Spring

March 2015

by Michael O’Brien

mjobrien@tamu.edu

The winter in most of the country has been hard: record snowfalls, record cold, and those warm teasing days that make you believe it’s over; then it all comes back again with the next cold front. We didn’t see a lot of that here, but my favorite oldest and youngest daughters did. They’ve moved East now and saw what winter in a city was all about, moments of hope followed by the disappointment of the same old thing.

Life goes like that some times, I think it always has. Tennessee Williams has a good quote:

“A high station in life is earned by the gallantry with which appalling experiences are survived with grace.”

Both my favorite oldest and youngest daughters have had experiences that are at least appalling, but might be described with more intensive terms too. They have their times of reflection when they take it in, bring it forward, and then find a way to go on. I’m proud of them every year for this, for facing pain and then stepping into the sun. What’s especially good about it this time of year is you can mostly trust that the sun will be there and will stay with you, warming you, nurturing your garden, reminding you that the beauty of a blue sky still exists.

This is the time of year I remember people too: Tyler in March, Mom in April, VG in May. I’m grateful for what each did for me, the people they protected, the people they nurtured, the people they taught who are central to my life. VG had a saying, “Love all, trust few, and always paddle your own canoe.” A nice motto for life I think. I’m trusting more and more these days: working not to paddle everyone else’s canoe around me and trying to rid myself of what my mom described as “Irish Alzheimer’s”…you only remember the people you’re mad at. I’m down to just one person that I don’t think I’ll ever forgive…okay maybe two. But I try not to let them into my days. Its hard to move forward carrying anger with you. But I feel the anxiousness of spring; maybe its remembering what some sacrificed for the ones I love; maybe its worrying about the tax return; maybe its worrying that the next week could freeze my tomatoes; or that the Cubs will build up my hopes only to dash them in August! Hard to say.

I’ve noticed that life takes a little more work these days: maybe its my age or that I’m still getting over the post-travel flu bugs, but its all a bit slower; I fumble with words more; my hands aren’t as useful in the shop; and even my pen and paper show a need to focus more to extract a good line. I find too that I think more about how few springs there are left. I never used to think of that, but with friends passing, you start to realize there aren’t a limitless number of springtimes left. Sometimes that stalls me, wondering what to do to get the most out of each day, but then I sit with the one who holds my heart and realize that time sitting on the porch,

watching the sun color the sky at dusk, the stars filling the sky, the neighbors cat teasing the neighbors dog, and sitting with someone I trust, someone I love, is the best part of life. True, the porch isn’t done; there’s painting to be done, fixing left unfixed, but, the sage is growing, the dill and tomatoes are rising, the bouganvilla is coming back from the winter’s death, and the gallardia still face the sun, and I’m holding hands with her. I’ve survived the day, the cold, and we sit together to take in the world from the porch. It’s a good spring.

I hope you have that person in your life and hope you can have the quiet moments to speak without speaking and trust that they will paddle their canoe alongside yours.

Be good to each other; remember Tyler Binstead this day, and Lorraine next week, and VG next month.

enough