Ruminations

Resistance is the way we react when we don’t want to embrace the present moment. We want things to be different. Period. So we feel that anger, or jealousy, or impatience. We don’t accept that things are what they are.

I fell madly in love on Christmas Eve. Here’s what happened.
My husband and son walked into the house carrying a huge grass basket, singing we wish you a Merry Christmas at the top of their lungs. Inside the basket? Two eight-week-old Jack Russell Terrier puppies.

I believed the beauty, orderliness, and stateliness of the great house would offer a balm for my current sense of things falling apart, of immense changes not only in my life but in the world. However, I was mistaken.

Ironically, the morning after Ian left Florida to move on to South Carolina was astounding. After two days of angry wind gusts and a steady downpour, we were rewarded with a cerulean sky and a few wisps of white clouds along with temperatures that herald in the wonderful Florida autumn.

I tend to get nostalgic and think of my early childhood in Germany, when the landscape turned orange, red, and yellow, a precursor to the bare and wintry landscape soon to come. Time to collect chestnuts and stock up on firewood. Memories of Oma climbing wearily out of our cozy featherbed in the mornings and crank up the wood-burning stove to warm the kitchen before she came to get me up and dressed.

A few days ago, I received an email from my father that made my heart clench. At ninety-five, he is part of a dwindling number of WWII veterans, in his case one of Hitler’s teenage boys conscripted to the army. He fought on the beaches of Normandy, was wounded, and captured.