Threw a
Party
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It was not
the usual party. Bear with me while I paint a picture for you of the background
that led to this strange, but not unfamiliar, party.
First thing,
Baby Marley, my great-granddaughter, who spent the winter in the hospital NICU
in Billings, who is still fighting the effects, came down with Covid. Oh, yes,
the whole family fell ill, one by one, like a standing-on-edge row of dominoes.
Every
morning I’d check in. How is Marley? How are Kyla, Leilani, Tate, Jessica and
Damon? How is Grandma? Whew!
The whole
week I lived in a cloud of worry. That fog dominated my senses. I knew I wasn’t
thinking straight. But I couldn’t seem to shift gears.
I even
managed to work myself up into a couple days of my own minor illness, mirroring
my family’s symptoms without benefit of Covid.
During this
time, three of my friends, three of the other homeowners here, flew in for
various periods of time. Every day they were off gadding about, doing fun
things. I succumbed to a tinge of envy.
Now, these
three women have known each other all their lives. Two of them are here for a
short period of time, will be back come winter. It is only normal that they
would cram in every minute of fun that they can.
Of course,
they don’t invite me. They know I am saving every peso for truck rental when I
move, maybe in two or three months. I turn down every invitation.
Doesn’t
matter that I wouldn’t go with them. Doesn’t matter that “no, thanks” would be
my decision. I still felt left out. Feelings are so weird, not to be always
trusted, eh? I didn’t say this was going to be a pretty party.
Then, while
purging and packing a cupboard, sorting through posters from plays I’d been in
or had directed, I caught a bad case of the “remember whens?” and that, on top
of the aforementioned, led me to my degeneration
into a pity party, one lone party pooper attendant, my own self.
To have a
really good down-in-the-dirt pity party, one must feed it. What better food
than comparing one’s insides to other people’s outsides. I always come out of
this comparison feeling “less than”. If you have a need to feel badly, I
guarantee this method works.
Fortunately
for me, I felt myself hit bottom. Whoa. Hold your horses, woman. Let’s turn
this team around. We don’t really want to stay at this party.
I would love
to tell you that we left the party at a gallop. Party over! Well, it didn’t
work that way.
For a good
hour, I had to self-talk my way back out of my slump. It was hard work. There
is something in my mind that gets a payback from a little self-pity and it
didn’t want to let me go.
What I can
tell you is that once I got my Tigger-bouncy mind calmed down, I was able to
take that pity party in a strong grip, gather all my energy, plant my feet
firmly, knees flexed, windmill my arm in my very best caricature of a baseball
pitcher, and throw that party as far away from me as I could fling it. I think
it flew over the mountains plop into the ocean.
That’s how I
threw a party.
My family is
in various stages of sick and getting better.
Baby Marley
is still snuffly but has the “energy of a horse”.
My friends
are packing their days full of adventures.
My mind has
settled down to appreciating the wonders of the day.
Mangos are
in full ripe juiciness. Life is good again.
Invitation
to a party? Uh, no thanks. I’m partied out.
Sondra
Ashton
HWC: Looking
out my back door
July 25,
2024
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