When I'm down and blue, feeling sorry for myself, I find comfort and solace in our garden. It's as important as the food we get from the earth and the eggs the chickens produce. And in some ways more important now with Wally in a more advanced state of dementia.
Our friends are gone now from the weekend. I went for a bike ride, played cards and we had a barbecue on Saturday. But now that everyone is gone, the caregiver taking his girlfriend back to the train station, it's just me, Wally, the dog, cat, and our garden. Wally and me, and our memories. I'm not sure what Wally can remember but I do for him. It's all we have.
Sometimes, I feel like tossing it all in. All the work and care to keep a house and garden up, to deal with caregivers and doctors, give it all up to hit the road in search of something better. But then I go outside and sit by the fountain remembering better days of laughter when Wally and I worked the land to make what we have today. How could I leave that behind?
Evening is approaching, my tears fall, the music of yesteryear plays, and I dream for Wally and me of better days. What more can I do?
No comments:
Post a Comment