WriteRN Ramblings

From the time of my birth, we moved every 1-3 years. 

I was a child with a country, but without a home. 

Today they call children like me military dependents – back then we were called military brats. 

This was my life – it was all I ever knew. 

We spent most of my childhood living on base. The houses were older and nondescript- nothing like the lovely homes they are building on base for today’s military warriors and their families. 

When I was ten, we moved to the Philippines, leaving our cat and the only dog we ever had behind. The quarantine requirements for the animals were too cruel to bring them along. 

I loved the Philippines, and traveled all over the islands with my school and youth group. It was here I got my love for international travel. 

I also learned how tremendously blessed we were, coming from a first world country. The abject poverty in the Philippines was shocking, and heart rending. 

When we returned stateside, I literally bent down and kissed the tarmac as soon after I descended the wobbly metal stairs. 

I have never taken for granted  being blessed to be an American. Any time I hear our national anthem, tears are in my eyes. I remember. 

Soon I was back in the routine of frequent moves. 

When I was a sophomore in high school, we moved to the Wasatch front, and I was able to complete my high school years all in the same school.

I had lived in this area as a very small child, and I loved the mountains. Returning, I found that my love had grown, and that this was definitely somewhere that I could spend the rest of my life. Some of my happiest memories are from that state. 

After a few more moves, I ended up in Florida. It’s a state. I never planned to move to, and have never been truly happy in. The Gulf is beautiful, rimmed by soft sugar white sands. But for a lot of the year, it is unbearably hot and humid. There are all kinds of bugs and flying insects and things that bite you. Worst of all are the hurricanes. Five months of the year is hurricane season, and you’re on edge the entire time.

After marrying my husband, he would take me up to his family‘s farm. I absolutely loved it! The peace. The quiet. There was no city noise. The noise was the rustling of the grasses. Insects murmuring. Distant coyotes. 

It smelled wonderful. Freshly turned dirt. Wildflowers. Clean air! 

As the sun set, we would watch the fireflies. Down in suburbia, they have been wiped out by lawn care business chemicals. 

It was then then I realized that I wanted to live in the country. 

I’m a country girl – I hate country music, I’m talking about a love for our country. For the beauty of houses that are miles from the next home. Gardens that are an acre large. Not having to buy heirloom roses because they grow in your yard. Peonies. Lilacs. This is where I want to live! 

You can find country spots in most of our nation – but I know that wherever we settle when we retire, this is where I wanna be. In the country. 

It’s a respite for me. I want a place where I can plant my roots deep, and our children can come and visit, bringing our grandchildren. 

I want the stability of having a forever home – even though it’s taking me most of my life to find it. 

It gives me great peace to know that I will be living in the country someday soon, and our children and grandchildren will be able to be excited to come and visit us, and make country memories that will last forever in their minds as well.

I’m making my plans now – plans that include homemade quilts. A rocking chair or two on the porch. Adirondack chairs that face the river.

It’s a future I can’t wait to meet. 

I read my planner wrong 

Arrived at the wrong place, wrong time 

So I drove aimlessly until I had a goal – 

Breakfast for one

Waiting at a light

I spot vivid purple morning glory 

Flashing through tangled kudzu –

Glorious, indeed

Then a handful of butterflies

Orange in the morning sun 

Began a gamble throughout 

Delighting me deeply 

I messed up my start 

Yet it became a thing of beauty – 

A few minutes in a car 

Led me to smiles and memories. 

Statistically, I passed middle age 18 years ago. 

Genetics has blessed me with a face and attitude that bely my age. 

The choice of career that I made, however, has taken a toll on my physical body. The combination of that along with genetics has wreaked havoc upon me.

Over 25 years of nursing hurts. Cement floors. Inadequate shoes. Kneeling down or bending over when I should’ve brought things up to my level. Moving and lifting patients that were way too heavy for my abilities. All of these things contributed to what I’m dealing with now.

I’m riddled with arthritis, especially in the joints that have served me during inpatient care – my hands, my shoulders, and most evidently in my knees. 

I’m doing my best to recover from surgery. I want to protect the left knee – that may mean not working as a registered nurse any more.

Thirty four days ago I had a total knee replacement. My orthopedist kept telling me how young I was, even as he told me I had stage four arthritis in my right knee… And the left was not far behind.

It’s a lot to take in. 

I’m enjoying my front porch hideout while I can.

We are having unseasonably cooler weather – and by cooler I mean instead of 90% humidity it’s 80% humidity.

It’s 84° but it feels like 97° – in the sun.

But in the shade of my porch with the breeze blowing gently, it’s tolerable.

Because it’s morning still, I haven’t been bothered by any Noseeum’s or mosquitoes… that I know of.

