Month: October 2019

Unsettled

Today I’ve been very antsy. I can’t keep my mind on the book I’m reading (Testament by Margaret Atwood), my attention to details is more lacking than usual, and I’m constantly in search of a snack. If I didn’t know better I’d think I was pregnant. There’s absolutely no chance of that, by the way. I’ll be 63 tomorrow and I kicked my uterus to the curb at least a decade ago.

Maybe my impending birthday has me unsettled. Sixty-three is nothing to sneeze at, after all, especially if one has bladder control issues. Not naming names, but I have intimate knowledge of people who suffer.

Remembering birthdays past, the day I turned 12 my great-grandfather died. Mom picked me up from school and imparted the sad news as we walked from the school to her car. She apologized that my birthday party would need to be postponed since the funeral would be held on the day we’d planned to have friends over.

I remember being bummed, but I think I handled it okay. At least I don’t remember stomping off in a rage. I wasn’t always the most reasonable child, and I was undeniably unsettled on that day, too.

Fast forward to 2019, Studly Doright and I don’t have any birthday themed plans for this weekend. Tomorrow he’s playing golf, while I attend a wedding. I’m looking forward to dressing up and witnessing a celebration of the joining of two lives. We’ve moved so often that we haven’t formed those kinds of relationships–the ones where we are invited to weddings and graduations, baby showers and engagement parties. So I’m going to enjoy every minute of inclusion in the couple’s celebration.

Is there a purpose to today’s post? Not as far as I can tell, other than writing it kept me from eating a second Lara bar. I might not be pregnant, but I seem to be eating for two.

Peace, people.

Witness

Monday evening I was in the Atlanta airport waiting to board my 10:35 p.m. flight to Panama City Beach. I’d been in Port Byron, Illinois, since Thursday visiting my daughter and her family. I was tired and knowing that even after I landed in Panama City Beach I still had a two hour drive to reach home was making me a little cranky.

As I sat at the gate I watched a frazzled mom trying to corral two young children, a girl who looked to be four, and her younger brother. The mom was at her breaking point. The little boy kept dashing away from her while his sister wasn’t much better. The girl child wasn’t running around, but she was noisy and annoying. Selfishly my thought was, “Please, oh, please don’t let this family be seated near me!”

The mom’s last nerve frayed past the breaking point when the little boy laughed at her attempts to get him to sit still. She lashed out and spanked him, and when that didn’t work, she spanked him again. He continued laughing.

I made eye contact with a woman seated near me, but while I remained frozen, she went to the mom and patted her on the shoulder then began to speak with the little boy to take some of the pressure off of the mom. It worked beautifully. The kids calmed down, and the mom relaxed.

After the gate attendant called for pre-boarding the mom and her children left to board the plane. I made a point of thanking the woman who’d gone to their rescue when she returned to her seat. What a wonderful gift she’d given to that mom.

When my group was called I got into line and was about to scan my boarding pass when I realized the gate I’d been waiting at was 27, the one for Nashville, Tennessee! I’d been so engrossed by the drama that I almost missed my own flight at gate 29. Thankfully, I made it on time. But also thankfully, I was fortunate enough to watch a beautiful act of compassion. I was in the wrong place at the right time.

Peace, people.

(Note: I had a photo of the mom, her children, and their compassionate helper, but even though none of them were facing the camera I didn’t feel it was appropriate to share on here. I found the photo below on Pinterest in an article about a group of women who rallied around a mother under similar circumstances.)

My October

Orange leaves collude

With brown, and russet, and red

In my October

Bonfires blaze brightly

Crackling logs, shooting embers

In my October

Hoodies and sweaters

Tall boots with warm woolen socks

That’s my October

Okay, I live in Florida. Our autumns here are fairly subdued, but I have fond memories of autumns in Illinois where the leaves turned impossibly beautiful colors and the sound of leaves crunching under foot was music to my ears.

Peace, people.

Snapshot #271

I’m recovering from a day of travel on Monday. From a 6 a.m. central time zone wake up to a 2:00 a.m. eastern time zone bedtime with no naps in between, I was a zombie for most of Tuesday.

That’s why you’re only getting this picture of my grandcat, Snuggles, who wanted to kiss me goodbye before I left Illinois.

Let’s call this one, I Wonder If I Could Smuggle Her in My Luggage.