As I mentioned last night, it seems not to just rain, but it pours. I told a friend today that it reminded me of that moment when the grocery bag has a small hole and then suddenly “rendeth” open and dumps everything out. I was just glad that I had a couple of other “bags” to put everything back.
Always keep a long hollow pipe next to you.
Another poet told me never to forget this.
It will help you to breathe until you’re dug out.”
Of course, no “interesting” day would be complete without some interaction with D&D having some kind of interaction either with themselves, or the world around them. The evening’s middle trauma was a phone call from one of the D’s announcing that they were through with each other and that I could expect a phone call from the other shortly. Having been around them as for this long, I cudda/shudda moved that announcement from the “I need to worry about this right now” to the “I’ll worry about that when I get around to it” category.
But the most troublesome part of the evening involved my Mother. She is a feisty 93 year young lady, who still lives alone – does quite a bit for someone of her age, and refuses to have an answering machine. Last night when I called, something didn’t sound quite right – but I let it pass at the time. Nothing I could put my finger on, but just slightly off none-the-less.
This morning the reason I was uneasy became even more clear. She was lounging in bed when I called and was thinking about simply staying in bed all day. This is not like her. Now, she (as I do) loves to sleep in and enjoy easing into the morning. This was unusual.
Tonight was the cap of the two days. When I called her – all she could get out was that she was having trouble with her words. The next sentences were completely unintelligible. Now, this was a call to action. There are two people who live very nearby and with one phone call one was on the way to see what was up – or down.
My Mother suffers from TIA … without going into great detail (which you can get —>here<—), she was suffering from a mini-stroke. This has happened before, and will definitely happen again. And yes – according to the Doctor, it's not a question of IF she has a stroke but WHEN. (Just to let you know – yes, plans and provisions are in place.) Alright, now the choices come into play. The inner choices. The kind of choices we make all day long on minor things, but sometimes I drop the ball on the major choices about my reactions to what’s going on.
I’ll go back to my Mother – when asked tonight if she realized she was having trouble talking, her only comment was: “The only one I was talking to was the dog, and he wasn’t listening!”
I could easily have become a “spinner” over all the events. Let me explain. When I worked for a certain major airline – the flight attendants had a expression for those people who discover that someone is supposedly sitting in their seat. (next time you’re flying – watch for this) They usually stand in the center of the aisle and turn around and around. Hence, the name spinner. Of course, with all that’s gone on the last couple of days – I could emotionally become a spinner as well.
and it comes out ….here.”
And in my case, it wouldn’t have been music, and it certainly would have come out NOT where I wanted. But then again – maybe there IS music in all this. I posted the following on another blog (Sorry Laurie, but I’m using it here as well!!!). It kept coming back to me all day – So, here’s a wonderful poem about music and life!!
Tuning up for the concert of my life
Taking note of classic techniques
Finding the keys to composing myself
I entered into the first movement …
To B Sharp.
Being A Natural … at this stage
fright did not come into play
Being confident of each measure
I scored victory
Refusing to sing the blues
over A Minor setback
(stumbling upon a broken / bridge
over troubled waters) …
Crossing over anyway to
C Major possibilities
not to B Flat or one-dimensional …
but to embrace all that jazz this
life’s made of …
I entered into the second
movement … set …
to B Sharp.
Directing a chorus
voicing four-part disharmony
Orchestrating rare repeat performances
I turned a deaf ear to discordant tones
striking a chord of discontent.
Having no time for Modern / pop / bluegrass
/ country / swing / hip-hop
Soul / rap / rhythm and blues / heavy
metal to weigh me down …
I entered into the third movement to a
higher octave oblivious to
all that jazz …
and decided to B Sharp–
to be … MYSELF.
–Iris Formey Dawson