This morning my feelings are all jumbled up. I see green stubs poking through the ground and the dusting of snow outside my window, and I am yearning for those stubs to grow and blossom. That’s weeks away yet, but I am ready. I yearn for the feeling of moist earth between my fingers, for the time to get out and clean up the debris from last year’s blooms, to try to tame the weeds – a futile effort – for the smell of rich earth and green grass.
I regret that there are times in my past life where I did not try harder, was not a little wiser and more empathetic. I stumbled upon some Facebook posts a couple of days ago that roused my curiosity, my concern, and brought up times now long past. These posts concerned the daughter of an ex-husband with whom I had sporadic contact, and led me to believe that she died. Apparently she has, but details are not forthcoming. She was about my daughter’s age, a year or so younger. She had a harsh life. She had a mother that tried, but was crippled in too many ways and died too young. She had a father – my ex – that loved only when you performed to his expectations, and she had a hard time keeping up with those expectations, eventually giving up and rebelling. He was a man who could not love himself, therefore could love no one else. He could not accept the fact that perhaps he did deserve happiness, so he worked, very successfully, to destroy relationships that seemed to be providing, or able to provide, happiness. She and I clashed – we tried to work things out, but she resisted me and I did not have the wisdom to find my way to help her the way she needed to be helped. She struggled, and at times it looked as if she might just make it – might just find the happiness we all deserve. But the father’s self-destruct mechanism had embedded itself in her, and those times were short-lived. It appears she died alone. Oh, she had friends, but her need to have someone that loved her as she was, without expectation, and would stand by her through the hell that much of her life was – that need was never filled. She was not without blame. She was lost. I am sad.
Yet, the sun shines, the birds are singing, I am comfortable in my surroundings. I am grateful that my children have grown into responsible adults, independent and adventurous – despite my shortcomings, despite those things in the past that perhaps I would change if I could be certain that change would be for the better, but yet not change the core of who we have become.
I read the headlines – I listen for the news reports – I try to absorb what the politicians are saying, trying to sift through what should be, can be, believed and what is obviously not reality. I worry though – seriously, are these people we’re really considering putting into the position of being the president of our country? Where are we headed? Is there anyone out there with a shred of common sense? Why is it I almost always seem to end up voting for the lesser of the evils?
So I sit here, yearning for the warmth of spring, for the bright blossoms that sing out the time for a fresh start. Regretting things that are out of my control, that cannot be changed. Feeling sad because there are too many lost lives in this world. Feeling – frustrated, confused, content. Feeling the warmth of my home, of my loved ones, of my furry girls. But – wanting a little more – a little something not identifiable.
It is enough. I wish it were for everybody.