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| Hosta 'First Blush' 15 October 2022 |
I wrote (link below) yesterday which was almost chipper. And this one (link below) on 18 February of this year is not so chipper.
Today, I think this idea that I am waiting, just waiting is getting darker.
The day begins with feeding the cats and reading my papers in bed with my breakfast tray. Then I go to the garden to see what plants I can scan. Because we are in mid-October, the pickings are slim. What this means is that what is left involves that neutrally lousy word “housekeeping” and deciding what I will eat for a mid-afternoon lunch/dinner.
With the days growing dark sooner it seems I end up in bed earlier. This disturbs me as my grandmother in 1969 returned from a visit to her son Tony from Egypt and when I looked into her face there was nobody home. She would get ready for bed earlier and earlier. She died a year later.
The only important activity is to walk Niño around the
block. This action makes me feel useful. But it is melancholic because I take the same route Rosemary did before she died. I don't believe in ghosts but I imagine her presence. Today with Niño in tow, I saw a young couple of gay women walking hand in hand and I wanted to tell them, "Sex is not all that important. Just keep holding hands." That is what I miss the most of my Rosemary.
The only other activity left is to do what I am doing right now, writing.
And I wait.
As my grandmother used to say to me. “El que espera desespera’. What that means I amply explain in the links to the above blogs.
