In the early 1990s my parents used to go to Coyote Lake in their motor home. One summer, I remember, they stayed there for a couple of months with my two oldest sons, Billy and Devon. (I miss them greatly.) I went down and saw them at the lake several times during that summer. I had to work but I got down there when I could. Weekends.
This morning, about 20 years since the last time I at that lake, Anselm and I went fishing down there. It was strange for me. I loved being with Anselm (He caught a bass on a crawdad lure but it was two small to keep). but I was also sad because of my first two sons. We saw three different flocks of turkeys (one was mostly Gould's variety but the others looked like Rio Grand variety. I was surprised to see such sharp distinctions.) a covey of quail, several mule deer, and a bobcat. but no coyotes.
Sometimes, it seems like I have had too many lives. Everything and everywhere is full of memories.
Anselm and I are going to make a regular thing out of Thursday mornings, I think. I am able to arrange my work schedule so that I don't have to be anywhere until 2pm on Thursdays, and that is fine for fishing. I am very happy about that.
I don't feel like I've had too many lives, but it truly is an adjustment, a constant struggle, to live in this one and not in the past, which seemed when I was in that era to just be "the way life is." Since my husband died I am in a new life, it seems, even though I still do many of the same things. It must have been hard to be at the lake and campground with so many memories, to be fully in the present.
ReplyDeleteI wonder if I will ever work out this dilemma. I have so many moments that are full of joy and happiness, but under it all is this sadness, missing what was. Sometimes I remember to look toward that glorious Day when Christ will gather all together... Then, do the next thing.