Transitions

 

Transitions are hard for me.  I can recall envying Peter Pan because he didn’t have to “grow up”.  I even still remember the lyrics to “I Won’t Grow up”, a song from a Peter Pan musical on TV by Mary Martin (who played Peter Pan).  I would sing it and stomp around the house pretending to be Peter Pan. Junior high was especially difficult with my mother expecting me to go to school dances.  I’d cry that I didn’t want to go, but she would just drive me there and sit with me in the car until I could get my courage up. Most of the time I stood in the girl’s restroom trying to avoid dancing with anyone.  I liked to dance, but none of the boys could dance very well and that embarrassed me.

Coming out of the rest room one night, Steve String, pounced on me to be in a dance contest . There was nothing worse than dancing with the tallest, lankiest boy in the class in a dance contest.  I became more and more frustrated and agitated that we weren’t eliminated. We were doing a simple box step, not a waltz or cha-cha.  We just looked so silly together because I was one of the smallest girls and he was so tall and skinny he had the nickname “String Bean”.  We were finally eliminated in third place.  I RAN from the dance floor to the rest room so embarrassed that we had been spotlighted when we clearly looked weird together.

The next transition was from teen-ager to adult which was also difficult.  Most of that transition happened while I was in Germany when I started dating a 26 year old man.  While I professed to love him, I couldn’t stop flirting with and socializing with some of my students who were basically my age between 19 and 21.  I went with a class  to Venice, Italy on a school trip.  We had a great time having spaghetti eating contests as well as seeing the sights.  Most of my sight-seeing was done with Dieter whom I was attracted to.  I kept pumping my emotional brakes and made it through the week without crossing any boundaries.  But I did write about it in my journal.  I told my 26 year old boyfriend about it when I got back. He just smiled in his beautifully mature way, giving me a hug, telling me he understood.

After I returned from Germany and was a full-time teacher, I dated a man who was a bit on the wild side.  He was a Viet Nam vet who hadn’t attended college, rode a motor cycle, had long hair and a short beard.  We got along great until he took me to a party that reeked of marijuana and I saw drugs being used.  I didn’t panic until I saw several of my students across the room.  I had unintentionally crossed over that border..  I left immediately and told him we couldn’t go out if he was going to take me to parties like that. We stopped dating shortly after that.  I fully transitioned at 25 when I started dating Dave.

I have now reached another transition from a middle aged married woman to being an elderly widow.  I wonder about old boyfriends and have come to the realization they might be dead.  I sleep alone in my bed and wonder if I’ll ever wake up to a man beside me smiling. Will I ever go dancing on a moon-light cruise again? Will I ever be able to stay up until 9 PM again? What’s it like traveling solo these days? One of my friends vows she’ll never marry again.  She says in her sweet Mississippi accent,” I won’t be any man’s nurse or purse”. I laughed but a little part of me also cried.

I have a high school reunion coming up.  I wonder if I’m going to be one of those pathetic widows who grabs another widow to dance the cha-cha.  Or, will I grab Steve String (the Bean) to dance and hope he’s moved on from the box step.

Coming Undone

 Talking to various people whose spouses had to go to a nursing home, prepared me for
when the time came for Dave.  One woman had her daughters take her husband while she stayed home: she knew she’d break down.  Two men said taking their spouses to a nursing home was as heart-breaking as when their spouses died.

Fortunately my daughters are a lot like I am.  Moving Dave to the nursing home could have been the most awful day, but their upbeat humor got us through.  We were going just across the parking lot to another building where the nursing home is.  We put most of his things in tubs, but we were also taking a small wire shelving unit for his closet. Rebecca was pushing the tubs, hanging clothes and shelving on a large cart.  Brett (our grandson) was pushing Grandpa in the wheel chair. Rachel and I had rolling suitcases.

As we made the turn on the sidewalk to the nursing home, we noticed that a truck had backed in so far that he was blocking about half the sidewalk.  We could make it past, but Rebecca with the loaded cart could not.  So, she took off across the uneven parking lot and challenged us to a race.  She got about half way across when the cart tipped dumping everything in the middle of the parking lot with tub lids coming off and items rolling under parked cars.  

We entered the nursing home laughing and giggling as Rebecca came through the door looking like the Beverly Hillbillies with clothes off their hangers, the shelves on a slant followed by two laughing men who'd seen the whole situation unroll and were helping  Rebecca with items they'd rescued under parked cars.

