The Friday of long ago signaled the beginning of the work weekend for me. There was no long awaited visit to the local brewery, or dinner with friends. Friday was the beginning of our farming weekend; the ranch a demanding mistress. While others were planning to sleep in and enjoy a leisurely cup of coffee by the pool, we were up at our usual 4:30 AM to get started with a long list of chores.
4:30 AM, present day. As I sit here writing, I wonder who in their right mind would accept my crazy schedule? Even Oliver barely tolerates it, except that food is involved. He’s already back to sleep in his cozy little work bed. Some days, it seems it’d be a good idea to publish at a later hour. However, I’ve found that the complications of a normal day provide roadblocks for creative writing time. So, my schedule remains. For now.
Schedules and appointments have been giving me a little trouble. It seems a few distractions have gotten in the way of my normally boring life. Finding a new and active normal while adding interesting activities isn’t as easy as it seems at 65. Covid and widowhood be damned, I’m creating my real and authentic life. In the midst of that, I’ve finally met someone that has the time, means, and curiosity to join me once in awhile.
Friendship is the basis for everything good in this world. Friends support each other when they’re down. A blue moon is a terrible thing to waste, and once upon a blue moon, a neighbor stopped by my porch on a summer’s evening. A neighbor I would have never met, except for a common friend who decided an introduction just couldn’t wait a second longer. Exchanging cards at a political meeting where like minded people gather to share positive visions of our country, we first met. Just a “Hi”, “Nice to meet you”, “Bye” type of meeting.
Life can be unpredictably crazy sometimes. Just when you think things can’t be stranger, there’s a new twist. A widow lady gardening her roses in the back yard. A widower making sure his pines have enough water on hot summer days. Two very private neighbors tending to their respective gardens while healing from the ravages of cancer and loss with just 733 steps between their front doors. Parallel grief. A zig, a zag, and an unexpected intersection at “Hello”.
Membership in the “Loss of a Spouse Club” is horrific and unwanted. It brands your heart in a way that inexplainable to someone that doesn’t have similar scars. Married friends want to understand in the worst way, while we hope it never happens to them. Somethings are too impossible to fully explain. It helps when someone already knows. He knows.
So add a new friend into the mix of hair appointments, pedicures, and a mini-girl-get-a-way, and appointments have been vexing me. Yesterday I got my hair cut. Today, Oliver goes to the mop-shop for his. Then, we’ll settle into a weekend of rest and reflection, no longer racing to cram three days of work into two.
I hope your weekend is delightful. Do something a little different to spice things up. Until then, Happy Friday.