Yesterday

I wrote this yesterday, but the two times I attempted to post it, we had severe thunderstorms and tornados in the area and I opted to turn the computer off, rather than risk it being fried.

So here it is, a day late.....

This morning Melanie was sleeping soundly when I arrived at the hospital. She looked so peaceful and I knew she needed rest. I decided to run back home while she slept, and do a few things that needed to be done and pick up the bootie pattern I had forgotten to stick in my knitting bag this morning.

It was misting by the time I drove into the driveway. That sort of rain that falls gently and kisses you with rain so soft you are sure it must be from the fairy folk.

It feels good to be breathing air other than the hospital air. Its not cold outside, neither is it warm. Sweater weather perhaps is the best way to describe it. Great weather to go exploring and turn over old rotting logs to see what lives there, or walk deep into the undergrowth of old woods and see ferns coming up from the rich moist soil and hear sounds so seldom heard any place else.

Just daydreaming, for there are other things to be done.
Before the heavy rain descended on me, I decided to head out back and cut some roses for Melanie. They are so beautiful right now. Each bush an explosion of color and fragrance. Reminding me of a canvas alive with colorful dabs of paint against a background of vibrant spring green. The whole world seemed new to me. I have so missed my morning walks, but there is a higher calling right now. Caring for a child of mine, now grown into a woman, soon to be a mother, but still needing a mothers touch to make her more comfortable. Your child is always your child, no matter how old they are chronologically. Their needs change, but reaching out to sooth a hurt is always a need, no matter what kind of pain, be it physical or emotional. Mothering is a life long committment. One that should always be filled with unconditional love for the child. Yes, I understand there are times with some children we cannot condone certain negetive behaviors but we can never withhold love.
As I wandered, I mused about my upcoming position in life as a Grandmother. It dawned on me that I will be a bridge, a bridge from the newest things in life to some older ways. My own grandmother bridged her life, her times with mine and how grateful I am to her for that.
She instilled in me a love for things old, for things cherished from the time before me. Gentler ways. I want to do that for my grand-daughters. Teach them to cherish the simpler things in life, to appreciate hand crafts, cooking from scratch, kneading bread by hand, hanging clothes, spinning wool, making soap, sitting by lamp light while playing a game on the floor. The value of modesty, of honor, of being tender hearted and filled with the joy of learning to learn. I want to teach them the love of a tea party, the scent of roses and the joy of reading a good book. To help them understand that it is virtuous to run a home and be a mother. To show them that there is so much more than "things" and "stuff" in the world.
Their mothers and fathers will teach them these things too, but I can take it back further in time than their parents can. I can teach them the things my grandmother taught me about how her mother did things and how she did them. I can bridge the old with the new and show these two little girls that there is so much of life that has nothing to do with what money buys. I have time for this task, because so many years ago we made the choice between my staying at home which meant for us, having an old house, an old car, not going out to eat, or having nicer things. The bigger things in life often end up being thiefs and stealing our peace of mind and our time. They make us miss out on so much. It's still been the best decision we have made in life for me to stay at home. Not one regret ever. Even though the children are all married, I am still needed at home so much of the time, to run errands, to care for a sick family member, to cook big family meals and so much more. How grateful we are that we learned long ago that we could exist on just Emery's salary, even when it was very small.