Change Is Hard

…but change is certain.

Forget me not


Forget Me Not

Forget Me Not

I spent some of this first day of the 3 day holiday weekend weeding.  It’s the same old thing, by the time I get around to weeding the perennial garden it’s overrun with grass.  I don’t even need to take a before picture – it looks the same as it did last year at this time.  Think of a long green rectangle filled to overflowing with grass waving knee high.  You would be accurate.

So what does a person think about when she’s pulling grass mindlessly for an hour or so?  Well if you’re me, you think about your Dad.   He’d have been 85 last February.  I’d have liked to see him achieve that age, see what he was interested in, what he’d think about world events.  I imagine him talking to the DOT about truck issues, can hear his impatience with the slowness that is Washington.    I hear his encouragement to keep up the good fight.

I think about Mom too, of course.  She loved her flowers and her birds.  Though she didn’t die at the same time or in the same way as Dad, it sometimes feels like one event, their deaths happened so close together.  I think about her when the oriole couple visit, or when I hear the cranes in the swamp up the road.  And I think about her when I’m weeding.

This week while work was especially difficult I’d get up from my desk to stretch and glance out the window.  Thursday and Friday almost every time I did a robin flew around the corner of the building and landed at the tip top of a tall spruce tree, about level with my window.  It swayed in the breeze and chattered as I stood and watched and smiled.  Eventually I’d get back to work and when I’d glance out in a bit the bird was gone.  But it was back three or four times when I’d stand up to stretch, and the last time it stared in my direction while it chattered.  I know the windows are glazed and the bird can’t really see me.  And the bird couldn’t know that I needed that little bit of entertainment during a very bad day.  But each time that robin turned up I’d said “hi” to Mom, and before I sat down again I’d say a silent “bye, see you next time.”

So I’ve been thinking about the two of them a lot these past few days.  That’s not a bad thing, I’ve sort of enjoyed it.  Especially during these beautiful spring days when I’m pulling weeds in my garden and they’re both just a memory away.

Broken hearts

Broken hearts

Author: dawnkinster

I'm a long time banker having worked in banks since the age of 17. I took a break when I turned 50 and went back to school. I graduated right when the economy took a turn for the worst and after a year of library work found myself unemployed. I was lucky that my previous bank employer wanted me back. So here I am again, a long time banker. Change is hard.

9 thoughts on “Forget me not

  1. I’m glad you found some moments of peace during your busy week.

    I bet your mom and dad both enjoyed weeding with you today. Monotonous work, but rich with reward in the end.


  2. absolutely beautiful post. Sending you ((((hugs))) they ARE the robins and the flowers, they are with you…always


  3. what a lovely post with a lovely photo to go along.


  4. Memories are made of moments and it those we remember the best.


  5. Sometimes words are not enough. I’m happy you had the company of your mom and dad as you weeded.


  6. Doing jobs like that do give a person lots of time to think and ponder and it seems that you had some wonderful memories to have while you weeded. Nice memories make work go faster. Glad you shared with us today.


  7. When I see birds and butterflies, I think of my late dad, too, Dawn. I don’t know if it’s probable, but I’m comforted to think he might have sent them along to say ‘Hi’ and let us know he’s still watching over us, is happy and at peace. Comforting thoughts like the ones you had make a mammoth task like weed-pulling go by much smoother. And I’ll bet you didn’t have doggie paws trying to “help,” either!


  8. How you still love your mom and dad, Dawn. I wish they were still with you. But it sounds like you are still integrating their spirits into your life.


  9. Kathy’s comment just above says so well what I was thinking and didn’t have words for.
    The miracle of spring! What would we do without it?


Leave a Reply

Fill in your details below or click an icon to log in: Logo

You are commenting using your account. Log Out /  Change )

Google photo

You are commenting using your Google account. Log Out /  Change )

Twitter picture

You are commenting using your Twitter account. Log Out /  Change )

Facebook photo

You are commenting using your Facebook account. Log Out /  Change )

Connecting to %s