Waiting for me

Up twice with Bree last night, as she had some mild form of digestive trouble. Arthur may have left too much on his plate for her to clean up or it was just one of those things.

I’m so glad that I cut the ficus on the side fence down to six feet, because it enables a clear view to the east and the clouds are usually more interesting on the beach. I was waiting for Bree and looking at the eastern clouds at 2 dark-thirty this morning when someone’s window shaker kicked on and instantly transported me back almost 40 years, to my own room in another cracker box. And my own window A/C unit.

Eerie, when that happens with such clarity. As if time was swept away and I was just entering my first year of high school. I hadn’t made the mistake of marrying the boy idiot, never sold office furniture or tape supplies. Never took clippings in a greenhouse and carted dirt from one place to another. Never Never Land.

My parents were still alive in 1972 and though life wasn’t perfect, it was still out there, all of it, just waiting for me. But, as the old saying goes… I’d only want to do it over if I knew then what I know now.