Last

You can't change the past, but you can change how you respond to it.

Sounds rather profound.  It wasn't meant to be, but it's so true.  As I work with family histories I find stories we wish to remember and cherish, and ones we wish hadn't happened and would give just about anything to undo them.  But we can't!  Even as we try to forget those nightmares, they remain a part of us, either as a reoccurring pain or the basis for a better future.

The past is long, billions of years; the future is also long, maybe more billions of years.  My personal past is more like 80 years and my future far less than that.  The present is the shortest; one moment it's the future and the next it's the past.  The present is what we experience.  It's now.  Even as I write this, the word that I just wrote in the moment that I wrote it can never happen again.  It's the last time that moment will happen.  That's where the title "Last" was born.

A year and a half ago, I celebrated my 80th birthday for the last, and only, time.  About three years ago was the last time I talked to Ken, Gail's brother, and his wife Sally.  They both died this year.  The same is true for Tina's mother.  More recently, last week, a long time friend breathed his last.  It's hard to accept the reality that I will never again talk to any of these dear people again earth.

It may be the last, but it's not the end.  It's been said before, probably many times in many different ways, when one door closes another opens, or when something ends something else begins.  Hence, I will live today and each day as if it's your last time to connect to others.  Happy Holiday Season!!

What Was I Thinking

 I'm sitting in my "grandpa's recliner" with a cup of hot chocolate next to me.  Within reach are an iPad for trite activities, and the tools and supplies for crocheting.  Yesterday we gave the year's collection of crocheted beanies to the Christmas box people who will give them out to families in a couple weeks.  In exchange they gave me another bag of yarn, about 13 balls, nice stuff.

The sun is roaring through the sky today, a rarity in Oregon Decembers, while the rain awaits its turn to return in a couple days.  Early morning texts from around the country indicated temperatures at zero in South Dakota, 23 near Flagstaff and a foot of snow in the lake area.  Oregon's temperatures slipped to near freezing locally yesterday for the first time this fall but should remain well above freezing for the foreseeable future, a far cry from the December temperatures at our former homes in Alaska and North Dakota.

I did a short walk-around this morning as I knew that in a cool day with no scheduled events I would be using my recliner much of the day: writing, reading, designing and crocheting.  I do this in part to celebrate that I can still do this and do it comfortably.  I'm also excited to acknowledge that my childhood dream of becoming handsome may be coming to fruition.  Well, at least at 81 years old my hair is still brown, not gray.

One of the joys of a walk-around is just simply enjoying the beauty of nature.  Another joy is to foster ideas for blogging, or journaling.  A joy of being 81 is that when I have those thoughts again, they will seem to be new, creative and never experienced before.  So somewhere wherever this morning's idea for a blog is tucked in a corner waiting for me to discover again, meanwhile I'm going to grab the crochet hook and create a beanie.  Or maybe a Christmas ornament.

[Sip of warm chocolate]

[Help Gail align and sew the back to the front of a small quilt]

[Sip of not very warm chocolate]