Sunday, April 21, 2013

knee high in the clover

Last weekend as I mowed, I spotted The Boy's dog standing knee high in a large patch of clover growing in our yard. I smiled because she seemed so utterly content in that moment.

I pushed the lawn mower up and down the long strip between the yard and the woods, utterly content in that moment.

Earlier, while nosing around in the front yard to determine what needed to be grass and what needed to be given back to the woods, I discovered an enchanted area in the front corner of my yard. Thick green moss, curly ferns, a few patches of low-growing wildflowers. I could've sworn I saw a faery flit by.

Sometimes I believe I've ended up with everything she ever wanted. I'm certain she resents me for it. She shouldn't. I take no pleasure in it. In fact, I feel guilty, especially in the moments when that very thought is the only thing that allows me to forgive her.

The strain between us is apparent in so many conversations, heavy words left unsaid. Sometimes I think it would be easier if we didn't speak at all, but I want very much to do the right thing so I bite my tongue and dance around the elephants, determined not to ask for apologies she has never felt it necessary to offer.

Meanwhile my home sits knee high in the clover, nestled among enchanted woods while what's left of hers is still precariously perched in a field of prickly weeds. I struggle to not give into the notion that there is no need for me to feel guilty for all that I have that she lacks because perhaps I am simply the better person and more worthy. I do not ever want to place myself above her for our sins may be different, but they all weigh the same.

4 comments:

  1. Yesterday, I was talking to a co-worker. She thanked me for stopping in her office and telling her how great her grant writing was. She said, "You know, it had just been a rotten week. I was in a car accident and discovered that I had somehow run into my MOTHER IN LAW, I mean what are the odds of that happening? And then my son fell off his bunk bead that night and I had to take him to the ER and then my sister was diagnosed with cancer and I was just feeling so terrible about my life. You made me feel a little better." I thought about that day, how I was feeling so down and looked in her office and saw her and thought to myself, "God, she's so young and has no problems. Lucky duck.." But, I HAD read her grant proposal and it was brilliant, so..on a whim, I just told her. When she thanked me, I thought to myself that we never know another person's pain just by looking on the surface. I think it's always best to assume that we all have our burdens and are trying as hard as we can.

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    1. You are so right Maria! I catch myself out in public watching people, wondering what their story is, what heartache they hide. I also tend to forgive people for slights by reminding myself that they may be having a horrible day. I try so very hard to give her the same benefit but struggle with that so much.

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  2. I love the words "dance around the elephant"..
    Thanks for the comment on "Ripple"...on Burned Toast and Coffee"...Lately I have been doing most of my writing on "Tales by Old Grizz".
    I like your story but I am a little confused on who "She" is.

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    1. Thanks for stopping by. The "she" here is my mom.

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