THE PASSAGE OF A LIFE SHOULD SHOW

 40 of #100daychallenge

Vera is a much better desk sleeper than Fox. Vera Paris is probably the most focussed and organized being in this household, which may not be THAT much of an achievement. Still, it is good to have an exemplary figure around the house. 

I am borderline verklempt tonight. I will own being tired. I ran into my neighbor, Sally this morning and we quickly moved to our favorite mutual subject, gardening. I had to show her a couple of cool things like the dinnerplate dahlias, and this "automatic bouquet" rose ... I have no idea where or when I purchased it or what it might be. Turns out my nextdoor Sally ALSO has a baby tooth that never descended. Now, this might not be a big deal to you, but I have never met another person who has a baby tooth. AND we share a name! We giggled about that.

 I drove my mom across town to her eye appointment, picked up Ulysses, hit Savers, and then picked up mom. We then stopped for doughnuts and food and went to KH who was nearish by working on her mother's effects with her brother, M. We hung out with them for awhile, trying to ... not cheer them as much as comfort them. Janet was a gem, giving off some loving mom vibes and being a trouper although she had had an injection for her macular degeneration that morning.

I am thinking a bit about what is "owed" and what "needs be paid." I think my domineers yogis and yoginis are "aware" that I am teaching them gratis. One of them mentioned it to me this afternoon when he came over to share his County Food Bank largesse which I mostly share with a person who comes by on Tuesday to pick up bottles. As in NYC, I leave my monetarily valuable recyclables out and now I leave leftover largesses from Jimmy. But the idea that I want or need to be paid for helping them/teaching them is absurd. The exchange is equal in what I get in learning from them and the sweet sweet gratification of doing a necessary and good thing. I am the one that is grateful here.

It has been a bit of an emotional week what with one dear friend experiencing some unprecedented breakthroughs in his self understanding, while another lost her mother. Meanwhile, I am frustrated that my home is getting to a pre-Shelly state full of un-put-away things and boxes that need to be dealt with. Perhaps I am being hard on myself as I did do the necessaries to get to teach Chair Yoga this summer and kept up with some reasonable level of writing, reading, and gardening.

To that end, Janet is shuffling down the hall to brush her teeth. I needs get up early for yoga, followed by a reunion breakfast of two yoginis from our Saturday wall class that I liked very much. Then dinner with my extended family, Lydia, Rand, and likely their son, Jules, so it will be a long day.

THINGS SHOULDN’T BE SO HARD

A life should leave

deep tracks:

ruts where she

went out and back

to get the mail

or move the hose

around the yard;

stand before the sink,

a worn-out place;

beneath her hand

the china knobs

rubbed down to

white pastilles;

the switch she

used to feel for

in the dark

almost erased.

Her things should

keep her marks.

The passage 

of a life should show;

it should abrade.

And when life stops,

a certains space—

however small—

should be left scarred

by the grand and

damaging parade.

Things shouldn’t

be so hard.

— Kay Ryan, The Best of It: New and Selected Poems, Grove Press, New York, 2010

for Bernice M, mother of a dear friend, June, 5, 1928 to May 27, 2021.