Has anyone read the Waste Land by T.S. Eliot? He wrote if for Ezra Pound. The poem is riddled with symbolism. "April is the cruelest month," is just the beginning of the first line of the poem. I too, sometimes think April is the cruelest month, at least until I get focused on the really important things in life.
Three years ago, in April, I hit a car. Yes, you read that correctly. The car did not hit me...I ran into it. I did not see it. I know a car is big, but not on this particular day. I was not hurt, just extremely embarrassed. The poor woman driving the car was more shook up. I couldn't tell if I could hear her heart beating...or mine.
I tried to rationalize the incident. After all, how could I admit that I did not see 4,000 pounds of mobility? I will say that it was a silver car and we had recently Sprung Forward, so I blamed it on the lighting. I did not hear it because it was a newer car.
When I arrived at work. One of my co-workers knew I was upset. She had never seen me even remotely emotional. I blamed that on menopause. It certainly seemed fitting. Later, I had to admit that I had been batted around by menopause for the previous six years.
The cold April showers cleared away my illusions and I had to face the truth. I had an issue that I referred to as a minor inconvenience that needed to be addressed. In reality, the car was not the obstacle...my denial was.
I have to say, that most mishaps now are comical and the ones that are not, are at least entertaining. I am just warning all of you, that you never know what I might do next. I don't even know. I have a new cane, that I refer to as Sidekick. I only use it if I have to. On bright sunny days he comes out to play and sometimes when the shadows aren't playing nice. He seemed to have come with another new friend, the tenebrous cloud who follows to my right. I will name him soon. The names I am coming up with now seem rather harsh.
April is cruel for other reasons too, but that is a blog post for another day. On a positive note, April also brings renewed life and lilacs. I love lilacs.
I messaged back and forth recently with a child hood friend and so many memories came flooding back. I had to smile. It also made me realize that I need to write some of these memories down, while I still can remember so much detail. I could write forever...and then I remember forever is not really that long. One memory led to another and the writing began.
Recalling those memories, makes me picture a beautiful, giant quilt showcasing in its majestic splendor an array of photos of family and friends both new and old. I will write about that later.
May your April be just a stepping stone of things yet to be and a quiet time of renewal.
Until, I find the pen again...
