The Good Kind of Ache

It is so easy to only write to complain, or only to commemorate major moments, but sometimes the best thing is to take a moment to share good days.

We've had an unusually warm Spring. Definitely my type of Spring. Of course, Oregon likes to strike e Rey now and then, bringing back drippy sweater days. Today, I could have sworn we were moving into Fall already, but yesterday was something different.

The morning was warm from the get go, and the lawn was three weeks into begging to be mowed. I never wrote much about my previous venture in lawn mowing. Let's just say that after an hour plus spent trying to convince the human powered mower to shorten the back yard, our neighbors took pity and offered the use of their mower. I didn't refuse.

This time, I went over on my own and asked to use it. Sounds like things should go smoothly after that, but it is amazing how quickly thick wet grass gets heavy. Besides killing the motor several times due to the overload of high grass, I emptied the bag about four times. That's a lot of grass.

With a nicely mowed back yard, we were tempted to play. There's not a whole lot of space, but we managed to have quite a frisbee toss. I have no claim to greatness with a frisbee, but after spending most of the afternoon working on my fling, I'd say I shows a marked improvement.

Needless to say, between the lawn mowing, and the frisbee throwing, my body is feeling it. We're talking everything aches. The good thing about that, as the weather has taken a quick downturn for the worst, every last bit of me is remembering a sunny day :)

And Herons Flew Across The Sky

Two in as many days,
No harbingers of doom,
Only memory bearers,
Calling me backwards.

The snag with nests,
Four in a row,
Where pterodactyl birds recline,
In ancient instinctual style.

And time morphs fluidly,
Pulled across days and miles,
Calling into question
The meaning of home.

So many eras,
A heart spread thin,
Such love and longing,
Loss and glorious joy.

They glide so smoothly,
Yet heavy in the sky,
And leave me wondering,
And simultaneously thankful.

Musings on a Melancholy May

The clouds have come back. Cold, dreary, and touched with rain. The first couple weeks were like a dream of sunshine and flowers. It's hard not to be cheerful in such a fabulous setting.

But there was a glitch in all this dazzling glory. A loss. A heavy loss.

There are some people in this life that are just so...alive...

When my dear friend Becky was called away to Heavenly business, it was unthinkable. She was always one of the most alive people I knew. Even in the years when our lives were far apart, I knew she was out there, living, bringing joy to people by her presence. For her to no longer exist in this plane of existence felt so wrong. How could days be bright and cheerful when she was not there to breathe beauty into it somewhere. I still miss her, still haunt her Facebook page on occasion and send her messages, even though I know there will never be a response. I can only be grateful that for the last three years of her life we were in contact again, that the flame of her existence was fully realized in my world again so that when she left us, she was close to me, even planning to come to my wedding.

On May first, I receive shocking news. Another bright life had gone away. A former student of mine left this world without an explanation. He simply departed, taking with him a joy filled smile and a zest for life that always shone from his eyes. Unlike Becky, we hadn't spoken in more than a year. Like so many others, he seemed to have faded from my general sphere of connection, but I still knew he was out there, even saw him briefly last time I was in Czech. Regardless, I will never forget his smile, his open sincerity, the way he livd deeply. His loss has struck me in a way I can't fully explain, and don't want to talk about.

There are things in life we will never know or understand. When faced with the harsh realities of life and death sometimes the only thing to do is look at the sunny day and remember joy. We all have choices in this life. I hope that when people remember me, they will remember one who lived.