Soon enough, my time on the porch will be very limited, because the bugs in the heat will be unbearable.

But today, I’m hidden behind the hedges. The tree branches bow down and protect me from the top. The fern jumps in to add more coverage.

My sweet little Australian Shepherd sits next to me, watching for squirrels.

I’m watching the trees sway. Listening to the cicadas as they fire up and then settle back down. I try to identify bird song as I watch them fly from bush to tree and back.

If peace could come by osmosis, I would be calm as calm can be.

It’s worth a shot at least.

The Rose of Sharon

Waited all spring

To gently unfurl its powder pink blooms

The fatal blows

Took her cover off

And her budding blossoms fell

So she gathered herself

And pushed out to the side

Blooming for all to see

The coral wave roses

Bloomed with gusto

To by bowed low by heavy rain

Then they were seen

Just as they were, dejected

And lifted up so they could be known

The hydrangea blossoms

Heavy and huge on strong branches

Were anonymous in the foliage

Then they were unwoven

Untangled from the darkening shadows

And placed with others in the light.

At least two years ago, one of my diamond earrings flew out of my ear.

I know that this happened in my house, I know it happened in my bedroom en suite, and I knew it was there somewhere.

Despite the screw on backs on the earrings,taking towels off my wet hair has pulled earrings out in the past. The first lesson I learned is I need to take them out at night and put them in the jewelry case.

This pair of diamond earrings is extremely precious to me because my husband got them for me – I kept them in my ears all the time. So this loss was devastating. But I knew it was here somewhere!

I do distinctly remember finding the earring and it’s circular diamond halo, and putting it in a safe place.

Because I am also a certain age, I forgot where that safe place was.

For at least two years, I have been looking for this diamond stud and halo.

My husband was understandably skeptical that I knew where it was. My ADHD has me all over the place. I had a distinct memory of putting the diamond somewhere more safe! He would nod at me reassuringly, at the same time giving me the “uh huh” look, each time I told him the story.

I have grieved this for these years. Not for the value of the diamonds, but the value of what they meant to me, as a precious thoughtful gift from my husband.

This morning, I had a doctors appointment. It was cash only because their credit card machine is broken, so I picked up the money on the way to the office, and slid it into my wallet.

I never carry cash. And if I do, I usually just put it in my pants pocket.

When I got to the office and checked in, Jennifer asked me for my co-pay. I opened my wallet and pulled out the co-pay – and there was the diamond and it’s halo.

I couldn’t believe it. Near tears, I explained the story to Jennifer.I could not wait to get home and put both diamonds in my ears again after so long!

I had another stop to make. On the way, I heard a still, soft voice tell me to put the earring in my ear. I heard it again, but I didn’t listen. I was dead set on getting to my next location.

After that stop, I started driving home and reached into my wallet to get the earring so I could place it in my ear.

It wasn’t there! I started frantically searching through my wallet, finally pulling over any parking lot so that I could really go through the wallet. It’s a fabric wallet, and I went over every inch of it and the diamond earring wasn’t there. Nor was the halo. I dumped out my purse on the side that the wallet was – nothing! 

I called Jennifer back and asked her if she had seen the earring – I noticed that there was a small hole in my wallet that was made when the wallet was unzipped, just enough space for the diamond earring to get through. She searched the office and the counter, and was not able to find it.

Then I went back to the other appointment location I was at, and had the same results. No diamond or halo.

By now I’m crying, and praying, and asking God to forgive me for not listening when he told me so clearly to put the earring in my ear. If I had done it when he told me to, it wouldn’t have gotten lost.

When I got home, I put the wallet on the counter, and I began to remove all of the items in it so that I could cut it apart in the search for my jewelry.

I realized I left my phone in the car, so I went back to the car and decided  I would look for the diamond earring while I was there.

And right there on the seat, in the seam underneath where I was sitting, glimmered my diamond earring and halo. I immediately went in the house and found its mate, and put both earrings and halos into my ears.

Still sobbing, I called my husband and said listen to this whole story before you say anything. So I told him the entire saga, start to finish. He was just as happy as I was that the diamond earring was found at last!

The really cool thing about this is on the one year anniversary of my being cancer free, my husband bought me a pink diamond pendant with a diamond halo around it.

The earrings just happened to match perfectly.

As usual, God was way ahead of me on this.

Lesson learned.

It’s 03:19.

I’ve been waking regularly for the the last four hours, each time with a dream clinging to me and trying to suck me back down into its confusing miasma.

It’s my hot flashes driving this, my disoriented mind surmises. The chemical brew that forced me into instant menopause has put the hot flash hot light on nearly constantly some nights.

So it is tonight.

As a result, my dreams are vivid.

