(Ramblings in the sense of musings, following random thoughts, not actually walking about the neighborhood or woods. More detritus. Long post, skip it if you like - I won't know.)
I have been wished a Merry Christmas, received hopes that I'll have a good one, by many this season, most of them friends, or, at least, friendly acquaintances; all such good wishes are sincerely appreciated and remembered. One stranger said to me last evening, as I was scraping snow off my truck before heading home, and he was headed to a church across the street, that he hoped I would have a happy holiday. He sounded as though he truly wished me a few moments of happiness. For some reason, I was deeply moved by his wish, and would have asked to hug him, had I not been so inhibited. There was a touch of melancholy in his voice, and a tenderness unexpected under the circumstances. A gift, received with gratitude and treasured for its sincerity.
Tomorrow morning, a man I work with will, no doubt, ask if I had a good Christmas, in the same 'make-talk' way he asks how I am doing. I used to try to answer him honestly, then realized he wasn't really interested in knowing, just acting a part he seems to think a man in his position needs to play. Two weeks ago, when he asked me the same thing, I answered, "Fine as frog hair. And you?"
"Well, good," he answered. "I'm doing well, too." Didn't bat an eye, lift an eyebrow, or in any other way acknowledge there was anything different being exchanged. I think I could have told him I'd lost my right leg that morning and was standing there bleeding to death, and he would have said, "Well, good. I'm doing well, too."
So, what will I tell him tomorrow? About the stranger in our parking lot from the night before Christmas?
Will I tell my boss of the young hawk that for the last two days has alighted in trees outside my back door and called to its parents? That sat in the trees, ignoring my walking about trying to spy him, until a parent finally answered and he flew off?
It is so rare to hear young hawks, or adults, come to think of it, in my yard. I know there is a mated pair that live in a neighbor's trees, behind my property. This summer, one of the parents was calling in a shrill, persistent manner - sounded almost like a rabbit's distress cry, which is why I went to the backdoor to see if a feral cat had caught one of the babies from the warren back at the barn. Instead of a cat, I found an adult Cooper's hawk covering something larger than a baby rabbit, and grey, held tightly in its talons. The hawk looked at me, but stayed put, crying out again. I was only a few feet from the bird, but I froze in step, and it tolerated my presence. As I stood still, another bird, a Cooper's, but with juvenile markings, flew right in front of my face. I felt the wind from its wings, was almost touched by its flight feathers. What a thrill! What joy, to come so close to 'touching the wild.'
And then, to have (I am certain) that same juvenile hawk, its breast still streaked with teardrop-shaped spots of russet-brown, come visit me at this bleak time, lightening my mood by stirring those summertime memories.
Still another gift, for which I also am grateful and which also is treasured.
Will I tell him that the annual bonus I received went to repair my truck, instead of getting a gift for my grandson, and food for our holiday dinner? Will I tell him the sadness I felt when I had to explain the situation to Donovan, and the heartbreak that made me cry when he said, "It's okay, Nanny. I know these are hard times for you. It doesn't matter." This boy, for he is most of the time a young boy, emotionally and socially, lives for Christmas and all the trimmings. That childlike anticipation and joyfulness on his part has helped me get through some very tough holidays in the last few years. This child, albeit a young man of 20 years, hindered in his life by autism and the ignorance of those not afflicted with or affected by this incurable disorder, wanted me not to feel sad.
Another gift, received with deepest gratitude and treasured beyond measure because of the concern and love with which it was given.
When I went over to their apartment this morning for brunch, he asked if we were going to be able to go see all the "pretty lights," like we always do. I assured him we would, but I'd have to wait until I received my paycheck tomorrow, and put gas in the truck. We usually go after Christmas dinner, which should have been tonight, but the Jimmy ate my bonus. We put off Christmas until this coming Sunday, so we'll go through the neighborhoods looking at lights then. And we will stop for hot chocolate - maybe twice, this year. (Yes, Ken, we still do the "pretty lights" thing, with Donovan doing your part.)
If he asks me tomorrow, I think I will tell my self-involved boss that I probably have had the best Christmas of my life.
"Well, good! I am doing well, too."
11 comments:
Render unto the boss what belongs to the boss. Pleasantries, social tokens. He doesn't deserve more.
You deserve more, and you got heartfelt greetings, enough money to fix the truck, a loving grandson, and the hawk family shared a moment of trust with you. Because you have the eyes to see and the heart to feel.
Enough money makes it all so much easier, but without that willingness to love, there is no way for it to work. I wish you had more, for the sake of comfort, sufficiency. But you already have so much love.
Martha
I was one of those who hoped that you had a good christmas. We say those things to people, meaning well, but sometimes they are ill-placed. They are usually automatic, generic things that are said. It that sense, they are meaningless, and can cause pain. I don't know how else to be, I was raised to be polite, and say the things I'm told appropriate.
I hope I can count myself as your friend. I'd like to be, you seem like someone I'd like.
Zhoen's response was spot-on, except for the fact that money, or the lack of it, can rule our lives.
A day, a week late, it's ok, if we keep foremost in our minds that it's the love of our family that keeps us going.
Take care, my friend.
Mike
I always like to read what you write, even when it has elements of sadness, as this post does. You write without a single wasted word, and you have that gift of saying much beneath the words, of letting us see what you see.
