Welcome Autumn

One afternoon last week I sat in the green porch swing, peeling and slicing pears that my husband had collected from his brother’s orchard.  Their sweet, spicy smell filled the air as the juicy fruit plopped into the large mixing bowl in my lap.  The last few days of summer promised to be sunny, and warm, and brief.

A big, fat bee buzzed around the box of pears as I slowly pushed the swing back and forth.  It was a delightfully quiet moment; my mind drifted back to projects like this, watching my Grandmother on hot summer days in Kentucky.  At this time of year her kitchen counters were filled with canning jars of green beans, jelly, green tomato relish and beets.  Conversation revolved around how many ‘quarts’ she had managed to wring from the baskets of produce.  Telephone lines buzzed with women just like her who discussed how pretty their cans were; their own self-worth somehow wrapped up in the amount of food they put in the root cellar for the coming winter.  My contribution as a child to such work was minimal, but my memory of those days proves I was paying more attention than even I knew. 

The pears, now peeled and sliced and sugared, filled four containers for the freezer.  A taste of summer in a cobbler or pie or muffin will be welcome as the soon-to-come cold winter marches through our landscape.  My little project left me with a feeling of accomplishment. There is satisfaction in completing a task, so often in life it seems nothing is ever really finished.

Back in the porch swing I looked out over the green back yard, watching blue jays gather at the base of my blue bottle tree.  Does the sun glinting on the color of their own feathers attract them?  I wonder….

Sitting there, I poured tea from a bottle over a glass of ice.  The level of the tea rose slowly, covering the ice and approaching the rim of the glass.  Slowly, deliberately, I filled it until the level in the glass reached the level of the quiet feeling I enjoyed.

It occurs to me that contentment does not come in a quick-filling rush, but the slow and quiet trickle that happens over the years.  The fall is a lovely time of year, and a lovely time of life.   My glass is full.

 

Three Little Words

                                                           

                                                             



                                                           

There are three words that, when used together, change everything.   If you think you know which three they are you’d be wrong.   It’s not “I love you”….although those certainly are life changing words.  It isn’t the cheery “please come again” cashiers chirp as you exit a store.   It’s not even the three words that strike fear in every heart, “some assembly required”.  These three words are the real game changers…they are ”the last time”.

The last time is a phrase that carries varying degrees of distress with it.  “The last time I saw my car keys”….uh-oh.  “When was the last time you made a payment?…..hmmm. “I remember the last time your mother stayed for a week”…..oh, yeah.  String them together and these words cause us to turn around and look back.  It's a sneaky phrase, and the worst part is that you often don’t know it’s the last time when it’s in progress.

 

For me 2014 has seen the loss of some very dear and very long time friends.  A couple of the losses were shocking…a couple expected….none was welcome.   As we confront the finality of death we are also left to deal with “the last time”. 

The last time I saw my friend Linda was last February. Larry and I were returning from spending a month in Florida and, just as we had the year before, we stopped in to visit on our way through her town.  We spent a couple of hours together, laughing and remembering old times.  I shared with her my most vivid memory of her when we were young.  I imagine we might have been twelve or thirteen, gathered around one of the many bon fires I was lucky enough to enjoy in her back yard.  We toasted marshmallows on long, sharpened sticks and she sang a Beetles song, “Give me Money” as the fires light played across our faces.  She smiled at the memory, surprised I even remembered those bon fires on the long ago fall evenings.  As I hugged her goodbye I didn’t realize it was for the last time.

My friend Chris and I met two others for dinner once a month to catch up on what was going on in each of our lives.   We grew up together in the old neighborhood, went to school together and stayed in touch for more years than I like to admit.  At dinner she talked about her coming trip to Arizona, it would be a welcome break from the frigid Ohio winter, and we would all catch up with one another in the spring.  We all hugged and raced off into the cold winter evening. It was the last time I ever saw her…if only I had known I’d have taken more time, soaked up more memories.

Going through my Face Book friends list the other evening I realized there several who are now gone.  People with whom I’ve worked over the years…high school classmates…close friends and relatives…gone.  With each one I had a “last time” encounter, even if it was an instant message.  Not even once did I recognize it might be the very last time I saw or connected with this person.

Thirteen years ago today approximately three thousand Americans did not know it would be the last time they saw their family or loved ones.  As those people poured into the towers for what seemed like just another work day, they had no idea their names would go down in history as one of the victims of a heinous act of terrorism.   The scenes of those planes striking the buildings, of people fleeing for their lives as brave police and firemen running toward the chaos, will be with me the rest of my life.  If we learned anything at all from the tragedy it might just be to always be mindful of “the last time”

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Pray for our country, hold your loved ones close, and celebrate your friendships so that when “the last time” comes you will have left nothing unsaid.

                                                        Remember 9/11/200l