Wednesday, May 28, 2014

Shimmer Lights

Face it, there's so much wrong with the world.  Never mind politics, scandals and guns.  There's just something downright wrong and it's the weather that is trying to let us in on the secret. According to the world as it were, the month of May should be slowly and deftly leading us down the garden path, showing us the way towards the warmth of the summer, getting ready to turn over her reigns to the goddesses of the new season.  We should be shedding coats, shortening pant-lengths, flip-flopping into the supermarket and firing up the barbie.  By now, the first coat of summer color should be seen on our pale, pale skin and we should have had one jump-for-joy day in our most recent past. We should have shared at the minimum,  one sunset on a tourist-free beach by now.  At least one.

But no.  If you live here in the Northeast, you know what I mean when I say "enough" to the weather.  Pee, or get off the proverbial pot.  What's up?  Stop allowing Mr. Winter to bully you, Ms. Spring.  He's had quite enough time to be in the spotlight and now, it's time to leave.   We're experiencing a "blast of cold air" again. And again. And now, again. Was that a lilac flower I just saw flying by my window?  There are waves on the pond, waves, like at the beach. And I'm sick at the thought of what the end result will be in our lives.
Children, who have had it with snow and cold, and can still do something about it.  Warmer climates will take them away, won't they?  They will.

Last week, our oldest granddaughter requested that I remove my "Shimmer Lights" shampoo from the bathtub, lest she mistake it for hers while showering and her hair will turn white.  Small and simple request, easily fulfilled. An eight year old's perspective on life that could easily have slipped by into my book of treasured memories were it taken only at face value.  Shampoo that turns your hair white?  Oh, were it that easy. That, my dear, takes years and time and sometimes, it takes pain, lots of it.  And courage.  And sorrow. And hard work.  And worry. Worry, too.  Sleepless nights, tossing and turning-worry.  And grief.  Huge responsibilities.  Loss.  Loss turns the blackest of hair into the whitest of white.  Amazing, how quickly that happens, those years, that time, those winters.

I wear my white hair as my own badge of courage.  I never intend to cover it up.  I'm proud of the winters I've weathered, just as my own mother was.  She earned her stripes.  Pain, loss, worry and courage.  Beyond words.  I just came upon a  few photos, some of the last taken of her, with my father on his 90th birthday.  Two full heads of hair, white as snow, surrounding proud and valiant faces, smiling at each other.  It was in October of that year, the new season approaching.  One that would be harsh, followed by two more seasons, each not wanting to be the one that separated them from each other forever.  Summer claimed that dubious distinction. The warmth can also leave us cold and shivering.

I'm starting to brace myself.  Surely, the news will come any day now.  There's a house that is too small, there are children who are getting bigger, more space, a garage, less snow.  This extended cold season seems to be punishing me for what, I am not sure but I will survive and my lights will continue to shimmer and maybe tomorrow, we'll be back to where we should be.  Maybe?

1 comment:

  1. As you see, yesterday's chill rain, today's sun returns. The weather is fickle, maybe more than it's ever been. But it has a lot of pollution and mess to contend with and we have to contend with it -- fair enough since we're the ones who caused he pollution.

    As for white hair -- YES! I was your genes, of course, not the trials and tears. And those were good genes, obviously.