Posted tagged ‘anticipation’

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“May: the lilacs are in bloom. Forget yourself.”

May 19, 2016

Yesterday my irrigation guy came to turn on the lawn water and the outdoor shower. He told me I wouldn’t be taking a shower for a while. I was curious. He told me there was a giant nest in the shower and tons of pine cone pieces. A spawn of Satan daring to build a nest to reproduce was my first thought. I went this morning to check. It is a giant pile, but I didn’t see an opening indicating it might be a nest but I forgot to check the backside in case the spawn chewed through to make a door. I’ll do that later. If it is empty-the pile will be a memory. If there are spawn babies, I’ll wait.

I am announcing it is spring. I know it’s chilly during the day, but the nights only get as low as the 40’s. I even had my window opened all night.

Lately I have had a feeling of anticipation, a sense of something coming. I haven’t ordered anything, am not expecting visitors and no parade is being organized for my street. I’m at a loss so I’ll just have to be patient, not a strong point of mine.

The May procession was around this time. It was on a Sunday, and the whole school took part. The second graders wore their white first communion outfits. The rest of the boys had to wear white shirts and a tie. The colors of their pants didn’t matter. The girls had to wear dresses. The route was a square, not a circle. We started at the school and ended up at the grotto beside the church. The outside of the grotto was stone. A statue of Mary was in a high niche in the front. All the students stood circling the grotto and sang the songs we’d been practicing for weeks. “Mary, we greet thee with flowers today, Queen of the angels, Queen of the May.”I was in eight May processions so I still remember snatches of all the songs. Parents lined the streets to see the procession. Many of them had cameras, Brownie cameras. The pictures were in black and white. Somewhere in the house I have a few of the photos my parents took the year I crowned Mary. I had to walk up a ladder holding the crown of flowers and then placed the crown on the head of the statue. It was quite an honor. The only things I remember are stopping for photos on the route and having Father Smith help me up the ladder because I was wearing an old wedding gown which came to my ankles, and he was afraid I’d trip. That was the highlight of my elementary school years.

The sun is shining. There isn’t a breeze. It is a good day.

 

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“Winter is a time of promise because there is so little to do — or because you can now and then permit yourself the luxury of thinking so.”

December 29, 2014

I no longer consider myself a loller. Yesterday I went out and did my errands and even brought my laundry downstairs, but I admit it got no further and still sits in the hall waiting for its final journey. I am in no hurry to move it. I just keep adding to it. Doing laundry demands a particular mood or a frantic need for specific clothes like underwear. Maybe tomorrow I keep telling myself.

It’s chilly today. We have sun and a blue sky, but it is pleasing only to the eye, best seen from the warm house through a window.

Getting ready then celebrating Christmas made for an exciting week. It was filled with anticipation and neither Christmas Eve nor Christmas Day disappointed. Now, however, there is a lull. I don’t even have a dance card. I take naps. I still light the Christmas tree every night, but its days are numbered. Soon the house will be boring, bereft of light and color, a perfect reflection of winter.

The ocean in winter looks dark and foreboding. The beach is sometimes so windy and bone chillingly cold you fear you’ll never get warm. The car heater on high makes your fingers tingle as they start to feel again. Your feet seem to take a bit longer, but taking off your shoes and putting your feet by the heater helps. Soon enough hands and feet are back to normal, and it is time to lower the blasting heat and move along.

I always hope no one comes to my door on a winter’s afternoon. I am never dressed for company. Even now I’m in my winter uniform. I’m wearing a sweatshirt, a Celtics sweatshirt, my around the house pants and a pair of new slippers. I haven’t even brushed my hair, but I don’t care. I am comfy and happy, and I’m thinking that’s all that counts.

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“Travel is more than the seeing of sights; it is a change that goes on, deep and permanent, in the ideas of living.”

September 30, 2013

This morning I knew for certain fall had arrived. On my way to breakfast at nine, the bank’s ATM had no line, the streets were nearly empty and the diner had plenty of open booths. My friend and I even sat and chatted, something we could never do in summer. Back then a line of people stood waiting outside so we never took time just to sit and drink coffee, but the people have gone home and the lines have disappeared.

The day is another glorious fall day with a warm sun; it’s not even cold enough to be sweatshirt weather. Even the nights have been warm: in the high 50’s so my bedroom window is still open, and I’ve left the screen on the front door. It’s a day to sit on the deck with a good book and a lazy attitude.

On my way to breakfast I went by the high school where I used to work. I only gave it a passing glance. Though I spent thirty-three years working there, the nine years of retirement have distanced me. I have a sense of nostalgia as I am also a graduate, but that’s it. I am not at all curious as to how it fares. I have moved elsewhere.

My friends have either already traveled or are packing their bags to leave. I am envious. This is the year of staying home for me, and I don’t like it all that much. Looking forward to a trip is one of the pleasures of life. The anticipation builds, and the days are counted down until the big day: the day to leave. I even have a sense of longing for the smell of the jet when I board. During the flight, I check the progress of the plane and count the hours until it touches-down. I love walking out of the airport and smelling air filled with a sense of the place where I’ve landed. Hearing other languages lets me know I am far from home, but I am delighted in the unfamiliar. I roam the streets without purpose and often happen upon a spot to explore or a restaurant with an aroma that draws me to a table. Sometimes it is a shop window which catches my attention. Sometimes it is simply the wandering down one street or another.

I so love to travel and miss it when I don’t.

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“I have a trunk containing continents.”

May 2, 2011

I never much mention the news. I figure we all get enough of it, but I was taken with the President’s speech formally acknowledging the death of Osama Bin Laden. I immediately had two reactions. One was gladness and relief, but the other was the memory of the Hydra. That last one  scares me.

Today is much like yesterday: warm in the sun and chilly in the shade. It’s a typical spring day on Cape Cod. Leaves have finally appeared on many of the trees, and they’re a light green like new leaves always are. Only the oak trees are far behind with their tiny buds. The birds sing every morning, and peepers are getting louder at night. The sights and sounds of summer are getting closer.

The world is so much smaller now. Hopping a plane is no big deal. People take it as a matter of fact. Gone are the suits and dresses of the old time travelers. Comfort is more important. I, who have traveled to so many places, still get excited no matter where I’m going. It’s the anticipation. I buy new clothes, read travel books, decide what I want to see and where I might stay, but I always leave room for the unexpected. That’s the best part of any trip.

I’m already excited about Ghana. I’ve bought my new clothes, have read travel books and been roaming on line. My friend Ralph said it will be so different and yet still the same. He’s right. In my memory are sights and smells I expect to meet again, and I can hardly wait until my first market day. I know Accra is enormous now, and Bolga is much bigger than it was, but the small villages and the family compounds appear to be the same. My mouth is watering in anticipation of my first taste of kelewele and of Guinea fowl covered in red pepper and wrapped in fresh Ghanaian bread. I wish my trip was tomorrow.

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