Wild snapdragons by railway tracks lemonade stand memories Day 252 #365daysofsybwriting #365daysofhaiku Today’s haiku has nothing to do with my day but I’m putting it first with the accompanying picture of the snapdragons as a couple of people wanted to see them and this way they should show up in Effy’s facebook group without said people having to read the blog. Today was a day! Or it tried really hard to be. Our upright freezer full of food stopped working yesterday. We discovered it at 7pm and frantically tried to rescue what we could. We kept the freezer plugged in in the hope that, now pretty much empty, it would start to work overnight. But it didn’t. So this morning was a flurry of trying to find someone to come and look at it and trying to farm out lots of the food to family so it wouldn’t go to waste. In the middle of all this and before I’d had breakfast, one of my stepdaughters, Willow, came by to take some of the food. I went to let her into the house. “Have you seen the size of that rat?” she asked. “Rat?” “Yeah, there in the middle of the road.” “That’s a rat? It’s huge!” “Yeah. It’s swollen and it’s leg is all—” “Ugh!” I threw my hands up at her. “I don’t want to know. I haven’t had breakfast yet. I can’t think about dead rats!” Seriously! This is what my life had become? Piles of soggy, dripping food; sinks full of dirty dishes; a kitchen table strewn with condiments from the fridge; cat poop in front of the upright freezer (I could relate to that sentiment at least); and now a dead rat in the middle of the road! Willow offered to remove the rat but I wouldn’t let her. “What will you do with it? You can’t take it in your car. I don’t want it anywhere near here. No. I’ll call the city.” Rob reached over me to grab some bags and I snarled. “No! Don’t you go and pick it up either!” He gave me a withering look. “These are for Willow’s food.” “Oh.” Chill, Sue. We had to settle for an appliance repair person on Tuesday, the earliest we could get anyone. I had called the City and they were coming to remove the poor rat. But then a braver-than-me neighbour came home and picked it up with a shovel. I called out to him about the City coming but he just shrugged and said it was okay, he could deal with it. By the time everything had calmed down and Rob was at work, I felt emotionally exhausted and very teary. My stepdaughter Carole was supposed to be dropping in the afternoon to take some food but I just wanted to run away. So I told her I’d drop by with the food cos I was upset and running away, probably to the Terry Fox monument. Carole, being Carole and very able to deal with me when I’m emotionally tattered simply asked if I wanted to stop in for tea. I asked her if she and my grandson Ollie wanted to come to the Terry Fox monument with me. Ollie was off school as he’d woken up with a sore throat at 5 a.m. but was now full of energy and feeling much better and Carole had taken the afternoon off work to be with him. So off we went to the Terry Fox monument. It’s located just off the Trans-Canada Highway close to where Terry had to stop his Marathon of Hope (cross country run for cancer awareness) in 1980 because he became too ill. The bronze statue of Terry is amazing in its likeness and he faces west, his home, a fact which always touches my heart. Being there puts everything into perspective every time. Despite being busy, the place emanates calm, a reverence even, with a beautiful view of Lake Superior and plenty of benches and picnic tables. I remember hearing that his mother Betty Fox particularly liked this statue. It used to be right off the highway (called the Terry Fox Courage Highway at this point), in a lay-by area, but it was eventually moved across the road to this high-up park-like setting. I miss being able to see him as you drive the highway but this is a more reflective place. I wrote the following poem a few years ago. Perspective is everything. Above the Highway To the woman huddled alone in misty rain beside the Terry Fox Monument: I feel your tears. I watched you brush the bench clear of sodden brown leaves, here, beyond an avenue of maples above the highway. I want to pluck you from this moment, reassure you, your son returns to you soon, arms open wide, despite your ex’s accusations in divorce court an hour ago. I will never forget you, your emotions, your lessons learned. And when it’s time, perhaps on a misty day like this, I’ll collect you. We’ll walk away arm in arm beyond an avenue of maples far above the highway. Day 9 Effy’s Blogalong
6 Comments
Angela F
9/11/2021 01:17:36 am
Love your Snapdragons and hope your day has settled. xoxo
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AuthorWelcome! I'm Sue Blott: a writer of all things, a poet at heart, mom, wife, daughter, step-mom, grandma, tea drinker, tai chi-er, mystic, artist, dreamer...and now a blogger! This is my world. Categories |