I threw open the doors and windows this morning, a gentle breeze blowing the delicious air through the house. We want it to be Fall, but the Georgia summer is clinging to it like a baby to its Mama. For those new to us, know that it's not truly Fall until it's Winter. We rotate through four seasons until January or February, then it becomes a greige-y, blustery, miserable kaleidoscope of sleet, rain and occasional winter storm. The mercy is that winter is very short and then daffodils start poking out their heads. Of course, they get frozen somewhere in there and start over. I'm already looking forward to it. I need to calm down, enjoy this day and forget about the coming spectre of winter. There's Thanksgiving and Christmas somewhere in there, thank God. Live in the today, I keep telling myself. Except those Christmas gifts don't get bought all by themselves.
Last week was a whirl of doctor appointments, wrasslin' with insurance providers over my wrecked car, practicing for our upcoming Fall concert (John Williams on steroids at the Carrollton Center for the Arts -- October 18!!), eating better and seeing lots of soccer games with grands. The weeks fly by, behaving more like the "days" back when we were younger. The consolation of mature age, for me, is the sweet faces of our grandchildren, full of life and promise, unjaded.
Our daughter took a day out of her life to take me to downtown Atlanta for a test I had to have (which included sedation, so I had to be driven home). She has her Father's DNA when it comes to many things, particularly driving. If I haven't said it a hundred times, I simply have to say it just one more: they don't drive, they qualify. We were squeezed into her little Honda RV -- Liz, me, and her three babies. Little 9-month-old Zariah was hangry-hollering like a siren, when we got pulled over by the police. Liz said, "Don't say a word, Mama. I got this." I restrained myself, with great effort. The police lady took one look (and listen) and gave Liz a warning. She deposited me and proceeded to go to the park and the library while she waited. In the hospital, I found myself surrounded by several nurses and support people - angels, surely. The doctor was late getting there, so we had time to get acquainted, swapping stories and connections. By the time he arrived, we were in full, laughing, party mode. The anesthetician put a mask over my face, and before I knew what was what, I was waking up in a recovery room. I always try to stay awake in those situations but can't ever override the pull of the Sandman. The kind nurse who was attending me had already called Liz to let her know I was awake. He spoke to me about my life, my children, and the goodness of the Lord in his own world. I left that place feeling like I had been in a love cloud all morning.
It took us over two hours to make it back home (what should have been a 45-minute drive), but that's Atlanta on a Friday afternoon. We collapsed like spent balloons, just about the same time that Papa got there. Then there was the blur of the rest of the weekend. Here it is Monday, and I intend to embrace the zephyr wafting through the house, our sweet, sweet, old Magnoliarose (Ken's name for her). That and a stiff cup of coffee...
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