Thirty-eight houseplants

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Yesterday while eating lunch, I watched the images slide by on Sunflower, our electronic picture frame. My eyes fixated on a picture of Marlo, my northern California granddaughter standing next to the fanciest carved jack-o-lanterns I have ever seen. The expression on her face said she adores Halloween. I emptied my mug of oh be joyful tea and smiled as I realized this was something she and I had in common! We both love Halloween!

Clearing away my dirty dishes I began wondering why was I thinking about Halloween on this beautiful spring day. Then similar to how the pictures slid one at a time into the electronic frame, a memory from one of the hardest years of my life materialized. 1997-8. My Mother had just died and I, the sibling who believed she would never get divorced (it was thought to be a sin back then), or be divorced like her three other siblings, got divorced after thirty-three years of marriage. Needing temporary housing, I leased a month-to-month tacky furnished apartment in a West Des Moines complex. Part of me was excited to have a place of my own for the first time in my entire life and another part was afraid I might run into one of the scruffy men residents in the stairwell.

I didn’t realize that people were feeling sorry for me having to live there when I invited them to my Halloween party. I decorated with cutout tombstones and skeletons all the while admiring my creativity. I didn’t realize some people would be too afraid to accept my invitation because of my new location. I was a little unnerved observing the people who braved coming, looking at me with what felt like pity in their eyes. No one complimented me on the thirty-eight house plants that covered every inch of space. Nor did they comment favorably on the Halloween decorations.  

After dismissing this mixed-up-feelings-transitional memory, I mused again on why I had been thinking so much about Halloween. I was curious how Wendell and I celebrated last year so I retrieved last year’s 2022 Datebook calendar from my files. As I thumbed through it, I noted that Halloween was on a Monday but my goodness, the Friday before, Friday, October 28, was the day Wendell requested I call 911 because he was having a heart attack.

Those of you who have been reading Exploring the Mystery for a little while will know how important free association and recognizing milestones are for me.  I went from thinking of my granddaughter’s favorite holiday to a memory from a difficult time in my life to recognize that it had been six months since Wendell’s heart attack. It had been half a year since the frantic 911 call – the franticness being on my part, not Wendell’s.  Six months of full-bodied healing called for gratitude and celebration.

How do you remember to celebrate milestones?

IMAGE: Mr. Skeleton contemplates houseplants near meditation bench. Feel free to ask me if you have questions about this image.

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