Texas summoned me due to my former husband's illness and death. My youngest daughter, son-in-law and I made it here in time to join my other two girls to be with their dad as he passed away. I was humbled and honored to be present.
When someone you are connected to, for better or worse, in sickness and health and by mutual choice despite divorce, dies, it leaves you (or at least me) in a very contemplative place. The rustle of the palm in his backyard makes me wonder if he's trying to catch my attention about something left undone, or unsaid. Driving his fast and expensive cars sort of channels him in all the right ways with good memories, like being taught to shift without using the clutch. The cooing doves that populate the power lines behind his home, and no one else's, charm me. The grief of our children breaks my heart and clouds my eyes. The details of the estate are somehow soothing as they are something that can be acted upon when very little else can be.
At this very moment, one of our daughter's friends is enjoying the pool with his two children. It is a delight to both meet these beautiful children and to hear the garden ringing with laughter and delight. There are plants blooming in the garden whose identity is beyond my broad west coast scope of knowledge. Cannas are considered invasive here. There are other interesting southern things that we might grow as annuals in the PNW. Under different circumstances I'd look them up and learn about their culture and care. It just doesn't matter right now. What matters is our daughter is sitting poolside studying while her friend and his boys are cooling off from the Texas heat. I think all will be OK with the world after a little while.
Just to let you know, the song doesn't go "And the Texas sun makes my back burn." LOL, I used to think that too! It goes "Oh, the heads that turn make my back burn" NOT TEXAS SUN!
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