Saturday, January 17, 2015

The icicles on my mother's roof (6WS)

Harvey asked me a really good question today:  How has age changed you? How has your thinking changed?

Had to stop and think about that for a bit,  since time moves faster for all of us, as we discover there is less in front to discover and more in back to remember.

I seem to have stopped writing. Not totally, but it no longer seems to have a presence in my life. Now and then one gets away from me, but for the most part they don't dominate the way they did.  Yeah.

Some days its all  memory,  some days its 'where did I put the scissors" and by the time you find them you've forgotten why you needed them and when you do remember, you 've lost the scissors again

I make a sandwich, the phone rings and I wander away to answer it,  then off to start a project,  and an hour later come back to the kitchen to find that the cat has made himself a sandwich and is just now licking up the last of the crumbs...

Tell the doctor about the wandering memory and he goes straight into denial, "You do NOT have memory loss!"  and slams that door shut...

But getting older has forced me to move a bit more slowly, and in doing so I find a joy in pauses:  watching a flight of geese, walking through those trees, seeing  it  become something other, something that will outlast us.  And knowing that I have less time than I had, and that dark wall looms closer every year,  
I'm less willing to assign importance to things that I cant change.

Years ago we had one of those high snow winters,  and Mother was sliding into her dotage, but still  in her own home. One night she called me, terribly distraught, wanted me to come over and "do something" about the icicles that lined the front of the house like prison bars. She was afraid they'd break off and damage the windows.  The fact that we were having yet another storm and her front lawn was already four feet deep in snow wasn't important, and she started the "if you loved me' thing.  Finally she said, "at least you could help me worry!" and hung up.

  I refuse to worry about icicles I can't reach,  or events that will change whether I'm here or not.

Thanks,  Harvey.


  1. I like your comment about refusing to worry about icicles you can't reach; I t hink it is a good attitude to go into as one ages (which I think I'll adapt for myself)


  2. actually its a good attitude for almost any age; ive been doing it for years. My list of icicles now includes people who are 4000 miles away and neither know nor care if I worry over them; politics, which will carry on whether I watch or not; weather--its one thing to be prepared for it, its another entirely to worry about it. It will, or it wont.
    i have a shovel, and boots.

    If you didnt break it, and you cant fix it, let it go. btw, im sorry about your dog. They do attach themselves to us like sticky burrs, dont they...ive done the same thing, for the same reasons. =)

  3. The icicle concept's particularly on point, JT.

    It's and odd stage we're in, eh?

  4. odd, and yet not odd. Older, but not old. its a natural progression, although a lot of people (thanks in part to advertising) see aging as an insult, or a failure on their part--
    we've got a ways to go, my friend. might's well enjoy the good parts.

  5. Mothers can be that way, mine is.