In them, I’m back I’m Utah, the place I consider home.

I’m concerned about my dear friends. Someone is very unwell. Something bad is happening.

I wake again, confused, concerned, and prayerful at the same time.

I moved every one to three years as a military child. I lived in Utah as a small child, and in high school when I returned there, I vowed never to leave.

After several fits at starts of moving and returning, I finally did leave for good. I haven’t lived there for over thirty years.

I moved to sea level ultimately, but Utah is my heart.

So are my dear friends from there.

In Utah, in high school, I made some true lifelong friends. Starting at age 14 through my extra stay when I was 19, I made deep friendships.

It’s a handful of people who I love and miss tremendously. I wasn’t a popular girl, but I was seeking friendship – and found it in these young women and men.

We stay in touch through occasional calls, texts, and messages. We have the kind of friendship where we can pick up where we left off, even after all these years. Now we talk about gardens and grandkids.

Tonight’s dreams were uncomfortable, though. Born of my intermittent feverishly hot thrashing, real worry for them was the theme that kept troubling me.

Finally I’ve given up on sleep -for now. I’m reading a novel I’ve read at least three times – there is comfort in coming home to a familiar book.

Maybe it’s a sign I need to make a trip home, taking my husband so see the places and people that are so embedded in my heart.

And my bestie, Mo, can fly in from the Midwest where she landed to expand her family, also far from her home in Utah.

Yes. I think it’s time.

It will be a balm for my lonely soul.

We are spending day one a long holiday weekend looking for peace.

We are at a state park, one with some of the most secluded waterways and forest preserves in the state.

We have our chairs under the Cyprus trees, and my bum knee leg is propped on one of the Cyprus knobs.

Sounds picturesque, right?

Not so much.

In front of us, a 20 something couple are pushing their floats right in front of us. Their radio goes on, and they turn up the volume as they suck on their respective vapes.

Feet away, their toddler in swimmers is shouting “help”. No glance is given toward her. Finally, the girl wiggles her way over to her mom, who shoves her away with force, causing high pitched screams from the girl.

Behind us, someone else fires up their speaker.

We haven’t spoken a word.

We are watching the cormorants dive for long periods, popping up somewhere else like a surprise.

We are appreciating the sun as it sifts through the feather like leaves on the Cyprus.

We smile as a swallowtail meanders past, dipping up and down and around, until it is out of view.

The majority of people here are silently enjoying this natural respite.

One the loud interlopers finally move from the only flat access to the spring fed water, we carefully pick our way out to cold, clear water.

We stand near the shore and look at the grasses swaying, tiny fish cutting in out of the ribbons of grass.

We return to our chairs with icy legs and peaceful souls.

We love this park. This place.

It’s the people that ruin it.

Every time.

The line is long to check in at the infusion center.

This is where you come to get chemo. Blood products. Monthly shots. Antibiotics.

Whatever is needed to fight the beast of cancer – or at least keep it at bay – is administered here. Lord willing it works.

One patient is belching, near vomiting, struggling to keep it together behind her cotton mask.

An elderly woman comes in, her arms covered in bruises, with a deep purple bruise on her face. She explains to the receptionist that she hit her face with the car door when she opened it. It matches my arms now, she laughs. You know how I like to match, she chuckles.

There isn’t an ounce of spare flesh on her, and the skin she has is sagging and wrinkled with time. She persists.

Four more of us wait, patiently or impatiently, for our treatments. Today, I’m getting my monthly Zolodex shot. As I will every month for 3 1/2 more years.

It’s a very small price to pay.

More people come in, give their name, sit down.

Wait.

Every time I am here, though, I am counting my blessings.

It’s 91° outside.

For some people, that will make them smile.

Not me.

I live in the south.

The high humidity, feels like you are drowning in a steam room when you walk out the door South.

Some people adjust. Acclimate.

Others actually embrace it!

I am not some people.

I hate hot, humid weather.

Why do I live here?

It’s complicated.

I have Pinterest boards dedicated to our retirement home that will be north of here.

It will be in the country. It will be in a place that has all four seasons.

It will not be here.

I can’t believe that I’ve lived here for almost half my life.

I’ve lived in a place I don’t want to be.

Hurricane season is something I truly dread – and it’s something we have to prepare for, and something we learn to watch the weather forecast for from the coast of Africa to the Gulf of Mexico for months.

I find things to make summer bearable. Planting flowers that bloom in the languid shimmering heat. Listening to the frogs at night. Swimming with my grands in the silky salt water pool.

The activity that I will be participating in more than anything else is staying in air conditioned environs.

Dreaming of a real Autumn.

Fantasizing about fresh snow and the silent blue white of a snowy white.

Summer is just not my jam.

Never has been.

Never will be.