Happy Secret Birthday, Me

 

Happy Secret Birthday, Me

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Remember when you couldn’t wait? When each additional year brought joyful anticipation, jumping up-and-down glee? What? When you were six. Then ten. Eighteen. Even, in a different way, twenty-one. That was then.

I have a dear friend who still gets that excited. For years she has extended birthdays from The Day to The Birthday Week and celebrates herself every day. She’s healthier than I am.

Me, I skulk around hoping nobody remembers. I don’t want any fuss. So I keep schtum.

I also have friends who keep track of everyone’s birthdays. This is good. They let me know when to send best wishes. We are scattered distances. No fuss, just good feelings. I enjoy their birthdays. I enjoy their greetings to me. Makes me feel warm and fuzzy.

Last week I turned a daily calendar page and grew another whole year older. It is no secret. But, I didn’t run around singing “Happy Birthday to Me”.

In a way, this birthday which sneaked up on me is a surprise. It won’t make sense to say I never thought I’d get to this age. Here I am. Fortunate and blessed. I don’t take any medications. Most of the friends my age gulp a daily dose of pills the size of a packet of M & M’s. My blood work is good. My problems are mechanical, annoyances, like a flat tire or the left back wheel locked up. They slow me down.

“Slow down” is a good thing for a woman who approached life most of my years “like killing snakes”, so I’ve been told by those close to me.

In my own little ways, I celebrated my birthday. My party began with a huge dish of steamed asparagus, seasoned with butter, salt and pepper. A dishful. Not two spindly spears like one gets as decoration in an upscale restaurant. I love asparagus. 

Mid-afternoon John came by to share some news. He left my place to go see Kathy and Richard. I said, “I’ll tag along.” I filled Lola’s dog dish but left early, took my dog; left my gate open.

Crin was in her garden, dragging a fallen palm leaf, so we hailed her and said, “Join us.” On her way through her gate, Crin saw Lani and said, “Let’s go to Kath and Rich’s.” “Be there shortly,” Lani replied.

We got settled. Kathy brought out glasses and a pitcher of water, which is the perfect drink on a day in the 90s.

Sure enough, shortly, Lani and Ariel appeared. Ariel carted in a beautiful chocolate cake.

All I can say is that it was perfect. It’s my birthday. And my friends gathered for an unintentional celebration complete with cake. I kept my secret close to my heart. No focus, no fuss. Just good cake with good friends and it was all the more special to me.

Let me tell you the side story. Lola used to sneak into Josue’s yard and scarf up Snowball’s dog food. Snowball is like her name, a little bitty thing. Lola liked Snowball’s brand of chow better than her own. There was nothing to do but change my dog food. So I bought a bag for Snowball and a bag for Lola.

Snowball has a new friend, a four-month old pup, Hunter. Hunter has paws the size of saucers, so you get an idea how big he will grow to be. Though taller than mid-size Lola, Hunter is a pup. 

When Lola and I got back to our house after having chocolate cake at my secret birthday party, I saw first thing that Lola’s just-filled bowl was empty. Not just empty, but licked slick and shiny.

I did laugh as I refilled Lola’s bowl. Hunter had come bounding into our open gate, sniffed out the bounty and helped himself. Retribution.

I think the Universe does like balance. I turned 78 and got an unexpected party with friends and cake. Hunter ate an extra meal, payback for all the times Lola ate little Snowball’s food.

Sondra Ashton

HDN: Looking out my back door

April, after birthday, after Easter

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Una Semana Muy Dificil

 

Una Semana Muy Dificil 

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The first week in October is always a difficult week for me. It marks the anniversary of the death of my baby. He’d been alive that morning. He died that night when he was born.

Still a girl myself, I’d been married only a year and a half. My family did the thing they did best. They hid away all the pain and hurt. I thought that is what everyone did. Stuffed the grief into a hole and covered it with concrete blocks. Or heavy weight of a sort.

Of course, over the years, the pain, still alive, periodically exploded through the concrete, generally in inappropriate ways, cutting and bruising anybody nearby, causing me even more grief.

Eventually, with professional help, I learned to look head-on at my hurts and deal with them in healthier ways, knowing they never go away.

Yes, this past week was difficult. Grief came calling. We had cups of tea and fresh bread. Examined the scars. Talked about things. I held my baby whom I never got to hold in my arms.

Painful, certainly, but I didn’t have to wallow in it. I looked for balance. There is always balance. Some days it is harder to find than other days, but it is there, waiting for me to see it.

I canned tomato/apple catsup. Neighbors would ask me how many jars I put up. Enough, I answered. I didn’t count them. I made one batch for give-away. I took around a jar for each neighbor.

Living here where every food is fresh daily, I’ve not much need for canning. But pickles, jams and a decent spicy catsup are not available in our little town. So I make my own and enjoy the making and the eating.

I sat on the patio a lot, reading, visiting neighbors, reading, just sitting, reading.

More than the usual number of bed-sheet butterflies wafted by. They comfort me, make me smile, always. That’s my name for them, not the scientific name, but when you see one, that’s what you’d call it too. They are huge, flap those big white wings like sheets on the line in the Montana wind.

I put away my sewing projects and dumped the pieces of a new puzzle onto the table. Crin gifted me this puzzle. She knows I like difficult jigsaws. When she told the cashier she was buying it for a good friend who loves puzzles, the cashier told her that maybe when I tried to work this one, I’d no longer be her friend. We laughed.

I’m still her friend, but holy smokies, I see the point. This mess is very monochromatic, a line drawing, crowded, not much to differentiate one section from another. I still have five missing edge pieces and I’ve fingered every piece numerous times. With luck I’ll finish by Christmas.

The government clinic in town has flu shots this week. Went and got my jab.

Leo drove me to Oconahua to visit Ana and Michelle. I had made some large hot pads for their barbeque table, took them some jars of tomato/apple catsup. Michelle always brews a cup of her special cappucchino for us. We tell more stories of ourselves, laugh, get angry at the same foolishness, laugh, gossip, laugh, trade garden secrets and laugh.

We’ve got a bobcat roaming the place. I don’t know if that affects to the balance or not. But the wild feline adds to the excitement. He or she marked territory out by my avocado tree the other night. I recommend you avoid bobcat urine if possible. Made me sick to my stomach.

Lola The Dog somehow had sense enough to stay hunkered in her Dog Mansion and never even whoofed. Snowball next door, a tiny morsel, is still alive and all Janet’s cats are still catting around.

Hurricane Orlene covered us with heavy clouds and never brought us a bit of rain. It’s hard to judge which side of the balance scale that sits on. Depends on perspective, I would say, but don’t most things?

Life surrounds me, life for the living woven with memories of those gone on. As Julian of Norwich said, “All shall be well. All manner of thing shall be well.”

Sondra Ashton

HDN: Looking out my back door

October, first week

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