The receptionist said she'd never seen such a happy group on move in day. On the elevator, we giggled at the scene we’d made.

Minutes after that, I saw Dave survey his stark room.  

That’s when my grieving began. ….

Listening

 

Listening has never been my strong suit---whether it was listening to my mother telling me to clean my room or trying to listen to a sermon.  My mother accused me of "tuning her out" or being so into a book, I put a wall around myself:  self imposed deafness was implied.  I finally learned to take notes when listening to a sermon or a class lecture, but socially, listening is a skill that I never could find a "work around" other than asking someone to write me a note, e-mail or text.  I learn more about what is being said by facial expression and gestures than by the spoken word.

My daughters have the same problem so there's possibly a genetic component.  I even took them for hearing tests as children when they failed the listening part of standardized tests.  Their hearing checked out but I made sure they had tape recorders when they went to college (before iphones).

I learn by watching something being done  so I need a visual for full listening comprehension.  I had an English friend when I was in college who called me from New York on his way home to England.  I couldn't understand a word he said because I had no visual clues.  He could have been professing his love, begging me to run away, or telling me the plane had been hijacked, but I couldn't understand him.  When he hung up, I just sat down and cried.  Seeing someone's facial expression and the formation of the words is critical in my understanding.

Now, in my twilight years, I have hearing loss.  Without hearing aids, everything sounds like I'm under water.  I can hear noise but I can't understand any of it---even the visual clues aren't helping.  As much as I love hearing a familiar voice, I'm not comprehending.  Zoom has helped a lot---I can see and hear---and with the focus of zoom on individual faces speaking, it's been a great help.

Recently, MP, our pastor, has encouraged us to take a Sabbath.  Being a caregiver, it's hard for me to take a whole day to be by myself or to take a sabbatical.  So, I've chosen to sit outside or take a walk outside each day.  Our new apartment has a wonderful patio overlooking a wooded park so I often just sit on the patio and watch the birds in the trees and LISTEN to the sounds.  At our house, I had bushes close to windows with bird feeders to enjoy the birds, but here, the birds are too far away.  Some, like the swifts, turkey vultures and hawks are identifiable by their flight patterns or silhouettes.  But, most of the birds. . . . .just birds.  I went a whole month at the apartment before I even saw a cardinal which I could see at our house daily.

I recently discovered my Merlin bird ID app has a "Sound ID".  So, the other day I heard a very cheerful bird, hit the record button and discovered it was a vireo warbler.  As I was taking a walk yesterday after a rainy day, I heard a lot of "joyful noise".  I got my phone out hit the record button and in one minute, recorded Brown Thrasher, Downy Woodpecker, House Sparrow, European Starling, Tufted Titmouse, Northern Mockingbird.

I am now even able to identify the European Starling by its call: sounds like an asthmatic raspy old man. Just now while writing this (in under a minute:) European Starling, House Sparrow, Brown headed Cowbird, American Robin, Carolina Wren and Rose-breasted Grosbeak. I'm not going to say this is as satisfactory as seeing them at my window, but I am developing my listening skill. I think I can identify a cardinal now too. The app highlights the sound it is currently recording and there's a visual pattern at the top of the screen.

One of my English cousins just told me that she uses that app too which certainly explains why Merlin says "American Robin" since the robins in England have a red breast but otherwise are more the size of our Bluebirds. Another friend said she loves the app when visiting somewhere to help her identify birds she's unfamiliar with in a new setting.

Photo by Mark Paton on Unsplash

Battles

Like a knight going to battle,

Each piece to protect me from the enemy,

Each piece to equip me for the fight.

Teeth in.

Hearing aids in.

Glasses on.

Bandage on knee.

Mask on.

I am ready for my day.

I am ready for my life.

Photo by Artur Tumasjan on Unsplash

Hearing Louise

"I’m wearing pastels, now—my skin tones have changed."

"I’m feeling a little weak this morning."

"I hold on when going up and down the stairs."

"My mouth is just so dry."

"I watch what I eat, but I’m being tested for diabetes."

"If my knee didn’t hurt, I’d exercise more."

"I want to hear my granddaughters’ voices again."

"Your dad isn’t strong enough for her graduation."

"Your dad is sleeping a lot."

"Don’t worry about Mother’s Day—you’re a mother, too.."

