A summer weekend in November

I’m walking cash. Feels strange, like with some random childhood summer day. No clouds, no wind really. It’s warm. I have a neighbor down the street, who I am calling Power Nana. We walked past her house and she had a socially distant barbecue going on.

I wonder if this is just a picnic for friends or for the church friends. Or are they happy about the outcome of the election? A few feet further, and I see one of her guests' cars has a faded RGB bumper sticker on it.I smile. And we walk on.

And I'm brought back from summer to today by another neighbor's inflatable turkey statue. Oh yeah, it’s fall.

As we make our way back slowly home, as one does when one walks a basset hound, We pause in front of her house. I try not to interrupt things by looking over and waving, but I end up doing it anyway. I see another neighbor, who reminds me of my long departed father-in-law. We always stop to chat on walks and he gives cash love and a little bit of guff.

They all waved back at me. Happy, smiling. Then I start to hear them talk about Cash a little bit. They are chuckling and he looks at them, takes them in, and then yawns dramatically. They all laugh, big time this time. 

***

“Yes?” I ask, pausing my talk-to-text of the above. We are in my driveway now and I turn around to see a young fellow coming up the drive, saying, “Miss!”

“My aunts down the street love your dog and they wanted him to have these gluten free milk bone treats!”

“Don’t worry, they’re safe,” he says reaching down to pet Cash, who accepted the affection with an unusual grace.

“Oh! Thank you!” I said, “His name is Cash, by the way.”

He pets Cash for a moment longer.

“Where did you come from?”

“Down the street,” he points and then takes off.

“I’m Jenny! And please thank your aunts for the treat!”

I watch him leave and look at Cash: “You flirt!!!”

I open the door for him and pitch him a treat. Then I throw a bag of shit in the dumpster.

These are the days you dream of when they're 2

Tenacious S put out the call for the old bloggies to sit their middle age spread down and write, for god's sak. If we ever needed it, it's now. So here I am, having battled many a password shenanigans to be here. 

Since we've last talked, I've gained a life partner, a step-son, a cat, a basset hound and have since lost no one further. I'm holding conversations on Facetime, Google Meetups, Zoom calls and baby showers close to my heart these days.

But It's Sunday and I'm writing at my desk for once. It's quiet. I think back to this blog when I was active and how much it was about the noise around me. And while there's a lot I don't miss, I do miss Riley grabbing my index finger and dragging me around and Lucy asking to watch Cars again. But now, they've got their own thing, as humans do. And we've got a step Efrem, who is right in the middle age-wise between them. I mean, 2002, 2003, 2004 in late March and early April is second Christmas around here! And I celebrate this springtime event more than anything in the world. 

Speaking of Christmas, we didn't really celebrate it 2019. We are all worn out and didn't even know Covid was around the corner. No tree, no parties, really. We didn't go to the family party taking a brief trip out to Philly to take Lucy to see her girlfriend. 

I tell you what, I just realized that I couldn't sustain the magic. And I was the only one pushing for it anyway. My Dad is the King of Christmas. He made every one TO THIS DAY magical AF. I wanted to pass that on to my kids. But they were cool with the low-key and now so am I. We'll see if I can get to a middle ground, because I do love laying on the couch within the dogpile of family who belong to this interspecies community, and looking at the tree. It's just really pretty. 

As I while away my free hours, playing Animal Crossing, I start planning for Christmas on my island, not being a Halloween fan by any means. There are pine trees and elves (well, gnomes) and my house already looks snow-covered.

So, it is quiet, (as I said). It's the kind of quiet I had wished for so hard 12 years ago. I'm glad about that, but with all real love, your memories are a doily full of hearts, but singed on the edges. There is the almost beautiful, now, memory of the pain and the love fills all the negative spaces. 

I miss you all, and I look forward to maybe restarting another old tradition: sitting down for work with some caffeine, glancing at the inbox, and then starting a quick tour of what you wrote today, write something myself and then happily start my day with random words of kindness you supplied in the comments along the way. It's like having a gently lit Christmas tree in your pocket, changing colors for a moment so that you can remember the joy of family when you least expect it and never would have thought to ask it these days. 

I love you,

Jenny