A hard, hot wind is blowing today over Perryton, I took this picture of my next-door neighbor’s patio with pinwheel turning like crazy in a flower pot. It is so pretty, and the entire patio is really nice. The little lady who lives there is a natural born home interior and exterior major, magic-touch, specialist. She keeps everything in her yard looking beautiful. It’s just been in recent years that she has started having her yard mowed. She does everything else inside and out. She is 90 years old, and her husband is 92. They make me feel ashamed of the way I neglect my home and yard. They certainly have something I am missing. Both of them have had hip replacements and knee replacements, but it didn’t seem to slow them down much. I have had neither, but I don’t have the magic touch that they have. Everything I do I have to pray for God to pick me up out my recliner, and encourage me to get it done. If He ever gets me up then I do enjoy making things look better. I think I have a slight case of laziness, yet I hate an un kept house and yard. It’s a touch and go for me. I keep thinking how good I will feel when I go through seven cloths closets and throw away dozens of garment that I haven’t worn in years. Also when I haul dozens of my deceased husband’s cloths to a give-a-way house. I bought most of his cloths for him, and I still love them so much. None of them could be thought of as being out of style or old-looking. My own dress that I wore to my daughter’s wedding, then to my 25th wedding anniversary, then to my 50th wedding anniversary is still as aqua blue as new. I need to get separated from this long memory of love and satisfaction, at the same time I don’t want to get Alzheimer’s. Just pray for my children if I never do get past memory lane, and they have to get rid of all my precious memories.
No one will ever know how hard it is to live alone after being married to the same man for 63 years, until they go through it themselves. I do go some, but not as much as I did when my husband was living. The desire to leave home is simply not with me, yet I want to go. Can anyone explain that? A friend who has been single much longer than I told me I will never get over it. I will just have to live with it. Maybe if I take his cloths to someone who can use them I might forget somewhat. I just haven’t been able to move him out yet after nearly four years. Something keeps telling me he will be back. Any day now I expect to conquer that sickness. I hope to be normal again.
God Bless
Myrtle Jean Sharp
No comments:
Post a Comment