On Hold—But—The
World Keeps Turning
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Thank you, Daughter, for writing my
article last week. Rocking chair, indeed! Next time I’m incapacitated, I’ll ask
my Son to take my place. I didn’t break that
many rules.
New eyeballs! There is a huge, vibrant, crisp and clear world
out here, just waiting for me to explore. But my most excellent doctor, with
whom I nearly fell in love pre-surgery, turned into a growly ogre post-surgery.
End of romance.
“What do you mean, stay indoors?
Don’t garden? Stay away from public places? Don’t bend. Sleep on back. Don’t
pick up anything weighty. What does that mean? Don’t stand over a steaming pot
cooking. Stay out of the oven. Don’t read, no computer, no television. (I don’t
own a television.)
“Sunglasses.” “Okay, shades, I
understand.” Sunglasses are sexy, friends tell me.
“You bring me back this same pair of
perfect eyes I see today,” said Dr. Landazuri.
Reluctantly, I nodded. I never
thought of myself as a rebel. In fact, I’m rather too compliant. But this is
hard. Don’t read? I feel like my life is on hold, final exam February 7, before
Dr. L will push the “play” button.
Meanwhile the world keeps turning.
Do I follow the rules? I do the best I can. If I drop a sock,
I can hardly call my neighbor. I pick up the sock. One day I went outside without my sunglasses. Two infractions in one. Josue immediately tagged me,
sending me scurrying back indoors. On a windy, dusty day, yes.
My never-ending garden demands care.
Reluctantly, I get help. Leo always does the heavy work for me. (Yesterday he
also swept and mopped my floors. Asking for help is hard for me to do.)
Roses need dead-heading. My first
amaryllis bloomed. My lime tree is heavy with blossoms; my orange trees filled
with tiny green globes. The jacaranda trees shed leaves in the smallest breeze.
In days they will burst with new green.
I asked David, who owns the vivero (garden center) why my naked
trees along the brick wall were dead. He looked at me strangely, “It’s winter.”
Winter? Fall? Spring? How do I tell? Each plant seems to have a different
season. You should see my riot-of-color-geraniums!
My son bought me a new computer and
set it up so it would be easy for me to use. He knows me, knows what I want.
She is a lovely all-in-one with a large screen so I can watch movies via
Netflix. Three weeks ago my son put my computer into the care of UPS for
shipping.
Henrietta, she already has a
personality, is taking the scenic route. She has criss-crossed Washington and
Oregon, delayed by ice storms and extreme weather, and is now in Idaho? What is
“extreme weather”? Why Idaho?
My son said, “Don’t worry. Think
about all the stories she will have. Think Mardi Gras beads.”
Several days ago Bonnie carried
around a colorful King’s Cake for each of us to cut a slice. People in many countries
follow this tradition, to celebrate religious festivals, some at Epiphany. In
Mexico, the celebration is held Candlemas Day, in observance of Jesus’
presentation in the Temple.
When I cut into the cake, my slice
held a Baby Jesus figurine, which conferred on me honor and fortune throughout
the year. Along with the privilege, I also have an obligation to host a party
for friends and neighbors. Bonnie served three cakes so several of us lucky
ones will co-host the festivities. Following tradition, we will serve tamales
and atole, a drink made with masa, the corn flour used in tortillas, to which
fruit or chocolate is added.
This year’s party is February
second. I’d made plans to be in Mazatlan the third, so I changed my
reservations to the fourth. While I was changing my plans, Bonnie changed her
plans. The party will now be the fourth! I’ll contribute, but I’ll miss my own
party. What kind of fortune is that!
“Mexican surprise” is what my gringo
friends and I call it. It’s what happens when communication lines are fouled;
happens frequently when ordering dinner in a restaurant.
Meanwhile I am doing the best I can
with healing, patience and following rules. I can’t help it if sometimes I
forget and a book opens in my hands. When I was growing up, Grandma would call
me to set the table or do dishes. “Just one more chapter, please.” Not a lot
has changed. “Just one chapter, please.”
Sondra
Ashton
HDN: Looking
out my back door
January 26,
2017
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