there, this is the last of these "cutouts" you'll have to endure

Those photos were taken six years ago, when I was miserable, when Mom was dying. I looked tired and washed out (in the ones where you can see my face, of course). I was stuck in the city for 10 months to be near her and felt like it was a prison because even though there was nature outside my door, I had to hide in my back yard to avoid other people and houses and vehicles. I couldn’t stride off into the countryside alone.

The whole experience of watching Mom die was a kind of imprisonment of the spirit, because there was no escaping the reality of it, the pain of it, the fear, the sorrow.

Not that there weren’t good times. There were many. But I felt cut off from solitude and sky, and that made the hard things harder.

*** Darn! I’ve got to start work in 10 minutes. I’ve been up since eight and the morning has flown by. What have I done? Walked two miles (my former employer from a job I had 24 years ago stopped on the road to chat as he was on his way to work on machinery at a neighbouring farm), ate toast and peanut butter for breakfast, sat on the deck with fresh coffee and my journal and wrote several pages while basking in the sounds and sights and smells:

Daisies, delphiniums, hollyhocks, gazanias, roses, feverfew, daylilies, brown-eyed susans, violas …
Red-tailed hawk or was it an eagle, sandhill cranes, crows, magpies, goldfinches, hummingbirds …
Airplane, train whistle …

I live in heaven. I’m telling you, it’s heaven.

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