Sometimes I wonder -- what would have life been like for me had I been more of an Ed? Impossible! Had I been more of an Ed, I wouldn't be anywhere near where I am today. And I like where I am today: in my cottage with a garden and a dog, close to Ed. And yet, what if all parameters shifted, or hadn't been set in this way at all? What if I left Poland, dropped out of college in my last semester, closed myself off from the pressures of modern life, earned a little, spent less, didn't care... There is no one right life. Where would I be now, as a senior, looking back at a life lived differently?
*. *. *
Have you ever broken someone's heart? You probably did. But did you know it? I've done it at least twice in my life. I could excuse each and claim neither was intentional, but that's just lame. I also broke the heart of Sadie and one could count Henry too. Both those dogs deserved my loyalty and yet I could not give it to them. In the same way that I could not stay with the two men whose hearts suffered for it. (There was also Niko in Greece as a third, but I dont think a vacation fling counts, even if he did slice his finger in passionate desperation.)
We associate heartbreak with romance. Heart equals love, no? But it can run along different lines of course. Family, for example. My mother broke my already shrunken heart when she walked out on me and stated her loyalty to my then husband over any loyalty to me. She just liked him better than she liked me. But then, she seems to have liked Ed better too, so maybe I was the problem for her...
The conventional wisdom is that your kids cannot damage your heart. If your kid commits a crime and ends up in jail, or votes for the other side in a presidential race, you still love her or him. You may be disappointed, depressed, demoralized, but your heart should not bend, crack, or shatter. All those mothers in the TV crime dramas I watch tell the detective -- he was a good boy, he would never harm anyone... A desperate hope that deep down, her child is a good human being. Mothers should understand. Have compassion. My mother was unusual in her disdain. I am grateful that in the end I did not break her heart. She saved that for my father, who did.
Ed often says to me -- I do not understand why people want kids. It's never ending draining work. What if I were like him? I'm not, no, not at all. But what if?
He called last night, he called this morning. Checking in on me. To the outside observer, it may appear that Ed isn't one to show concern over another. But this is not true about him. He doesn't worry, that part is true. He'd also like me not to worry or fret, or to be discouraged. In other words, I suppose to be more like him. It's an interesting idea. Though are we ever able to change? I'm a product of my history, he is a product of his.
*. *. *
Millie and me. In the morning. I blame a sleepless night for my eating breakfast.
(are you coming to eat?)
(yes...)
(breakfast is the only time when she likes to sleep on me, or pressing into me)
I'm on auto pilot and I make my morning meal forgetting that I will be eating in about an hour or so. It's the day of my breakfast meetup with my two breakfast friends.
Such good food she makes for us! I still am hungry for it, maybe because my dinner was pathetic last night: a salad with half a piece of still half frozen chicken. I didn't bother fully defrosting it. Today, I feast on squash, carrot and onion galette and apple cake.
And I continue to forget. That I was supposed to pick up bread for Ed at Madison Sourdough on my way home. And spinach from our CSA spinach farmers. At least Millie is at day care, so I do not have to worry about leaving her at home or dragging her along on these not too interesting outings that I have to backtrack to, because I forgot.
(driving past Vilas Park: two trees, engaged in a dance)
Taking the bread, the spinach to the farmhouse, dumping my compost there, I come across Henny, the lone
chicken living there now.
(remember this farmette autumnal view? photographed so often over the years by me!)
*. *. *
I have no baby sitting duties this week. Again, I don't do the planning here -- I show up when I am told to show up and stay home when I am told to stay home. Because I have a freer afternoon, I ignore the drizzle (yes, that again!) and plant four more roses. And no, I'm not done yet, even though the weather is really turning on me this next week. The ground wont freeze, but still, I should have been done with planting in October.
I pick up Millie. How I love my little pup!
Tired girl. Tired me.
with so much love...
