PRISMS AND POLKA DOTS

Little Cuddy is under the weather.  Poor little guy didn't eat yesterday and this morning he upchucked on the rug.  He's resting in his bed, and we hope by this evening he'll be able to eat some of his food.  At his age, it's scary when he doesn't feel well.  Guess that's today's worry.

My mother and her aunts were first-class worriers.  Think they all had Ph.D.'s in the science of World Wide Worry.  Now that I'm older, I seem to have inherited some of their tendencies, cuz I find myself worried about quite a few things at the same time.  There's a quote about worry that's quite famous, and it goes like this:  Worrying is carrying tomorrow's load with today's strength.  Carrying two days at once.  It is moving into tomorrow ahead of time.  Worrying doesn't empty tomorrow of its sorrow, it empties today of its strength.

Makes so much sense, but is so darned hard to do.  Think I worry about others more than I worry about myself.  Today there are family things going on that shouldn't and don't concern me, but still they do.  It's like I'm in the highest bleacher looking down on a playing field where the players look like ants.  Why worry about someone I can't even see?  

I've been in slow motion in finishing the book that I started a few weeks ago.  The Baron In The Trees is a fantasy story about a kid who gets mad at his family and goes to live in the trees.  I'm not into fantasy, so it's a struggle to finish.  What I need is a Dan Brown book where I can immerse my brain in a fast-paced read that holds my interest and from which I can learn something.  Fantasy just isn't my cup of tea.  I'm too much of a realist, I guess.

The day is beautiful.  A slight breeze has the birch leaves dancing once again.  When the sun hits their leaves, they turn and lighten up.  So pretty.  Which reminds me, Dale tells me a wren is residing in the gourd wren house by the garden plots.  Haven't seen or heard one outside our unit.  

So another day goes.  We don't go to the cemeteries anymore on Memorial weekend.  That was an annual ritual when our mothers were still with us.  We choose to let go of that outward expression of respect and simply cherish the memories in our hearts.