Tuesday afternoon, day off. I’ve heard “coronavirus”, “pandemic”,
and “Covid” more times than any person should have to hear them during an entire lifetime. Turn the media off, and I go into what we used to call “puttering around the house.” No real agenda, just small errands that we haven’t gotten to finish yet. Folding the last load out of the dryer. Filling the dishwasher. Watering the orchids.
In the midst of all the miscellania, I remembered it was time for eye drops again. It’s a four-times-a-day thing since my eye surgery last week, and takes about 20 minutes each session. Heck, if I’m going to sit I might as well have a Coke. And that’s when it all began.
Reaching for a glass out of the cupboard, I saw the little engraved glasses that always remind me of my father-in-law. I’m not sure why they do. Maybe the folks had a set, or maybe this set used to be theirs and came to us when we divided up their household things. In any case, I can’t drink from them without having my father-in-law come along in essence. I invited him to have a Coke with me.
As I got the ice and filled the glass, I thought it would be nice to sit under the big Norfolk Island Pine that I just relocated in our sunroom. I moved it to a shelf only a bit higher than the stool it was on, but the move opened up the area to a different feeling. Less crowded with greenery, and a fresh look at what really amounts to our own personal jungle.
“Fresh look” really says it, too, as I began to appreciate how well the Pine has grown — and it is lovely! Perhaps a bit overwhelming to try to sit by it, but we’ll settle it in with a bump of the old recliner or relocating the lamp. And then I realized, it was Dad’s and came to us when he passed.
It’s been nearly ten years. A long time…. and in ways, no time at all. On my way to deal with eyedrops, Coke in hand, I had to laugh when I realized the chair I was headed for was also Dad’s. We got it when Mom insisted he get a new one. But he loved it so much that he offered my husband his brand new recliner, if he could just have his old one back.
So, here I sit, having a Coke with Dad. In his chair. Under his tree. And life….. life is good. Miss you, Dad. Thanks for being woven into our everyday life, even now.
(c) 2020, J. Cools