A series of essays….
 |
OUR SYCAMORE TREE REMINDS ME OF THE PLANE TREES LINING THE SMALLER ROADWAYS AND VILLAGES OF FRANCE; TALL, STRAIGHT, AND MAJESTIC! |
….as seen through my eyes!
By: Jacqueline E Hughes
Yes. Life is all about, at least it should be, watching two squirrels scramble down various rutted tree trunks and chase one another across the backyard. Taking the few seconds of time out from a busy morning to take this all in seems to be the biggest challenge for most of us.
Even at my age, my mind is filled with ‘to do’ lists, schedules, and Zoom meetings. Heck, by the time those furry-tailed tree rodents scratch their way down to terra firma and make a run for it, I’ve begun my morning schedule of daydreaming, imagining different scenarios, plotting, all while attempting to put these thoughts into coherent and interesting sentences.
Now that many people are easing out of the pandemic that has taken over our lives for the last several years, tiny stirrings of what I presume to be normalcy erupt inside me. I am encouraged by this. But, even as we begin sticking our toes into the nearly forgotten waters, we are chilled to the bone given all of the uncertainty about life that has to be dealt with if we desire to, actually, take the final plunge.
Even though the room I write in can change on any given day (as we continue the work on improving our little cottage), I have felt comfortable within the scope of my working existence for over two years and have found solace in the act of creating my stories to share with others. I humbly thank you, my dear readers, for allowing me time to get my head together before continuing my journey along this inspired path.
Each morning becomes a new adventure; each adventure brings new promises, often based upon my life, growing-up, and existing in a world of my own particular circumstances. It’s rather cozy here in my own skin. This is where I feel safe every morning—no matter which room I happen to be in or what the news has to offer.
It’s fairly certain, especially at my age, that the dark hand of death would be gripping my wrist and pulling me into the reality of one of life’s greatest promises: all living things will, eventually, pass on and we should be grateful for the time we have on this earth. We must make the most of it and improve with age like a fine wine or a brilliant French cheese! Many of us concentrate our best efforts at productive thinking towards the end of our lives and, I don’t believe this is, necessarily, the wrong thing to do.
Slipping into a comfy groove, routine, after years of further education, employment, having and raising children, having these children marry and begin families of their own—feels very satisfying to me. Grandchildren have always been my priority and one reason for living in Michigan, today. Sadly, three grandchildren have become as illusive as a David Copperfield performance with our daughter preferring her parents to be magically transformed into a lengthy disappearance act. Life can be disappointing, irrational, and absolutely unpredictable no matter how hard one tries to do the right thing; work on making things right, once again. Sadly, this is another story for another time.
No one has a perfect life. There are too many things that impede it. As it’s been said before, life itself tends to get in the way of perfection. But, if we can concentrate on what feels good, what makes us happy, or what makes others happy, we might just have a chance to experience the closest we can come to perfection in this lifetime. This is why my writing, especially at this time in my life, has become exceedingly important to me. Putting into words my feelings and beliefs in story form gives me a reason to exist; a purpose for spending time interacting with others and visiting unknown places in order to find others who believe in these same things.
My heart goes out to all of the families who have unconventionally lost someone they love so dearly! We can, almost, come to terms with the fact that decease takes lives away from us on a daily basis. Aging is a process by which our bodies begin to deteriorate and leave us at their mercy. However, to witness our youth being deprived of their future and the promising possibilities of hope, is beyond comprehension.
Within the past few weeks, I have had several relatives pass on. Children of friends have succumbed to cancer. Innocent grandparents and even a father purchasing a birthday cake for his son have been lost due to gun violence. Students and their teachers have been taken from their families because someone brandished a weapon of mass destruction and shot twenty-one innocent souls in a Texas elementary school. While the families grieve for their loss, authorities who won’t accept responsibility run and hide; spoiled adults being enabled by their peers who hold offices of importance within the very same community. No backbone. No shame.
This past Sunday, a good friend in her eighty’s left an open wound in the hearts of those who love her and must exist without her. May you Rest In Peace, my friend. The world has lost a very talented and beautiful lady!
It is difficult for me to take any of this lightly. It would take an extremely heartless person to do so.
Sitting back in my chair, once again, two squirrels, one black, one gray, repeat, with Indianapolis 500 speeds, their race to the bottom of the sycamore tree that lives outside of the window and has its roots under the surface of the ravine that exists alongside our house. And yet, our mighty sycamore tree stands straight and tall as it towers above most of the trees along the block.
What a long journey for my acorn loving neighbors to make on this lovely spring morning. With the gusto of fresh eyes and a willing disposition, the scene before me hatches over and over again as if it were Groundhog Day. Gladly taking a few seconds out of my busy morning, I savor the opportunity to witness nature’s little scramble along with its plethora of earthly colors and delights.
Copyright © 2022 by Jacqueline E Hughes
All rights reserved.
