The Hazard of Not Writing…

My occasional job is finally taking its rightful place in my life.

Much as I dislike schedules and time keepers (now that I no longer have my homeschool and children around) they are a necessary evil to keep things moving along.

Otherwise all things left undone will eventually cascade in a messy heap at my feet.

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Daughts came over to “shop” at McKroger while I was teaching one day and commented that she’d cleaned around the edges of my kitchen,

“I almost filled a dust pan with all the crumbs and dust bunnies, Mum,” she said, “just kidding!” she added when she saw my face.

She was only half kidding because she’s right.  I’ll get the elbow grease out and do a through once over when company is expected.

“What happened to our weekly ‘clean-house’ day?” she said.

“You children grew up and left home!”  I replied.

When the sun shines through our windows I can see the paw prints and streaks on our stainless steel appliances that keep no secrets,

I catch the dust motes frolicking in its rays and close the blinds.

I don’t have the inclination to do housework every week, it’s enough to keep the place picked up for now, the outdoors beckons, branches are falling, brush is collecting, fires must be lit.

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For the last two months I haven’t had time to worry about crumbs and dust bunnies, I am substitute teaching and volunteering in my community,

giving myself over to youngsters who remind me very much of my own flown nestlings.

I’ve dropped much of my old ways including Yoga, walking, thinking and, apparently, cleaning.

I’ve missed Hubs’ company.

I’ve missed hearing his voice ring around the house, even when he isn’t talking to me.

It grounded me, reassured me I was home, where I should be.

I’ve missed the resonant reminder that I have been loved by the same person for more than three decades.

I’ve dropped my writing along the wayside,

dismissing the importance of mixing up words,

experimenting with forms,

exploring synonyms in order to bring myself to life on the printed page,

with a sigh.

I’ve grown fractious and when the clocks went back,

I felt restless,

stir crazy,

up ended,

tail chasey,

disorganized, and irritated.

There was so much to catch up on, I had a grand head-ache and a weariness that pulled me down.

I took myself to task and called on the great scheduler within.

Instead of bouncing off the walls of indecision after scanning the never ending items on my To Do list,

I admitted that in order to smooth the wrinkles of my psyche I had to write a well crafted sentence or two, for an hour or three.

On my full days off this had to come (almost) first… even though it wasn’t on the list!

Once I submerged myself in my sweet spot again things just started to fall into place.

Writing is where I seek first the kingdom of God and find everything else.  (Matthew 6:33)

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Gradually I have been able to fit some of my old life into my new, an hour at a time.

My job has found its rightful place around the perimeter, between the trees.

But those weekly clean house events do come around way too frequently for me so I save the housework for my teaching days and use that as my excuse for the crumbs and paw prints.

It’s usually dark now when I get home anyway!

writingaand candlelight is much more forgiving!

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3 Comments

El Ray

2016-12-05 17:53:41 Reply

Thank you!

Beverly Hudson

2016-12-05 19:34:19 Reply

Oh my what a grace gift to unwrap today. Navigating the holidays, a new grandchild, another son to marry next week and the youngest son about to move away with a new job….all without my wingman, best friend and husband of 42 years, gone home to his LORD in June. And so I must, I must pick up those journals for my granddaughters and continue to write what has been entrusted to me to pass on, L’dor V’dor, generation to generation. Thank you for being a fellow so-journer.
Beverly

Pamela

2016-12-05 19:49:04 Reply

Well, no wonder I miss my friend! I liked your retirement because you had time to relax and talk. I miss you!

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