Behind the grill, in the corner there’s a collection of leaves, dirt, dust and a moth or two.
I paused this morning to see the sky. The air fixated, it seemed on one leaf. Brittle fern fronds on the floor like rose petals left for a lover and the one leaf, edges upturned and a little bigger than the others,
Sort of shimmering.
I know it’s strange, to be fascinated by a dried up leaf on a sleepy Saturday morning.
Was it healthy or close to decay? Was there a notice of it over the others that caused it to be the lonely one taking in the breeze
While the others were still?
Had given in to decay.
I turn 62 next week.
There are unforeseen health things.
All in a matter of a couple of weeks. There’s the dental stuff that triggers childhood shame. There’s the inflamed knee that pains me and odd or maybe not, I’m unable to kneel to pray.
There’s the diagnosis of high blood pressure that I’m disputing, watching and waiting.
Because I think it’s anxiety.
There’s all this stuff that points to aging and old things and to the trauma of losing parents before they were old.
Someone I love told me of an emergency room visit and how it triggered her. I told her “no wonder” and asked how she recovered.
She told me it was just a few days ago. She’s getting better.
And not by crazy shaming of self “get it together” because
It’s not the same and that was so long ago.
Instead, by accepting her emotions and not shaming herself about them.
Letting the sorrow and fear revisit and then go their way.
This is now.
You are here. This felt like that, but it isn’t.
All the leaves have now been swept away together. The resilient one mixed in with the ones unbothered by the wind are in the yard with the pine straw and mulch.
Strange that I’d notice a crinkled leaf first thing.
Or not strange at all.