?"
To me, it's always magic to realize that life goes on. Somehow. And good prevails.
This Week on FoodShed Planet
Please enjoy catching up on some older posts or checking out some of the links for which you haven't had time before. I am taking the week off to care for my mom, and to refuel. Thank you once again for your very kind words following her automobile accident early last week.
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7 comments:
Enjoy your week off, sounds like you could use it!
"To me, it's always magic to realize that life goes on. Somehow. And good prevails."
A thousand times, yes. Sometimes, an intentional withdrawal is necessary -- I hope this week "off" provides that for you.
With caring thoughts,
Lissa
Thank you Pattie for this poem and yes your magic photos, I first started reading your words after your article about camping out in your backyard with your children. I loved your words and the " magic photo". I sat looking at it for ages, remembering when my children were young and they camped out in the back yard. Now we globally journey together!
I grew up surrounded by hydrangeas, as a child I imagined them to be fairies and lovely dresses and clouds and beautiful colours and I still sink my head into their blooms and the smell transports me back to happy times in my childhood, playing around the hydrangeas.
Please give your Mum our greetings and lots of fresh herbs and vit C on her chicken broth.
Ya know, I just reread my post and found it interesting that I wrote "I have a dear friend who died . . ." in the present tense, instead of "I HAD a dear friend who died . . ." I guess that's how it feels to me, like she is still here. Like we are all here for always, in some indelible way.
Thank you for commenting, and connecting across states and continents and oceans. And Maggie, I remember precisely when you entered my world the day of that camping post, last June or so. What a trip it has been together since then, huh? We've only just begun . . .
How's mom? And you? Everyone doing okay?
-Annette (Alaska)
Annette: Thanks for asking. I miss posting, but I'm cooking like mad and working on my corporate accounts in between kneading bread doughs, roasting beets, tossing salads and all those other things that work-at-home writers can do somehow! I love, love, love being able to nourish her with such healthy food cooked with much positive intention. Also, the new issue of Yoga Journal came this week and had an article on caregiving, which was timely. I was moved to tears by the part of gratitude. However much I read about gratitude, it's never enough. There is always something new to be said and to remember.
The road back is going to be long and slow for my mom, but it has been a blessing for my children to see her strong spirit in action.
There are many gifts in this experience, only some of which I currently see. Like the seeds in my garden that are just starting to break through, I feel seeds inside me stirring.
Effin' awesome attitude!
Sorry for the near-cussing, but I come by honestly and I use it in earnest affection.
Big hugs all around!
-Annette
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