I wished… I received

They say to be careful what you wish for. I’ve heard it a few times over the years. Recently, I got reminded of it because I wished, told someone in passing, and then I received. Here’s what happened.

As a teen, I remember going along to visit relatives of a relative. Back then, I saw certain things through rose coloured glasses. They lived in a place where the early afternoon drizzle kept the grass green and beautiful. On a little slope in their massive yard was a heavily laden star fruit tree. (Jimbilin is another name for it though that’s not how I used to spell or pronounce it. You may know it as carambola.) The yellow fruit was sweeter than the green tangy ones but that was my first experience with it and while I didn’t fully like it, the setting and five-point fruit marked my memory.

Star Fruit/Jimbilin

Recently, I was walking somewhere and minding my business. All right. I was admiring the flowers and trees in the yards I passed but I was still minding my business and smiling as I reflected on pleasant memories from childhood whenever I spotted familiar flowers or tall towering trees. That’s when I saw it. Nestled in a corner near the fence of a yard was a jimbilin tree with lots of ripe fruit. I remembered that tree in the relative’s yard and wished I could get some.

On returning home and recounting my adventures, I mentioned the tree and my wish for a few. Days passed and I forgot. After all, I’m more a fan of the memory than the actual fruits. Well, a few days ago, someone who knows not of my walk or wish visited with a bag full of the fruit. I’ve not had any and probably will not for why spoil a memory. It’s just sad though that I wished and received but have found myself content to ignore the fulfilment while the opportunity passes by. Next time, I’ll just have to be careful what I wish for.

Gratitude for my life as it is

We were standing in front of our house talking after it had become dark enough for even the faintest light to shine brightly. Nothing serious, just about running and getting in those kilometres on the app. They were explaining to me since I’m not a runner and then we talked about the safety of the places to run after dark or alone. One had seen a young bear, another felt a certain area was spooky and best avoided. Then, suddenly, all our phones sounded an alarm and we waited. When it began, the ground beneath my feet danced and swayed to an unheard rhythm. Someone, some distance away, screamed in fright I guess. It was not a lot of shaking but it felt weird to be outside and standing. I checked for anything nearby or above that might come falling down. All clear. Finished. Gratitude expressed.

In for the night, I began to think of yesterday when I had wanted to write my thoughts. They weren’t as fresh now but I could still try if this tiredness I feel allows. It didn’t, so now on this bright morning, while the occasional sounds of people moving about drift my way on a lazy breeze, I stop to write those thoughts. I’m reminded that I should write more regularly but some days I only say my thoughts the way I would write them then never take the time to actually put them down. But, gratitude for my thoughts. I’m blessed to have them.

My short trip to town completed I began the drive towards home. As I left the lights behind, the number of vehicles decreased. Few had their lights on as it was still light enough to still see without them. Mere minutes after leaving the town the beautiful verdant rice fields greeted me. There, hanging just above the plants was a light mist, barely visible in the evening light. Up above, the clouds danced in fading orange and grey delight across the sky painted in different shades of blue. Distractingly beautiful.

There are very few cars coming my way and my eyes are alert for any pedestrians out at this hour. The fields are empty. Farmers are already home likely gathered around the dinner table or preparing for it. I drive on up the winding mountain road trees on either side crowding in and blocking out some of the fading light. My own lights are on now and I let my thoughts flow. I see the lights of a house on the right partially hidden behind some trees. A feeling envelopes me as I drive pass. Immediately as I’m passing I feel an invitation that says one word: home. It leaves me and my thoughts turn to prayer.

I pray because in this minute I know that one day I’ll leave behind this mountain dotted with rice fields and flowers and the occasional animal scurrying across the road. I’ll leave the peace and quiet, spring rains and flowers, noisy cicadas, summer greenery, and this life in general. (It’s my first summer on this part of the mountain so autumn and winter are as yet unknown but having lived in the mountains before, I can imagine what I’m in for on top of one.) I’ve often said this is not my forever home and I know there is an actual expiration date but I prayed this moment and these experiences would stay with me; that I’d live them well and appreciate all I had been given.

I don’t know what waits for me in the future I cannot yet see clearly with my mind’s eyes but for today I want to live, do my best and express gratitude for everything especially my life as it is now.

