Not out of Sorrow, but in Wonder

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Hello, My Friend …

I have always thought of myself as someone who can handle change. My house never looks exactly the same from season to season, I (mostly) took the end of “Downton Abbey” in stride, and I have learned to let people go when they want to go. I ordered myself a 4-pack of reading glasses when I turned 45 and wear them without complaint. It’s all part of life, I know.

 

My son is as tall as I am … okay. My grandma and grandpa’s lovely old house was torn down and replaced … I can accept that. Grandma Betty is gone and I may never be able to accurately recreate her beautiful kolachkes … sigh … but I’ll allow it.

 

Change is familiar enough, and usually manageable; the problem lately is its volume and speed. Have you ever played Tetris? It’s a video game I used to be obsessed with. Different-shaped blocks fall from the top of your screen and you have to fit them together to form solid rows. When you make a row, it disappears. If you let the pieces pile up to the top, you lose and the longer you play, the faster the pieces fall. The faster they fall, the harder it gets to fit them together.

 

Do you ever feel like that? Like the older you get, the harder it is to fit all the pieces of your life together quickly enough that they don’t pile up on you? I feel like that. Also, the falling pieces are odd shapes these days: my dad’s old Christmas tree with the bubble lights and the wooden Christopher Robin ornament; the upright piano my mom used to play while she sang to me; my grandpa’s red Ford F150, which he would drive three blocks to church just to show off; the dining table where my mom hosted decades of Thanksgiving and Christmas dinners. None of those pieces fit together and I don’t want them to disappear, but they have, and fast.

 

I sound maudlin …I don’t mean to. Read this:

 

ENCOUNTER
Czeslaw Milosz

We were riding through frozen fields in a wagon at dawn.
A red wing rose in the darkness.

And suddenly a hare ran across the road.
One of us pointed to it with his hand.

That was long ago. Today neither of them is alive,
Not the hare, nor the man who made the gesture.

O my love, where are they, where are they going
The flash of a hand, streak of movement, rustle of pebbles.
I ask not out of sorrow, but in wonder.

 

“Not out of sorrow, but in wonder.”
Yes, that’s it.

 

I am going to take a couple of weeks off for Christmas and the New Year, but I’ll be thinking of you as always. Be well, my friend. I wish for the moving pieces in your life to slow down a bit in the coming days. I wish you meaningful celebrations with the people who fill you up the most.

 

It doesn’t matter to me what you celebrate … whatever it is, I hope it’s delicious.

In love and solidarity,
Marta

8 thoughts on “Not out of Sorrow, but in Wonder

  1. You are the best writer in the whole wide world.
    Your words, strung together like lights on a tree, sparkle, comfort, and cheer the lucky reader. Enjoy your respite! You are a Santa Claus of sorts and deserve some time to just stroll the North Pole without even thinking about filling the toy sack with treasure.

    Liked by 1 person

  2. Marta once again, thank you. My grandparents had bubble lights as well and we would look forward to seeing them EVERY Christmas. It was pure joy. Wow do I long for the simplicity of bubble lights!! Haha!!! Have a joyous holiday my friend.
    Love, Kathy

    Liked by 1 person

  3. Marta! I do agree there is wonder all around, but you do have to work around plenty of sorrow to behold it. I usually find mine somewhere in the woods or even my small back yard, those are the easy places. It was there in the nursing home though. Once we observed a “hen party” of well dressed residents in the dementia side of the assisted living facility my mom was in. The group of four or five ladies were calmly and rationally discussing, over coffee, where they planned to stay that night. As we eavesdropped our way by it seemed the consensus was it would be best to spend the night there.
    As for pieces of life coming too fast. I held out on that four pack of reading glasses until this last summer at 53! I’ve lost them all already. Once again you hit the nail on the head. I just don’t know why you had to pick a Russian video game! Savor these next few weeks, they won’t taste the same next year. Jim.

    Liked by 1 person

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