The sad truth is I ranted myself right out of business. Grumped and harrumphed, sighed frequently, complained of arthritis and before I knew it I had been born away by our dear family. Packed up and carted away to life in San Diego. Our new residence is lovely, but a far piece from home. Ah, but it is close to Kaiser and all those intricate plans and devices that will keep us alive into the year 2055.
Frankly, I’m all for dying. Do our sons, Mike, Bill and Fred, really believe that bringing us closer to them and the utter chaos of city life will keep us alive longer?
How long will the voracious squirrel who chewed the bottom out of the bird feeder remember us? What about Father Dan from St. Hugh of Lincoln? Just how long will he wait for us? Forever, I suspect. He’s like that. And Nanci. And Peggy. And the millions of grubs, bird friends, Larry, Terry and Sara, the pizza delivery man and the mailman. Oh, maybe not. Scrap those two blokes.
The rock by the side of the road hums and my lover and I know the tune.
What am I saying? There is no recognizable tune. Only a silent reassurance that sails through the aloft and the below telling us that thanks to Idyllwild we have learned to recognize the knowable and all powerful energy that lives here. Our always home. Our always friends.