I called my dad EARLY this morning to wish him a happy Father’s Day. I also made certain he knew I’d be emailing his poem to him. Recently, I shared We Don’t Want To Rewind Time on this blog, and the piece is actually doing very well across all writing platforms. I wanted/want him to know I’ll always have a place in my heart for him, and there will never be anything but love for me to share with him. Regardless of anything and everything else, there is love.
So, on this Father’s Day, I want to wish every father, caretaker, mentor, uncle, older cousin, and anyone who is giving their time, efforts, and love to a child or children of any age nothing but love and a beautiful day ahead.
For anyone remembering a father or fathers no longer here with us, I offer you peace and healing, and may there be happy memories for you to pull from your memory bank to reflect upon and embrace.
I am enjoying a lovely breakfast as my own personal gift to all of you by way of a happy tummy.
With her flirtatious spirit, summer is nearly here, and the dog and I trot up the hills–pacing with matching breaths. I wait for her to catch up with me–her old limbs slowly bending in the direction of our journey. She is cautious but she is carefree. She looks to her right and to her left, stops to sniff the grass, then uses every thistle as her personal licking buddy. I know not of what she’ll find. I stand patiently waiting for her to join me once again.
The sun hasn’t fully awakened–its eyes not yet focused on our backs, so we walk toward the wind. I smile at my neighbors, nod a “Hello,” and gently pull Jernee closer to me. I take no chances. Some people love to approach dog owners, and usually, I am okay with company but the pandemic’s ongoing stay has me even more skeptical of allowing space. We circle the block, breathe in and breathe out, and welcome our home away from home. We finally made it.
a long morning walk with my old girl by my side escaping summer
I wake up when my left leg starts to ache, the shift from night to morning takes no time. I feel the sun before it even peeks through my curtains. Rainy days offer me tension and tightness from an old injury, and I stretch and stretch and stretch until I feel loose.
The dog pats away at her crate, ready to be released. I slip out of bed, slip into some “for people who’ll see me” clothes, wash my face, drink a bottled water, and harness the dog for our morning walk.
We brave whatever nonsense stands before us willingly at an early hour. We are no strangers to strangeness, yet nothing comes that is out of the ordinary, at least, on most days. But we’re ready just in case.
Twenty minutes later, we are rejuvenated and awake enough to think coherently. I feed her, take a shower, eat breakfast, drink 8oz of water or almond milk or orange juice, and brush my teeth.
With my body full and my mind ready, I endure a workday or a Saturday or Sunday full of more of the same or is it more of the sane? Time will tell, it always does.
The dog and I walk our path just as we do each morning–the gift of sun and a slight breeze await us. We breathe in the fresh air and breathe out the peace of another day beginning. In this part of the South, Spring greets us just as she should, but she has on her wings a thick strip of pollen to sprinkle everywhere as she sashays by.
I am an allergy sufferer–one of 50 million in the United States. The culprits? Pollen and shellfish (when not eaten in moderation). As much as I love to feel the sun’s rays beam down on my skin, during the spring months, I suffer the worst. The dog–also not too keen on pollen, does her share of sneezing and coughing. While I take a Claritin-D every morning, I also do nasal spray, and eye drops, and I sometimes have to take two Benadryl at night if the pollen count has been extremely high during that day.
I’m no stranger to Spring’s many gifts and I appreciate life awakening from the dead when she comes around. She lends us the beauty of sunny and longer days, the peace that can be found in birdsong, the cheerful laughter of children’s voices, beautiful blooms on trees and bushes, and wearing less clothing because of warmer temperatures.
But she can be vindictive, too.
It comes at a high cost when you’re an allergy sufferer. Spring can be your best friend or your worst enemy. I try to find the beauty in her without slashing away at her for the many days I struggle to breathe. I try to focus on the positive rather than the negative. I love the newness that surrounds me when she makes an entrance.
At least I know, I’ll garner more photos to look back on when I need a quick pick-me-up.
Spring–dawn’s gift to us comes at a high cost sometimes yet we welcome her.