Well it's that time of year again. Time for picnics, swimming, bike rides and the buzz of cicadas high in the treetops. That sound in particular makes me think it will be especially sweltering. It's also the time of year when all of the slithering, scary reptilian creatures gather in the woods and determine the next course of action to scare the crap out of me.
Today it's warm, velvety warm. The morning sky was hazy with humidity and the building heat of the day. By 4 in the afternoon, we decided to take a bike ride on the trail and go for a dip in the river. Xander and I were well ahead of Sammy and Robert because the last bike excursion, I had to bring up the rear with a newly trained Sammy, weaving and significantly slowing the pace. Now, I have no issues with taking our time and enjoying the scenery, but when I have to manage my breathing and would like to generate some kind of breeze, I get a little impatient despite his cherubic face.
We arrived at Jackson's Landing and I immediately hopped into the cool and refreshing water of the river. Xander was in right behind me and Sammy and Robert came around the bend and soon joined us. In the middle of the river, just south of the bridge, there was an eddy that appeared to be a bit deeper than the surrounding waters. Making my way further back on the river, I thought of the trips to Tahquemenon Falls with my family when we would venture into the rapids despite all of the signs stating, "Dangerous currents and whirpools. No Swimming", yet The Smith Family would go upstream, lift our legs and let the current take us downstream. I decided to give it a try. It was fun and Robert and the kids followed suit.
We continued to play around in the river and greeted some passing tubists (who knows what the correct term is) and also watched a man take his dogs into the cool waters. It was a lovely way to spend a hot afternoon, but we needed to head back and finish up chores and prepare dinner. I decided to bring up the rear and give Robert a break. The ride was going along splendidly until we reached the "fork" where the trail splits and either continues northwest or east toward Alan G. Davis Park. See, this is where those little legless buggers came out to greet me, or rocket me off into a full blown panic attack. I suspect I left a burn mark in the pavement with the speed at which I pedaled my bike back home.
Why? Why do I see them? Was it a message because just this morning Pastor spoke about the first relationship in all creation? That it was Eve who was tempted by the serpent. I don't recall seeing that nasty little reptile tempting me with an iced latte or expensive perfume. Lord, I'm getting chills just typing about it! Honestly, I swear there is a conspiracy among those disgusting critters to make me come to terms with something in my life. I do know that I may run over a small child next time I am biking the trail because I will only look ahead and not down at the pavement. So parents be warned, if you hear a screaming banshee with a bicycle aflame, it is probably just me after an encounter with the legless kind.
Sunday, July 17, 2011
Tuesday, July 12, 2011
The Pain Of Growing Older
I rode my bike 9 miles tonight to clear my head. To clear my head of the worst case scenarios that had been rendering me blind all day of everything positive in my life.
Biking and running allow me to have a different perspective both in thought and in how I take in my surroundings. Tonight while I was biking, I saw a small rabbit scamper off the trail and into the tall grass. I enjoyed hearing the varying bird calls in the treetops and the rush of cattails as the wind blew. I noted the musk of freshly tilled earth and cut grass.
Every few minutes my mind would wander back to the harsh reality that I faced earlier in the day. I called my mom in the morning to see when she might be coming to the house. I heard my dad in the background and she answered his questions and returned to our conversation to tell me she was concerned with my dad's incoherence. This has been weighing heavily on all of us for the past couple months. Dad has always been active and been conscientious of his health. I was bursting with pride when he took home a medal for winning his age group for walking a 5K a mere 8 months after breaking his neck.
Lately, my dad just hasn't been my dad. On my ride I thought of how my dad has always enjoyed walking and appreciating the beauty nature has to offer. This thought brought me to tears. I thought of the many walks we shared in his hometown of Lapeer at Thanksgiving when we visited Grandma. I was silently praying and thanking God for all the fascinating and funny stories Dad has shared throughout the years of his childhood. I remembered how he said their family fared better than most during World War II because his father was an attorney and some clients would pay with rations of food. I was thankful for all the long trips my dad has taken to provide me with much needed love and comfort. He drove nearly 800 miles round trip when I was in college to ease my homesick heart. He hopped on a plane and flew more than 2000 miles to calm my fears while I was going through a tumultuous divorce. He hugged me and walked with me as I suffered through post-partum depression after the birth of my second son.
This morning, I had to be the one providing comfort. It was excruciatingly painful to hold my mom while she sobbed and said more than once that Dad just isn't himself anymore. My heart weighs heavily and there is an ache in my throat from fighting tears. I've frequently told my boys that they are blessed to have so many loving grandparents in their lives and they should listen closely to what they have to say and enjoy their time with them. I also believe whole-heartedly in allowing my children to be spoiled by their grandparents because I missed having that kind of relationship.
My heart still weighs heavily and the ache is dull, but I feel better taking inventory of how I have been blessed. Tomorrow marks another chapter in all of my family's lives as Mom takes Dad to the doctor to be evaluated for dementia. Mortality is a difficult reality to accept when it comes so close to home. Today is a reminder to hold those you love close and enjoy the time you share.
Biking and running allow me to have a different perspective both in thought and in how I take in my surroundings. Tonight while I was biking, I saw a small rabbit scamper off the trail and into the tall grass. I enjoyed hearing the varying bird calls in the treetops and the rush of cattails as the wind blew. I noted the musk of freshly tilled earth and cut grass.
Every few minutes my mind would wander back to the harsh reality that I faced earlier in the day. I called my mom in the morning to see when she might be coming to the house. I heard my dad in the background and she answered his questions and returned to our conversation to tell me she was concerned with my dad's incoherence. This has been weighing heavily on all of us for the past couple months. Dad has always been active and been conscientious of his health. I was bursting with pride when he took home a medal for winning his age group for walking a 5K a mere 8 months after breaking his neck.
Lately, my dad just hasn't been my dad. On my ride I thought of how my dad has always enjoyed walking and appreciating the beauty nature has to offer. This thought brought me to tears. I thought of the many walks we shared in his hometown of Lapeer at Thanksgiving when we visited Grandma. I was silently praying and thanking God for all the fascinating and funny stories Dad has shared throughout the years of his childhood. I remembered how he said their family fared better than most during World War II because his father was an attorney and some clients would pay with rations of food. I was thankful for all the long trips my dad has taken to provide me with much needed love and comfort. He drove nearly 800 miles round trip when I was in college to ease my homesick heart. He hopped on a plane and flew more than 2000 miles to calm my fears while I was going through a tumultuous divorce. He hugged me and walked with me as I suffered through post-partum depression after the birth of my second son.
This morning, I had to be the one providing comfort. It was excruciatingly painful to hold my mom while she sobbed and said more than once that Dad just isn't himself anymore. My heart weighs heavily and there is an ache in my throat from fighting tears. I've frequently told my boys that they are blessed to have so many loving grandparents in their lives and they should listen closely to what they have to say and enjoy their time with them. I also believe whole-heartedly in allowing my children to be spoiled by their grandparents because I missed having that kind of relationship.
My heart still weighs heavily and the ache is dull, but I feel better taking inventory of how I have been blessed. Tomorrow marks another chapter in all of my family's lives as Mom takes Dad to the doctor to be evaluated for dementia. Mortality is a difficult reality to accept when it comes so close to home. Today is a reminder to hold those you love close and enjoy the time you share.
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