Words meant to inform me that they were getting older, 

      but now remind me of my own aging.

Words spoken one on one,
     not at a family gathering

Words said in face to face conversation, 

     not in a text.

Words I thought were to re-assure me,

    but were they cries for help?

Winter Solstice

Candle light

Twinkle lights

Fire light

Street lights

Moon light

All bring hope, promise,

And direction in the dark.

Without the darkness,
During the day,
Those lights are dimmed--
Seldom seen
Rarely followed.

I’m not afraid of the dark
With those dots of light

Always coaxing me on.
I celebrate the dark and light,
Walking hand in hand.

He is the light that keeps me

Moving forward on our darkest day,

In the dark days of life.
Walking . . .his hand in my hand,
Urging me on.

A Battered Ship

A ship battered 

By the winds, the waves.

The sails tattered,

The leaking holes plugged,

Limping into the harbor.

Slow!

The captain steers the ship from the rocks,

Finds the port: a path to peace.

And repairs, restores, revives.

Will a new sail make it sea-worthy

When it still may be leaking?

Fresh paint may just mask the damage.

The ship wants to sail again, but the waves, the wind:

Prays that it can again be seaworthy,

Strong enough to withstand new storms.

Or should it just safely wait in the harbor

Until the time to be scrapped—

Recycled into a new life.

Go! 

Head for another adventure!

Quietly rotting is not an option.

Check for leaks along the way——

Be mindful of the storms,

But sailing!

Super Grandma

Hair crinkling in my ears,

Clothes rustling when I move,

Floor squeaks with every step.

Heightened reality from drugs? 

Refrigerator door creaking open,

Microwave barking that it’s ready,

Furniture squeaking when I sit and

My computer clickety-clacking while I type.

Poltergeists?

No. . .hearing aids. . . . 

Able to understand a cell phone call 

without putting it on speaker.

Able to understand Libby telling me about her friend

without having to read her lips.

Able to understand British mysteries

without having closed captions.

New super powers!

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Fading

Fading…

Fading…

Like jeans becoming softer, paler, less rigid with age.

Fading…

Like the sky at sunset  with that brief burst of color before darkness.

Fading…

Like the peppermint taste lingering after the candy is gone.

Fading…

Like the scent of cinnamon rolls as I scurry by the bakery.

Fading. . . 

Like a fire’s blazing fury becoming the soft warm glow of embers.

Fading…

Like the words in a book swimming across a page without my glasses.

Fading…

Like the sound of laughter; when the words aren’t clear but the joy is still heard.

              .

Fading…

Like technicolor memories of loved ones turning into fuzzy, black and white snapshots.

Fading…

Like the dance steps in Zumba becoming the slow rhythmic steps of a “Senior” class.

Fading…

Like a movie changing scenes from a dance party to the ocean in moonlight.

Fading…

Like a plane taking off with passengers ready for adventure.

Fading into a new adventure: soft, sweet, warm, joyful, but a slower rhythm.

Breathe in, Breathe out

My tooth is being pulled today.

So many lost teeth.

Breathe in.

6 years old

A brief tug from my grandpa.

A popsicle and

A quarter from the tooth fairy:

Reward replaced anxiety.

Breathe out.

14 years old

Four teeth pulled for braces:

Sitting in a reclining chair at a dental school.

Dental student sweated, grumbled, tugged.

Panic in his eyes.

Did he know what he was doing?

Breathe in.

20 years old

Four impacted wisdom teeth:

Chipped and chiseled and broken,

Pulled out piece by piece.

Sitting in a  dental chair with tubes in my mouth.

Family dentist sweated, needed a break.

I went home but. .. 

Still bleeding 3 days later.

Gums packed and re-packed.

Breathe out.

73 years old.

A tooth worn out and broken.

Memories of past extractions

Heighten anxieties,

Emotions tumbling out.

Tooth is worn out. . .I’m worn out.

Age and anxiety, chipping away at me piece by piece:

Tonsils, gall bladder, ovaries, appendix.

Soon a ninth tooth.

Breathe out.

Sitting in a dental chair,

Blood pressure is too high.

The oral surgeon comes in with a smile

Dismissing my concerns with 

“That was 50 years ago!”

“How about some laughing gas?”

I can use a smile, a laugh, a buzz.

“Take deep breaths.  

Breathe in. 

Breathe out.”

Reward replaces anxiety.