Heading Home

The headlights on the cars are the only light. The Skis dark. Night hasn’t left. Morning hasn’t begun.

The white dash lines on the road can drive you bonkers if you focus on them. Trucks are [assing and heading to destinations to deliver groceries, gas, cars, and maybe bath towels.

And there are people such as Nick and I, who are heading home after the Christmas holiday.

Martha and the Vandellas are singing ”Jimmy Mack” on the radio. I haven’t said anything, but I am not ready for that. I am not ready for much of anything …except getting home. Still sick. Both of os speak in hacks. Word, old, hack, hack.

But in spite of feeling like grunge, I am not going to write about. One of the things I have learned about life is that it isn’t all about how you feel. You have to learn to pul up your waders and tromp forward because let’s face it. If we waited until we felt divine, to do anything, there would be much left undone.

Right now, I have a bit of hibernation on my mind, finding my groove and getting ready for my new temporary normal. Yep, it’s a mental game.

I haven’t really thought about grand plans for the new year. I am in the let’s get through it. Of course, I hope to find bits and bobs of joy and mischief and laughter, and wonderful cups of tea. But other than that, all I know is that I have two surgeries, radiation and recovery. So it isn’t a matter of do I want to paint or take a trip or start a new project. My health is my project.

And that isn’t bad. I am not exactly excited as I would be if I were going to Ireland. But it will be interesting. I will meet new, nice people and my mind and heart will, no doubt, be transformed. I will experience personal growth and I have a feeling that another layer of humanity will come into play.

That, I am excited about.

It is also a good excuse to rest and think and ponder. OH, I ponder now, but I want to read an think more about history, God, the universe and look at cookbooks. Yes, I ordered three new cookbooks. Even Nick said he would like some.

We used to have loads of cookbooks and when we moved, we gave them all away, except for a couple.

One of the ones we kept was a Better Homes and Gardens cookbook, that was one of our first. It has chocolate smudges, probably butter schemers,and ancient tour. Some of the pages are simply stuck in there. It is a binder type deal and the holes tore. WE just stuff them in.

We couldn’t get rid of that cookbook because it is about more than food. It is about shared lives.

I also jane a small hand quilted-covered cookbook that I made. This was before commutes. I typed the pages and copied them. I made about ten copies, each one hand-quilted.

I had asked some relatives and a couple of friends for their best recipes. There are some family recipes from my mom and grandma and Nick’s mom. I wrote something about each person. And that was way before I became a writer. I should have seen the future.

For years now, I have been getting recipes off the internet. Pinterest, All Recipes, etc. I enjoy that. Especially since I could only read on the computer.

But with my new spectacles and the eye surgeries, I can read some books and magazines. I won’t be read in a novel from a book, as my eyes would revolt. That task is still for computer screens.

But with my eyes functions at a better level,I will do something that I used to enjoy. I loved to sit and look at cookbooks, especially if they have lots of photos. I would peruse magazines and dream about if I could ever get my writing in one. The process of sitting in a comfy chair or at my counter, hot or iced tea at hand, good light, and a recipe book or fun magazine and woohoo! It is one of my little joys. I love to turn the pages and see what is next.

What I have coming up, well,k actually, what each of us has coming up, is like turning the page in a book. We might have an idea of what it is, but then again, maybe, we don’t. We could get bitten by a snake or kissed by a butterfly. Who knows?

The day is coming up over the horizon. My mind is drifting back to the fact I left my kids and grandkids, again. That is mournful. But the good part is that yesterday, I got to spend a couple of hours, one on on, with each of my children. I relished that more than anything. To sit across a table and listen to them tell me about what is going on in their lives, is all I want. I just want that time, one-on-one time.

That is what I will remember on those days when I feel the gremlins or fears of the what ifs, come my way. I will see their eyes and hear their voices. I felt love. That is what will get me through anything.

Susan

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