Goodness gracious! I was just going to post summer pictures because I’m in Southern California but I’m supposed to post something that depicts my “own” season, as well. And since I’m no spring chicken, this was the best I could do from the depths of my iphone photo library!
When I was working in physical therapy, I remember how this one Physical Therapist in his late 20’s was pushing this middle-aged man to do certain exercises, and the patient said something that’s stayed with me since then.
“Twenty don’t know nothing about fifty.”
The PT laughed but to me, the older man was asking for respect for his own limitations based on his age. A 20-year old body will not have any idea what a 50-year old body will feel like, though that 50-year old will surely remember what it feels like to be 20. And now that I’m getting up there, those words always come back to me especially when I go to the gym and all the young guys and girls want to get me in tip top shape even after I finally told them that my doctor has put me on hypertension meds and I need to take it easy. I’ll still work out but don’t let me do freaking 20 sit-ups just because they can, and definitely not on my first day at the gym.
So, yeah, twenty don’t know nothin’ about fifty. Who knows, maybe the seaons are like that, too. How can summer know what winter feels like?
Somehow winter missed us here in Southern California, and this was the afternoon skies yesterday atop Hilltop Hill in Signal Hill, a city within Long Beach. We’d just had rain the night before and so the air felt really crisp and clean.
If you haven’t noticed, after years of the same theme, I finally updated it yesterday. Figured with the new year, a little change wouldn’t hurt 🙂
Look out your back window or door — describe what you see, as if you were trying to convey the scene to someone from another country or planet.
Through the back door of our house I see a cement wall,
and beyond it, children playing in a swimming pool
splashing and screeching with glee,
water, water, everywhere I see.
There’s the second floor balcony where Heather used to grill chicken and the cat would gaze down at me with such bored disdain
and on the far wall towards the back,
fish swimming about, this way and that.
But Heather’s gone now, and new folks have just moved in
No more fish, no more grill, no more cat on the window sill
Except for a man sipping coffee every morning
Saying, winter is over, here comes the spring.
The third floor balcony is filled with plants and flowers
Tomatoes sprouting, red hot peppers hanging ever lower
Ready for the picking, the usual eyes squinting
Watering from the heat, though there’s more for the picking.
It’s an interesting sight I see, just beyond my cement wall
Sometimes I just sit and watch, doing nothing at all
But listen to life go by, watch the neighbors putter on
This little corner of my world, my little babylon.
It’s a beautiful spring day
and outside, the birds are singing
The winds blow the clouds across the sky
in the air, the smell of rain now fading.
I feel the pain and uncertainty in your words,
even as the bright white sun shines above
I wish I could have enclosed you in a warm embrace just then,
infused that space between us with love
But we walked on, keeping up with the pace
of our beating hearts, and our hope-filled dreams
It’s a beautiful spring day outside, I know,
but your heart is full of worry. It’s ripping at the seams.