I was excited to see Mrs. Hummingbird stop for a drink when I was out turning on the sprinklers to water the grass seed. When she's sitting on eggs and tending nestlings she rarely comes to the feeder. Or maybe I just don't see her but today I did. She doesn't show up well against the straw but, trust me, she's there. She didn't stay long, just long enough for a couple sips and then she was off. Zoom!
Once that was done I started sewing the tablecloth Dress no. 1 that I cut out a while back. I bought this tablecloth on clearance at Beach People in Ephriam in Door County about 7 or 8 years ago for about $5. It's the wrong shape for my round table so I knew it'd be made into something else. Well, I finally cut it out and now I'm sewing it up.
22 June--Barbara Malcolm, Horizon.
I filled her in on
Aaron’s visit and the phone calls from Sam and Matt. “All that mistrust from the boys got to me, I
guess.” I groped in my jeans pocket,
came up with a paint-smeared handkerchief, and blew my nose.
“You
have to admit you’re very different these days,” said Clara. “Maybe you’ve changed too much too fast for
them. You know how sensitive men can be
about change. You and Bert put a lot of
effort into making your sons’ lives secure and surprise-free. Neither of you were ones for following fads;
you had the same jobs for years.
Everything around those boys stayed pretty much the same and only they
changed. It was safe; they could depend
on Mom and Dad. You and Bert were
stable.”
“You
mean dull,” I said, “Bert and I were dull.
I was particularly dull. I looked
the same, kept the same schedule; I even cooked the same meals year after year. Boring and dull.”
“Some people might think
that sort of routine is comforting. Some
people don’t like surprises.” She got up
and refilled our mugs.
“I’m usually not crazy
about surprises either, Clara. I
realized back in September that I didn’t really know who I was anymore. I’ve never really felt that I fit in
anywhere. Oh, I went along and did all
the things women of our era were supposed to do; married a ‘good’ man, had
children and stayed home to raise them for a time. Then I got a job, in the school so I’d have
the same vacations as the boys, was an officer in the PTA; all that stuff the
experts tell you to do to have a happy and successful life.”
“Weren’t you happy? All these years you were pretending?”
“Yes, I was happy; I
wasn’t pretending. I don’t know if I can
explain it.” I got up and looked out the
window at my house in the distance. “All
my life I’ve felt like there was a voice in me I couldn’t quite hear. Telling me something really important,
important to me, and I was never still enough to hear it. When I picked up that paintbrush, it was like
the volume got turned up, and for the first time in my life I could hear that
voice. Hear what I wanted to do, what I
was supposed to do, to become myself.”
I turned back to my friend with a pleading look. “Does that make any sense at all, Clara? Is this some bizarre side effect of
menopause? Am I nuts?” I sat back down, picked up my cooling coffee,
and took a sip.
“No, honey, you’re not
nuts. Or maybe I should say, no more
nuts than most women our age.” She sighed.
“All my life, all I ever wanted to be was a wife and mother. Marrying Hank, raising seven kids, feeding
them, keeping them clean—that was all I ever wanted to do. I never understood those women during the
feminist movement in the ‘70s, burning their bras and wanting to be men’s
equals. I never wanted to have a job out
in the working world and be at someone’s beck and call. Heck, I wanted to stay home and be the
boss.” She looked surprised at the
vehemence of her statement. “Huh. I guess I never said all that out loud
before.” She reached across the table
and covered my hand with hers. “But,
Gail, if you need to change just about everything in your life to be happy, I’m
on your side. All I ask is that you not
forget about your old friend Clara. And
that you keep coming over and telling me all about it.”
I leaned over and gave
her a big hug. “Clara, I knew I could
count on you to be the voice of reason.
Don’t worry, I’ll keep that path between our houses tramped open. And you’d better do the same.”
I got to spend a few hours with my favorite small people this evening. They give the best snuggles. OJ wants to sit on my lap and LC glues herself to my side. I don't mind.
--Barbara
1 comment:
OK - getting back to normal. Backyard looking beautiful and Mrs. Hummingbird comes to call. God's in his Heaven - All's right with the world! Lucky you having time with the small people. Love that OJ still wants to sit on your lap.
Post a Comment