Metaphors make the real world so much more palatable.
My doggie and that cancer scare? Oh she dodged a bullet.
What about those wildfires? Like living next to a sleeping giant.
My sick mom? As my family convenes (and for the first time in years chills out with some wine and conversation) I see a silver lining. Don’t you?
If metaphors aren’t in your daily toolkit, consider yourself lucky. It probably means your dog is three not thirteen, your mom is still playing golf, or you live far from the threat of forest fires. And if you are that person whose puppy is with your mom today, as she plays a round of golf, in the desert. I want to be you.[/vc_column_text]
It was a hell of a July. And a wackier August. Lots of miles driven. Fewer hours of sleep. The good news is I survived. And now work, play and responsibility are sorting themselves out.
Life looks more normal today than it has in weeks. On a hot day last week Meg and I kayaked upriver to the forks, letting the wind push us around and staring aimlessly into the sun; we seem to always find time to hike the Myrtle Creek trail with Molly; and we discovered a hidden bottle of homemade blackberry liqueur we brewed up our first summer on the Smith. Still tasty after all these years.
There’s been some chaos and some concerns but you’ll never read it in the faces of guests. The smiles this summer seem to have grown. I’ve hosted repeat guests, referrals and close friends of friends. Now, work seems more like play. Once again, joy is sneaking into the mix. Love saves the day.
[A coda to the melodrama: the dog survived her surgery (the cancer scare was only a scare) and now thrives. My mother struggles but she still ekes out a conversation and a joke on the phone. And the fire lines are holding, at least temporarily. It could be worse.]