Friday, April 21st
Good afternoon.
I had another post ready to go for Monday, but it doesn't seem appropriate at the moment. My son's fiancee lost her father to cancer earlier today; he'd been sick for quite awhile, and his fondest wish was to live long enough to walk his daughter down the aisle at the end of May. An hour later I learned that the husband of a friend here in town also passed at about the same time. I will spend the weekend contemplating their loss and my own four years ago. I know exactly what they're going through and it is awful.
I look out my window and watch the world go by with people I don't know, many of whom probably have some kind of trouble in their lives or will before long. A woman is jogging down the sidewalk with a man riding a bicycle behind her. I think they must be together because he isn't passing her. A bus, painted pink to call attention to breast cancer, travels slowly enough that I can see it isn't even half full; people don't ride the bus as much as they used to because most of us own a car. A UPS truck is behind the bus, and it's the same old brown but reassuring. Another woman appears with a dog on a leash somewhat ahead of her. We have almost as many dogs as people in the neighborhood, and many of them lead their owners down the street.
School has let out and there are kids with backpacks and headphones. They are all middle school age and eating something because that's what human beings on the verge of adolescence do: they eat. Every few minutes, women in groups of two or four walk past the house. None of them are wearing headphones or eating, but they're engaged in lively conversation because that's what women do: they talk. There's an interesting gal in town who takes her bird for a walk on her shoulder - a cockatoo I think - so she also has someone to chat with on her journey. Another jogger goes by in a neon orange shirt and a purple baseball cap; she is probably tired of talking but makes a certain statement.
The lawns are all green because it rained a lot last week, and the flowering crab tree across the street will pop when the weather warms up again. It is huge and old but still produces an abundance of white blossoms every year. The peonies are half up and will be pink and deep red. They are older than I am, have lived in several places, and have survived being moved around better than most people do. The vines on the house will shortly be covered with leaves that will provide shade from the afternoon sun, but then I won't be able to see the passersby, not a good trade-off.
My son is coming through town tomorrow on his way to comfort the love of his life and will drop off his cat. My dog will not be pleased, but I have already told her it's the least we can do. Life is short and unpredictable and heartbreaking, but it is meant to be celebrated, perhaps especially in the spring, even just by watching people out the window and giving a cat a safe place to stay for a few days.
Best regards,
Elisabeth
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