For you

Misty morning

Flowers with dew

Hidden birds calling

Walking slowly to you

Dark night

Roads, holes with water

Staying awake is a fight

Roaring camp fire and laughter

Midday white

Powder piled high

Mittens and boots fit just right

Hot cocoa, down with a sigh

Cool winds

Colours on trees with a splash

Birds on branches flap their wings

Leaves descend without a crash

You were here

You went away

To me, you are a Dear

Still much to say

Growing stronger

Learning more each day

Wishing you were here longer

For wisdom and peace I pray

Happy birthday Grandma

For anyone who may read this and who may be dealing with the loss of a loved one, please know you’re not alone. You can still have hope and joy in your life. These things don’t fade. You can still have them and try each day to live your best life, to be the best version of yourself. Don’t beat on yourself for not being there, for starting to forget what your loved one looked like, or for anything else you’re beating on yourself for. Today is a beautiful day even if you can’t see it. Grieve. Go through your process the best way you know how. Whatever you do, don’t neglect yourself. You are here for a reason. Be thankful, show gratitude, love yourself, and be your best you.

Untitled

Meant to be there

Supposed to care

Old enough to know better

No need for a trend setter

Wiser decisions and you’d be with me

Time ticks on, can’t go back

Warm tears bitter, a mask for the pain

Wishes aborted, hope in vain

Sometimes there, must have cared

Mentally immature, too old for a cure

Childishly selfish, expecting too much

Forgive and forget, warm tears for supper

Foolish it’s true, the heart still wishes

Hugs and smiles, things being different

Dream on dear child, weary after miles

Too sad to be happy

Meant to be there

Supposed to care

Learnt to live with a hole

Warm tears for supper

Learning and my visit to the doc

I can be clumsy some days. Well, not all of the day but rather just a few seconds – which is enough time to cause damage. I think I’ve been a little accident prone for years and have the scars to prove it. Trips to the doctor, weeks of ointment covered legs, having to wear slippers instead of shoes, enduring sympathetic sentiments, and playing tag with my self esteem are all reminders. I’m not beating on myself so that’s not what this is about. It’s more about the experiences and possible lessons I’ve learned along the way as a result of these moments.

A lesson example would be to avoid ants of the vicious variety. I really don’t recall precisely where or when I had my meeting with the ants but I definitely remember it did not go well. They were irate over the heavy intrusion of my preteen feet. Now I’m not saying I was in any way overweight. No one who knew me then would believe that. In fact, I got called a few interesting – but at the time hurtful – names due to my size. Even recently, my size was the topic of a few conversations.

Here I run the risk of mixing stories as two want to come out at once and neither is the reason I even began writing today. The ants story ended with penicillin, a few missed days of school, scars, and of course this story to tell. One of the recent conversations regarding my body size didn’t even include me really. It was between two nurses in a language I’m still new to, while they were taking blood samples during a routine health check. Last time I did this I left with three places they injected trying to find enough blood. This time I left with only two and their reasoning that it was because I was “so slender”. Right.

So now, back to lessons. It’s better to be prepared with tape for wrapping swollen limbs, antibiotic cream for scrapes or scratches, and bandaids. Those usually are in a little kit for whenever I’m taking trips. For today though, tape alone was fine. I finally visited a clinic over three months after my toe collided with the metal bed foot on a morning I was rushing to get things done before leaving for work. I had overstayed my time in bed and was trying to make the remaining time work. Well, the X-ray showed no fractures, thank God. The doctor asked me for the tape I’d brought and wrapped my two toes for support I guess then asked if I wanted medicine.

I left with no medicine because I told him “I don’t know”. I’m not big on medicines nor on pain and I’m not the greatest fan of doctors. They can see more of me than I’m comfortable with or even knew existed and they can give me any medicine they want to. All that said, today was probably one of my most interesting visits to a doctor. He also told me to wear bigger shoes. I am laughing, probably too much. The lesson, well, visiting the doctor can be hilarious. Let’s hope I still think so when I see the next one.

I wrote it for you Grandma

You were here

I thought you’d always be

Chiding, reminding, guiding, pushing

Tall as the trees you stood for me

No nonsense, quick thinking, matriarch

Helpful to all

Encourager, evangelist, disciplinarian

Took on the world with just your hands

None visited left empty – spirit or hands

You always said to God the praise belongs

“Happy Mother’s Day” I told you

“Wish I could say the same” you told me

I left it there, no more to say

We both know you raised me the right way

It’s here again in two days

Time will heal

True but not always so

Glimpses of you once tall and brave

Slowly disappear into sunset fade

Thousands of miles between us both

A message, my voice perhaps the last you heard

You’re all better with your Lord and mine

Resting, praising, basking in the glory

No more pain or tearful worries

Peace be mine and hope

Time heals

I’m all right

Living how you showed me

Praying for the light

Peaceful night, and Happy Mother’s Day