Yesterday, while taking my left-over Famous Dave’s ribs from the microwave, I felt a longing for my father. All of a sudden, I started to think about how Wendell and I would drive out to Dad’s farm with Famous Dave’s ribs and how much fun we had eating and laughing together. Feeling nostalgic, I began to ache for my friend Jeanne, who could always make me laugh, ribs or not. And Larry, whose warm heart and cheerful disposition lit up the room wherever he was. That morning I had been reading Sharon Butala, a Canadian who writes of aging, and the loneliness she felt living in rural Saskatchewan: “If I felt lonely I’d sometimes walk out and climb that hill in hopes of catching a reassuring glimpse of him.”
In the midst of this chain of remembrances, I glanced out the window and noticed two neighbors walking toward each other. I rushed out to join them.
One of the neighbors, dressed in shorts and a long-sleeved aqua top, with stylish sandals that would kill my feet, said she was getting ready for her grandchildren who were coming for the holiday weekend. I swallowed hard, feeling envious knowing no family was coming to see us this weekend but then quickly, after commenting to her she was lucky, began to think of how much work it would be to entertain. The other woman, also in shorts but wearing a white short-sleeved loose-fitting blouse over a tee-shirt, was making certain to hold the leash of her normally grouchy yippy white dog, a dog I normally ignored, hoping it would go away, but who that day, scooted over close to sniff my shoe. Oddly, I felt a tenderness towards this creature.
We stood on the lawn talking about downsizing by cleaning the garage, exercising, and, of course, it being Iowa, the weather. I felt a sense of camaraderie and a huge sense of gratitude for life as it is. Just look out the window!