I wish life could be easier for you, and for all who struggle during the Christmas season, both financially and emotionally. Probably that's many more people than appears on the surface.
Yes, as Zhoen said so well. I've often thought the same about these 'how are you' questions, trying to judge whether to answer 'fine' or more. Yet, it is nicer than no contact at all and sometimes we're lucky to meet someone who really listens and cares. I hope you will meet more carers, like yourself and your grandson. Heartfelt wishes for joy on your late Christmas. Take care.
From your comments, I see I need to edit my post, which I'll do before responding to your very kind comments.
This is a very moving and heartfelt post, Martha. I enjoyed reading it. The story about the hawk was amazing! I wish you all the best in the new year.
I'm not sure we do the Cooper's Hawk in the UK and I trawled it in Google Images. Loved the barred design on its tail, slightly representatative of the Peregrine Falcon which is my favourite here. Best of all, both are free.
During our last few months in the USA, when my employer was going down the toobs, we too depended on free entertainment. Rabbit Road was one: a huge warren occupying a 20 ft high bank on one side of a dirt road. At any time fifty rabbits would be visible completely oblivious to the passage of our VW Squareback. Better than TV I told my daughters and they, perforce, had to agree.
Plus the greatest suburban show of all which you have already touched on - Christmas lights. At first I thought it was a sign of American competitiveness, people outdoing their neighbours. Later I became slightly less cynical and told myself that the effort that had gone into these displays was for everyone's benefit. Not that it mattered. It left a deep impression on our youngest, Occasional Speeder, she of dual-nationality, and we spent Christmas Eve this year at her place gathered round the table helping to deify melted cheese. The system is called raclette - popular in ski resorts in Europe. Not sure it crossed the Atlantic
Sorry about the cramping effects of lack of dough. Hard to feel festive under those circumstances. Good to know that you keep on trying. All the best, dear Crow.
I for one would be sorry if you edited this post. It seems to me have a harsh but beautiful ring of truth about it. An honest Christmas story which I rather think I will treasure. I particularly enjoyed the "boss" with his reflex small talk. That's something I have often encountered. Ii is the sort of politeness which we could do without.
You write with such heart wrenching grace and beauty, my friend. I loved the story about the hawk, your co-worker's inability to connect, the man in the parking lot and his honest good wishes, and most beautiful of all, sweet Donovan's understanding. I wish I could give all of you hugs and make everything better. Your gift of integrity is something I will long remember.
All:
Thank you for your kind remarks and your good wishes.
It was thoughtless of me not to acknowledge in my original post that I appreciated those good wishes, and that I knew them to be sincere. I apologize and hope you can forgive my oversight.
In reading your comments and re-reading my post, I realize that the message of the post, if there is one, was lost in the details. I was too lost in my less than merry mood to see that my words didn't convey what I felt, or wanted them to say.
I was still feeling down because I couldn't do what I wanted to for my daughter and grandson for the holiday. For some reason, I thought about my boss and the way he doesn't listen to what I say. That led to me thinking about Christmas, what it has seems to have come to mean in our society, what gifts mean, why we feel we need to give them - all sorts of things one sometimes feels when your mind is off on a squirrel-chase.
That led me to examine what I think gifts are, and their value to me. Then my thoughts turned to the 'gifts' I had received just that day.
The stranger in the parking lot, his tone of voice and the unexpected nature of his wish, made me stop feeling sorry for myself long enough to wonder about the touch of sadness in his voice and the tenderness in his wishes to a total stranger. He was with his son, a kid of about 7 years, no other family members in sight. They were late, he said to his son, as he hurried the boy along. He sounded sad, not angry or frustrated. Yet he took a moment from whatever was happening in his life to hope somebody else would have a good holiday. His gift was kindness and it took me out of my mood of despair and regret. I needed that, and it was like the proverbial dash of cold water in the face. It can seem like a gift sometimes when you are lost in despair to have something snap you out of it, to help you remember that your plight isn't the only problem in the world and you probably have more blessings than you realize.
The birds this summer were a gift from Nature, which I usually don't see, or I take for granted. To have that young hawk sitting in my trees those two days in a row, reminded me how fortunate I am, living in an urban setting, to still be graced by the presence of the wild, close enough to touch, sometimes, what Bil Gilbert called "Other Bloods."
Autistic children have difficulty putting themselves in other people's shoes, in understanding the feelings of others. Thus it has been with my grandson for most of his 20 years. His gift of empathy, while sad because I know how much he loves the holiday, meant that he is learning to feel compassion and kindness when others disappoint him. Some autistic children never reach that level of development. There have been times when his mother and I wondered if he would. It seems that he has found his way.
I'm sorry I didn't write all of this the first time around. I was trying not to make a novella of my post, but I could have written it better.
Thank all of you for reading with your hearts and not just your eyes to get what I was saying.
Zhoen and Mike, I hope you received the emails. Much love to you both.
And to you all: Thank you very much for your friendship.
Man, I hope we all have very happy new years! We're due them, don't you think?
Nicely said, my friend. Life can be so very difficult but if, just once in a while, we glimpse another's heart the pain can be washed away.
Post a Comment