Not Yet

I wrapped my sweater more closely around my body as I stood and looked out at the familiar horizon before me. I thought how strange it is that the familiar can change day by day, but yet somehow those familiar changes do give a comfortable feeling of knowing. Of consistency. I really love that.

Summer. How quickly it has passed, I thought. My husband and I have been loyal to this annual ritual of saying goodbye to one familiar and journeying south to another warmer familiar. Moving from one nest to another never gets easier. At least for me. It seems that just as quickly as we get into a comfortable routine at one place, we have to shut the door and start again somewhere else. But this year, I’m not ready. It has happened too quickly.

“Oh look the leaves are beginning to curl and turn,” I said to my husband this morning, “September just arrived …. it shouldn’t be this cold yet.” The loud cicadas have been signaling the beginning of the end and now the leaves turning. Too soon. So not ready, I said to myself looking out over the ocean.

Not just yet. No hurry here. I’m not ready for summer’s last breath to blow in the winds that chill me to the core. I’m not ready to close the door on warm ocean breezes.

I hesitated. What am thinking? To be honest with myself, the truth is, it’s not this place, this nest, it’s that Life is going by too, too quickly for me. I am not ready for much more than just changing my seasonal nest. That’s just a small part of it.

I’m not ready to grow old. Period. I’m not ready for my seasons to change. I’m not ready for my white hair to give me an identity crisis. I’m not ready to have to stand on my tiptoes to kiss my grandson on the cheek. I’m not ready to have people help me with my groceries. I’m not ready to have the young ‘texters’ give up their seats for me.

I am…..just…..not……ready for that yet….but…….

I am so ready to keep dancing in front of the mirror. I am so ready to splash in the waves along the beach. I am so ready for gelled nails. I am so ready to daydream to love songs. I am so ready to eat a whole cheesecake and not feel guilty about it. I am so ready for the young girl inside of me to stay around for a long time.

Let’s face it. I am just…..well… not…..ready to act my age!

My Bag Of Marbles


(My grandson lost his paternal grandfather yesterday and has flown here with my daughter today to say his farewells.  My heart grieves, too, for those he has left behind. All fathers, grandfathers, though not our own, leave an empty place in the sky when they fall.)
The longer I am on this earth the more convinced I am it is no secret that my life, your life, our lives are full of ups and downs, hills and valleys, joys and sorrows. Each of these elements, or ingredients, are what makes up existence for all of us. 
 Every day is a new challenge, a new joy, a new sorrow and a new surprise. Our lives are just big bags of marbles with everything rolling around inside our bag. And whatever is in there, whatever is noxious or sweet, whatever falls in our laps, we either learn to deal with it, take away something positive from it, have fun with it, appreciate it, or have a miserable existence. 
I know those for whom Life moves on day by day, passing them – not feeling or seeing. The good. The bad. They see and feel nothing. They are just walking through.  
Please, don’t ever let me be one of those. Let me roll around in my bag bumping into happiness and joy and find all the good marbles in my bag that are positive and uplifting. But if perchance I bump into sorrow and heartbreak when my bag is shaken up a bit let me know that there will be other marbles of good cheer and happier days ahead.  
And Dear Creator, please let me be able to recognize the difference in loving and understanding every marble that comes my way. I don’t want to just roll through.
Copyright Sandra Hart 2015. All Rights Reserved