A Not Forgotten Life

Our mailbox sits on the side of the road. It's battered, probably from being hit by snow plows, passing cars and maybe even a baseball bat. Kids do that to mailboxes in the country sometimes. Dented as it is, it still serves its purpose. Each day, I walk out to get the junk mail, catalogs and occasional useful mailing.

One day last week, I walked out to get the mail and saw a small bird on the road. Dead, it had either flown into or was hit by car. It hadn't been there earlier, when the dogs and I went for our walk. In the hour before, its life had come to an end.

Coming back to the house, I planned to get a shovel and move the bird off the road. I put the mail on the table and started out the door when a loud boom of thunder sounded and the rain began. I didn't go back out.

It wasn't until the next morning when I went to the mailbox again that I saw the bird was gone. Not a trace remained. Perhaps one of nature's scavengers helped the rain clean up. We'll never know.

I mourned for the little bird. I hoped it had a happy life. I realized that if the timing had been different, its death would have remained a secret. No one would have felt a sense of loss. Or celebrated its life. But, I knew. This one little bird will not be forgotten.

Dealing with Loss

One of my favorite expressions used to be "Well, at least nobody died." Things were bad, sure, but it could always be worse, right? I can't even say that anymore. In the last five years, I have lost a beautiful cat and both of my parents. Other traumatic events, that feel like deaths, have occurred. I left a home and area I loved and moved to a new place with hopes for the future. Slowly but surely, each of those hopes died. It seems like every time I crawl out of the hole, something else happens to throw me back in.

Skype is a wonderful invention. It enables me to talk face-to-face with a couple of very close friends. They, too, have gone through difficult times, but we bolster each other up during our video chats. It's almost as good as being in the same room. The fur babies are always with me, loving as ever. This is what gets me through the day.

Still, a spark lingers. Hope. It's still there, it's just harder to find.

A Normal Winter Seems Abnormal Somehow

Yep. it's snowing again. This snow has a different consistency than those before. This one is a slushy, sloppy mess. The kind of snow you usually get this time of year. The kind that freezes overnight and makes the path to the bird feeder the next morning an icy adventure. This seems like one very long winter.

To tell the truth, it's not longer than normal. It just seems that way. I have apparently gotten used to those mild winters of recent years. Normal doesn't seem normal anymore, it just seems long. It's difficult to believe now that I was excited to see the first snow last fall. I was. I love the change of seasons; the new beginnings. It's the endings that are hard.

A Winter Muse

Is it because it's January? Too many dark, gray days. The holiday season behind us. Not much to look forward to in the coming weeks.

Is it the age? Another birthday coming up. Middle age pushing towards "senior." Hmmmmm....

What's the restlessness, the not feeling settled, the loss of passion about what I do? What's this longing to do something important, something that makes a difference? It's always been there, but the feeling is more urgent these days.

How to begin? How to find what's missing? Is it because it's January?

A Point in Time

Whenever I see old houses, particularly old abandoned farmhouses, I wonder about the people who lived there. I think of hardworking people who lived off the land, had their babies, lived their lives and experienced deaths inside those doors. It's a shame that these old houses can't speak. There are stories that we will never hear.

Brad and I live in an old farmhouse now. We do know a little of its history. It was at one time a dairy farm. A family lived here. The father died relatively young. The widow still lives nearby. Still, there are mysteries.

This little building sits on the property. It is falling down, but we wonder. What is it? There is a chimney and a place for a fire inside. A window has been boarded over. There are steps to the door. A groundhog lives underneath. Its face was one of the first things we saw when we came here.

Maybe I will meet the woman who lived here someday. I would love to find out more about the house, its history and the little building outside. Until then, I wonder.

More Questions than Answers

Lots of things to think about after the horrific tragedy at an elementary school in Connecticut. I am sure that many of the "facts" being reported now will be corrected and changed in the weeks ahead. What does not change is that 20 children and 6 adult educators are gone forever and their families are left dealing with the aftermath.

It appears that a disturbed young man had ready access to guns. It also appears that his own mother was the legal owner providing that access. If this is true, it begs the question; if his mother knew her son was disturbed, why did she give him access to weapons? If true, she bears some of the blame. If true, she paid with her life as well.

Ultimately, the young man, no matter how disturbed, is the responsible party. As a nation, however, we face vital questions. How can we stop this from happening again? How can we ensure that people with violent mental illnesses do not have the ability to legally obtain weapons? How do we determine the exact state of mental illness? Does it include those who may have at one time experienced depression? How far do we go? So many questions.

Enjoying the holidays?

I have never been one to get depressed during the holiday season. Because of my mother's religious beliefs, we didn't celebrate holidays as children. When I grew up and started celebrating, I had to create my own traditions. I love the decorating and try to create that "warm" holiday feeling. I don't feel down until after the new year, when there are weeks and weeks of dreary winter left. But, that's another story.

This year, we have an unusual reason to be a bit worried and stressed. It's nothing like the horrible family deaths and job losses we suffered a few years ago, but it is putting a damper on the season. The dilemma is how to put the worries aside and enjoy each day.

I keep telling myself not to let someone else spoil my happiness. Why let her have that power over me? Why should her actions take my joy? In an effort to take back control, I am purposely, except for this writing, not thinking or talking about her or her actions. Is it working? Somewhat. It is difficult not to think about it. It is a  subject of conversation, so it's really hard not to talk about it! But, I do feel some of my holiday happiness returning. In the long run, dealing with this person is just a ripple in the sand.