Would you believe it? Could you believe it? I am already homesick and I haven’t yet left. Ambivalent thoughts, ambidextrous to pro and con, are jumping back and forth like a green leopard frog on a hot paved road. But rightly or wrongly life, like water, does not flow back. The school of hard knocks gives no framed diplomas, but thank God the good time memories out number by high numbered multiples all those that frolicked beyond the zone colloquially known as comfort.
Though my Little Lady is no longer here to help me with major and minor decisions, it is hard to believe that three long years have rapidly passed with her guidance no longer by my side. I shed few tears of loneliness for it is as though she has not really left, and the flow of her friends, neighbours and acquaintances have not dwindled one iota.
Nevertheless, I am going to miss a lot of things. Though not a churchgoer myself, I am going to miss the church bells, indicative of small towns, as they chime on a Sunday morn. I’m going to miss the giant old maple that hovers over our backyard, keeping the temperature 10 degrees cooler on hot summer days. I’m going to miss the bird life that continually moves through its outstretched arms. Within its cover there is a world all its own. I’ll miss, too, the whisper of the wind through its branches and the lagging drip of rain from its massive leafy cover.
I’m going to miss the bell-tone honk of the geese as they fly overhead. I’ll miss the cardinal’s call, the robins warble, the song sparrows melody, the mournful coo of the dove and the chickadee’s happy little dee-dee-dee. I’ll miss the wrap-wrap-wrap of the woodpeckers, and the nuthatches gentle call. I’ll miss the scream of the blue jay and, as well, the haw-haw-haw of the crows as they laugh at the world and its people. Yes, I know, I’m going to miss all of this.
But most of all I’m going to miss the friendly banter of neighbours, friends and strangers as they pass by on the street. I’ll miss their never-ending offers to help, their help and their friendly comments of concern. I’ll miss selling perennial plants that I have grown in the back yard, birdhouses that volunteers have helped to build and package in my carport. And, too, I’ll miss selling the canaries I raised from the aviary in our back yard, as well as the personalized signing of my four published books. I’m going to miss all of this.
But on the other hand, I have lived long enough to be a firm believer in the adage that for every door closed another will open. I think I am in for, and am looking forward to, some exciting times ahead.
Take care, ‘cause we care.