As the house of a person
in age sometimes grows cluttered
with what is
too loved or too heavy to part with,
the heart may grow cluttered.
And still the house will be emptied,
and still the heart.
As the thoughts of a person
in age sometimes grow sparer,
like a great cleanness come into a room,
the soul may grow sparer;
one sparrow song carves it completely.
And still the room is full,
and still the heart.
Empty and filled,
like the curling half-light of morning,
in which everything is still possible and so why not.
Filled and empty,
like the curling half-light of evening,
in which everything now is finished and so why not.
Beloved, what can be, what was,
will be taken from us.
I have disappointed.
I am sorry. I knew no better.
A root seeks water.
Tenderness only breaks open the earth.
This morning, out the window,
the deer stood like a blessing, then vanished.
~ Jane Hirshfield ~
Today everything I tried to accomplish was an exercise in frustration. The children are finished with school and keeping them learning for another month is sometimes almost impossible. I don't blame them, it is beautiful outside and sometimes all I want is to be out there soaking up sun. I tried to go to the courthouse to switch the truck title into my name. Oh my. Not so simple. forms to fill out, lawyers to call, then another call, then come back later. I tried to go to Social Security to find out what I need to do there and whether or not I am even able to collect on David's. I might not be able to, which creates a lot of other problems. Social Security is only open limited hours, I don't know what someone does when they work 8-5. I tried calling but no one ever answers and you can't do anything online. So another trip another day. I'm afraid to go, I don't know if I want to hear the news. Part of our financial plan was believing that I would be able to collect on David's Social Security. If I can't, well, I'm afraid to go there right now. I just wanted to accomplish one thing today. Just one thing.
Instead, I went outside and planted things in the garden, dug weeds, and wandered around surveying Spring. A mixed blessing. David and I usually did this together. It was our daily gift, sharing the joy of what we had created here. It is hard not to be able to share it with him and yet it still brings such joy to find the first Jack in the Pulpit, to get an unexpected whiff of fragrance from the azaleas, to see the first Columbine bloom.
Empty and filled, filled and empty. That's all there is.