Wednesday, November 5, 2014


Well. guess what?  It appears that the leaf blowers were here again yesterday, cleaning up after last weekend's furious storm. I was not at home when they did their work but did note that all of the "other" car ports were free of leaves except ours.  Hmmm, I wonder if that had anything to do with my voice of indignation last week when they were here in full force?  Or was it simply a coincidence?  Maybe.

Last weekend's storm was a major force.  We watched trees sway in response to fifty mile per hour winds, wondering if they could possibly sustain much more, waiting for the first to snap, hoping that none would break off and crash through a window.  While it would not be a financial disaster, it certainly would be a  mess because the hole would allow the rain, lots and lots of it, to also come right in.  So, we were only half concerned.  One of the many benefits of living in rented space, gorgeous rented space I might add.

But, last weekend's storm hit another front, another major impact.  It was seven years ago, to the very date, that we loaded up a few of our belongings into a small truck and drove back to the Cape to remake our home.  It was "raining" that day and we gave not one thought to the approaching Nor'easter, one that resembled the past weekend almost to the letter.  The only difference then was the power that went off when we turned the key and did not return for several days. No loss this time.Still, lots of impact.  Lots of time for reflection and giving thanks for the past seven years of very good fortune.

Our decision to return to the Cape was an easy one.  It wasn't ours.  It belonged in that category of "open your heart and let yourself be guided".  The road here was difficult, the weather, only a metaphor for what was happening and about to happen, in our lives.  One mother, there,entering her nineties, in good health, surrounded by friends and family. One mother,here,entering her nineties, failing miserably in her health with only a husband who was starting his trip to dementia, alone the two of them.  Before me laid my last chance to spend time with my own mother, my final shot at being a "good daughter" and, as an added bonus, my opportunity to regain my own life, one that we had given up three years before when we moved in with mother in law.

So, the storm, with its velocity, reminded me of so many things.  Life, itself,  is a storm.  Wind brings change. Directions shift. We can stay inside, shelter ourselves, keep dry and wait for it to stop or we can get into a truck, drive on without questioning the status of the road ahead, and spray-paint the fallen leaves metallic gold before they curl up and die.

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