It's a Good Life

In the tangle, still some tomatoes! 

"It's a good life," my dad said as he and I parted today, Dad to go up to lunch in the dining room and me to walk home.

I about fell over when he said that, but recovered quickly enough to say, "It is indeed. See you soon." My surprise was that I had never ever heard him say anything even remotely resembling that thought. But he clearly meant it and today I needed to hear that message. 

My morning emotions started out grayer than they have been as of late (and they have not been bright and sunny in recent days). How gray? I got ready to walk out the door to run an early morning errand, then came to a standstill in our living room. I took the car keys out of my pocket and took off my jacket. I plopped down on a chair and called up to Warren, "I'm not going to Kroger." "Are you okay?" "No." Warren came down the stairs with concern. "What's wrong?" "I feel like I'm ready to cry."

No specific reason. I was just ready to cry.

I did not cry. I "pulled myself together" and did some small chores: collecting all the fans we had used during the summer (five total) to ready them for their winter hiatus in our attic; collecting, folding, and putting away the fabric we use on our east and west windows in the summer to cut down on the direct heat from the bright sun (nine pieces total). Then I walked to Dad's apartment and spent time with him until, as I got ready to leave, he surprised me with his comment about this being a good life.

I thought about my dad's words as I walked home. The sun was out, the temperature was cool, fall is definitely setting in.  Just being outside in the sun lifted some of the grayness. I ran into one of my long-ago DI kids, now on the edge of 40 (40? How did these kids get to be 40?) and we hugged one another. "Tell Ben I said hi," she said as we parted.

Warren was getting ready to leave for class when I walked through the door, so talk was brief and most of it would have to wait. I did manage to tell him what Dad said about it being a good life, and Warren smiled. "Sure is."

After Warren drove off, I could feel the grayness starting to gather again. So after a quick lunch, I focused on concrete tasks, some inside and some outside. After starting a load of towels, I retreated to the kitchen garden and spent time in bee therapy. There were not a lot of bees in the basil today, but the ones that were there were hard at work. As for me, after sitting on the bee stool for a bit, I turned to my own outside tasks. Okay, I was not collecting pollen, but I did trim and clear out overgrown tomato vines, as well as repair the bee stool (it had come into our life broken). Will the duct tape hold it until the bees are gone for the season? Probably.

Somewhere between cutting and cleaning out many of the overgrown tomato vines (and finding more tomatoes within) and folding the now dry laundry, the grayness lifted a little more.

It is late in the evening as I type these words. Other obligations and events filled the rest of the afternoon and early evening. I have stayed steady. The big event was a community gathering to discuss food, food security, food insecurity. It was an emotional discussion for those of us in the room (some representing local non-profits, others there because of their own passion and commitment to help others). It is a topic close to my heart. In many ways, it was the absolute best way for me to spend an hour, talking with others (we broke into groups) about how this community (our city, Delaware) both sees and does not see the hurdles and issues for making sure all have access to food and, in a larger sense, all are welcome at the table. Warren was there beside me, adding his observations about the greater community and its needs. I saw familiar faces, I saw new faces, and it was a welcome and needed affirmation that giving my time and heart to this community is what sustains and feeds me.

Afterwards, we ran that Kroger errand I had set aside this morning. It was cold, it was rainy, we were both chilled and exhausted. "Turn into KFC," I said. "We need something warm and ready to eat." [Note: Yes, KFC is a guilty pleasure that we very occasionally indulge in.] Once home, we hurried into the house, turned on the furnace for the first time this fall, and ate our supper quietly, grateful for the heat, the warm food, and, most important, one another.

It IS a good life.