"GRAPE-NUTS & CLOTHESLINES"
As the heat of the morning descends on Cape Sable Island & the overnight guests at my Bed & Breakfast leave, I savour the quiet & solitude of living alone by the sea.
The colorful lobster boats have all sailed off into the wide open waters for one of their last days of the season. Soon, they will dock until November when the law once again permits them to fish & trap the briny creatures we all love to eat.
But my mind is on my 1st cousin's wife, who is facing the end of her journey here on earth. The ugly C word has once again reared its ugly head in our extended family. At just 61 years of age, it appears she is leaving us and her small grandchild behind, through no choice of her own or blame on her part. "It" selected her as its next victim but surely not its last.
As I sit alone in my sunny kitchen eating a bowl of whole-wheat grape-nut cereal with Splenda instead of sugar and 1% milk, I gaze out to sea and remember Helen. How I wish I had known her better but neither of us took the time or made the effort. Now, it's too late. Living far away for so many years has its negatives but was a choice I made long ago.
The washer stops, alerting me it's time to hang out a load of winter sheets which will not appear on the beds until November. Seasons seem to dictate our comings and goings, our rise and falls, our highs and lows. The clothesline squeeks as I pin the wash on the line while gazing out on the beautiful water. I know I'm lucky to live here, to breathe the salt air, to enjoy a hot cup of Sunday morning coffee with my newspaper.
Because it's the SIMPLE things in life I know Helen would trade places with me for. It's not the traveling, the shopping, the media, the gossip, the keeping-up-with-the-Jones.......it's having grape-nuts and clotheslines, fog and sunshine, ducks and seagulls, coffee with cream.
Birth is a wonderful, momentous occasion where we, as infants, are welcomed with tears of joy. Parties, gifts, showers and plenty of love await us. I like to think death offers us no less. It would be awesome to discover that once we die, we will be greeted by people we loved who preceeded us in death, that there will be a grand party with much attention and reward for our labour. I wish this for Helen if and when she dies.
The grape-nuts are now inside my belly, the laundry hangs outside on the clothesline on this beautiful May morning; the sun is making the high tide look like diamonds glistening on the waves. A lonely seagull sits patiently on the biggest rock in my back yard before flying away to parts unknown.
Until it's my turn to fly away too, to parts unknown, I will continue to believe in Heaven for surely, God would not desert us after all this suffering as He knows first-hand what that's like. As I pray for Helen today, I pray for a miracle but if there isn't one, I ask Him to hold out His hand to welcome her re-birth.
As the heat of the morning descends on Cape Sable Island & the overnight guests at my Bed & Breakfast leave, I savour the quiet & solitude of living alone by the sea.
The colorful lobster boats have all sailed off into the wide open waters for one of their last days of the season. Soon, they will dock until November when the law once again permits them to fish & trap the briny creatures we all love to eat.
But my mind is on my 1st cousin's wife, who is facing the end of her journey here on earth. The ugly C word has once again reared its ugly head in our extended family. At just 61 years of age, it appears she is leaving us and her small grandchild behind, through no choice of her own or blame on her part. "It" selected her as its next victim but surely not its last.
As I sit alone in my sunny kitchen eating a bowl of whole-wheat grape-nut cereal with Splenda instead of sugar and 1% milk, I gaze out to sea and remember Helen. How I wish I had known her better but neither of us took the time or made the effort. Now, it's too late. Living far away for so many years has its negatives but was a choice I made long ago.
The washer stops, alerting me it's time to hang out a load of winter sheets which will not appear on the beds until November. Seasons seem to dictate our comings and goings, our rise and falls, our highs and lows. The clothesline squeeks as I pin the wash on the line while gazing out on the beautiful water. I know I'm lucky to live here, to breathe the salt air, to enjoy a hot cup of Sunday morning coffee with my newspaper.
Because it's the SIMPLE things in life I know Helen would trade places with me for. It's not the traveling, the shopping, the media, the gossip, the keeping-up-with-the-Jones.......it's having grape-nuts and clotheslines, fog and sunshine, ducks and seagulls, coffee with cream.
Birth is a wonderful, momentous occasion where we, as infants, are welcomed with tears of joy. Parties, gifts, showers and plenty of love await us. I like to think death offers us no less. It would be awesome to discover that once we die, we will be greeted by people we loved who preceeded us in death, that there will be a grand party with much attention and reward for our labour. I wish this for Helen if and when she dies.
The grape-nuts are now inside my belly, the laundry hangs outside on the clothesline on this beautiful May morning; the sun is making the high tide look like diamonds glistening on the waves. A lonely seagull sits patiently on the biggest rock in my back yard before flying away to parts unknown.
Until it's my turn to fly away too, to parts unknown, I will continue to believe in Heaven for surely, God would not desert us after all this suffering as He knows first-hand what that's like. As I pray for Helen today, I pray for a miracle but if there isn't one, I ask Him to hold out His hand to welcome her re-birth.
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