River: Amethyst Rose: 32

Still there in the twilight my Amethyst Rose
Will be blooming untarnished by tears. -- "For Amy"

I wrote that song twenty years ago yesterday. A year ago, my post was mainly about Colleen, who had died less than a month before. (Her song is Eyes Like the Morning.) (Is anyone reading this new since last year? Or the year before? I don't think so, but I could be wrong. If you are, you may want to either skip this, or do some catching up.) Whatever. Onward....

I'm having a lot of trouble getting things done. A lot of that is just plain lazyness, but a lot is also denial. I can handle Colleen's death, sort of. What I'm having real trouble with is the prospect of moving. The house is a bit of a wreck, there's too much Stuff (that I don't know what to do with), and the yard is an absolute disaster. I need to call a plumber, find someone to clear the yard, take the cats to a vet, hire movers, ... and somehow downsize from about 1500 square feet (2000 if you count the garage full of boxes) to under 200. I'm probably going to have to throw money at someone to organize an estate sale for that. Maybe a senior relocation specialist?

And my left hip has been giving me trouble all week. Piriformis, probably. It was significantly worse last night, though it seems to have responded pretty well to naproxen. I'm still going to skip the yardwork I'd planned for today, because ouch!

I'm blathering. It's not as if I started writing this with a plan or anything...

Colleen and I spent fifty years surrounding ourselves with beautiful things. I don't know what's going to become of them now. Or of me, for that matter.

And because it's hauntingly relevant, here's a video of Joni Mitchell singing “Big Yellow Taxi” Live at Newport Folk Festival a week ago last Sunday. I think I'm going to stop here. I think I'd intended to add a fantasy bit, but maybe another day. That's okay, Daddy. Mommy and I will still be here whenever you need us.

Thankful Thursday

Today I am grateful for...

• Writing as therapy and solace.
• The Original Orient Express Train Is Returning to Paris and I'm working with N on a travel blog. Hmmm.
• Negative COVID-19 tests (for several household members).
• Glyphosate -- to which the weeds on our Whidbey Island property are not resistant. No thanks to me for not having dealt with them four years ago.
• Heating pads and naproxen sodium. No thanks to whichever muscle has been causing hip pain for the last week; my left piriformis muscle being the most likely suspect.