If there were a month or two that I could act like a bear and go hibernating, it would probably be in July and August.
Now I know that most people seem to love these sizzling months of beaches and activities, but they make me dream about fall in Michigan. No, fall right here in Central California, a wonderful time of year.
For now, I am just California dreaming while remaining fully hydrated, covered with sunscreen and keeping my head covered while avoiding the ‘dog days of summer.’
I do not know why they call them that, as few dogs I have ever met seemed to like the heat either. You know who really loves July and August? PG&E.
Last night, while walking my beloved Yogi and stewing over the air conditioning, my drooping roses and my usual summer woes, I stopped in my tracks, looked up at the pristine sky, and was dazzled by the vibrant quarter moon and enchanted by the trees gently swaying throughout my complex.
The slight constant breeze seemed to almost play the musical tune of Summertime, you know, “summertime and the living is easy.” I stopped and allowed myself to be caressed by the gentle warmth with just enough cool mixed in that I felt like Goldilocks from the Three Bears: just right.
I felt my convenient mind switch to the other side and was reminded of a simple truth. The old idiom of life changing like the flip of a coin came to mind.
Was it really that long ago that on one of my late evening walks, I had muttered about how cold I was? When Yogi wore his winter sweater and I was bundled up, rushing poor Yogi on his stroll so we could get back to the warm comforts of our home?
Then I would rush to the microwave and make hot chocolate, take a hot shower and dash into bed, crawling under my layers of blankets. Remember that, Diana? Why when I lived in Michigan, I would have felt those tepid temperatures and gone out without a jacket, now I was complaining about the cold.
We humans tend to forget before and after while in the present. There is often a tendency to forget the flip sides of life while we are engaged in the present.
I know in the cooler weather I am apt to complain about high heating bills, and on the flipside, do the same about high air conditioning bills in the summer. The reality is that there are only a few months when the weather is “Goldilocks just right,” just as there are few ages we travel that are pitch perfect (if any).
When I was young, I really wanted to be older. I wanted the power and independence I believed adulthood had to offer. I tried to rush through my short childhood to come out on the other side.
When I did get my wish to grow up almost overnight, marrying at sixteen and quickly becoming a mother. I learned that everything and time had its own price tag.
I inherited freedom alright, but also a world of responsibilities that I had not foreseen. There was no one to turn to but myself. Boy, that was a loud switch clicking. Ready or not, I was thrown into adulthood realities and learned while trying to swim.
Gee, I had to admit to myself that being a child was easier than I had thought. Many a night I wished someone would make me dinner and tell me to go to bed. There was a real flipside.
When my children, who kept me always busy and I dreamed of a quieter life, left home, Wow! I wanted nothing more than for them to all move back in so I could care for them and hold them tighter. But the switch had already been flipped and once more I regretted having been too eager to move on.
Why, oh why, could I not just enjoy the now? Life is unfortunately like that, be it weather, our age, their ages, once it moves on, you tend to romanticize the past and are too keen on the future.
You wonder when you will ever learn. That is why moments like my walk last night are so important. Like walking into a tree before you head blindly into the street and get hit by a car. When life gives you pause, embrace it. Like in Morse code, we need both the dots as well as the dashes.
I have, too late in life, alas, learned to appreciate NOW, like learning to read a page in a book slower to absorb it, mull it over, let it fully percolate in my mind.
These past seven months of my life, which have been filled with illness and limitations, I have been reminded of that urge to turn the page and the riches of seeking to find the hidden treasure in the moment, even if it is a difficult page.
I admit that one of my failings has always been to try to do everything too quickly, be it walking, my movements or doing almost any task. That is probably why I have had so many falls, broken so many dishes, and yes, I made too many quick decisions.
Now my life has slowed to an almost painful pace. It was an abrupt switch that caught me unprepared. And boy have I fought it tooth and nail, BUT…. I must admit that there have been many lessons I needed to have and several especially have made me grow in ways I was unaware I needed to.
Hate having to admit that. Rushing as we all do in this hectic world we live in there is such a tendency to be thinking of what is next rather than appreciating now, you know, sort of like wishing for fall instead of enjoying summer.
My forced limbo has made me so much more aware of each minute. Like learning to enjoy the sweetness of a piece of chocolate before having to grab the next piece. That lesson I am afraid I have not learned, not with chocolate or cherries or… I digress.
I look out my windows and just watch squirrels scamper, my birds eating at their feeder, the shapes of clouds and the changing of the sky throughout the day all have become much more vivid experiences.
Phone calls from friends seem sweeter, oh, and visits are like Christmas, a true gift, not something I try to fit in.
I have time to read and to write more and I think I do so with more complexity. I listen, really listen, to music as the profound experience it can be. And the moments when my pain level is less seems to me such a gift.
I hope that when this period ends and the pain is not my constant companion, I will appreciate more fully the wonderfulness.
