Letters from a Recluse in the Desert, Part 3 "Wispy clouds coming in like angel wings"
"Wispy clouds coming in like angel wings.
I bet we get rain in the night, which is just fine. Hope we get lots of snow this winter."
Gotta Love Lois!
My mom's cousin lives in an old metal-sided trailer in the desert, a few hours north of her favorite place on earth, the Grand Canyon. She raised five children who rarely visit her, but being a widow seems to suit her better than being a wife. Lois likes to be left alone, but she also loves to hear from far-flung friends and relatives. Before going blind last fall, she would write dozens of letters by hand, every week, to assorted penpals.
Losing those weekly letters hit me a lot harder than I ever imagined possible.
I confess, it sometimes felt like a chore to write her back with a letter or two a week, in this day and age of internet. Over the years, my penmanship has become as ghastly and illegible and hers, but we last-century letter writers are like the Enigma Code to our offspring. Lois has an adult son living with her, older than I am, but he will read letters to her only if they are printed or typed. No patience for that chicken scratching all these old women do. Now, I would gladly hand-write three letters a week to Lois, if only she still had the sight and good health to read them herself.
"Wispy clouds coming in like angel wings"
was one of my favorites.
October 23 - 2016
Hi Carol!
It is a sort of gusty cooling down, threat of rain by tonight, Sunday.
How is it there? I'm on my porch. Hummingbirds trying get nectar out of the bottle. They are feisty little critters aren't they!
I hear the Loud Speaker from the arena over a ways from here! I used to take Laura* (Lois's only daughter) and Sheba, her Palomino horse, to the gymchonas when she was young... I trained her to run barrels and ple bending. She was a wonderful horse. Laura was a good rider. Had an old truck and an old trailer and away we went! And now I'm old as the hills and very seldom go anywhere!
sourceAnd I've been sneaking Halloween candy.
I need to stop it my diabetes isn't going to tolerate it much longer, although I've been taking my blood sugar twice a day and it doesn't seem to make much difference!
Almost every letter after she turned 80 included confessions like that one. Lois and her sugar! Her Aunt Joanne, confronted at the dinner table for indulging in dessert despite her diabetes, famously shrugged and said, "Well, we've got to die of something," and reached for seconds.
That aunt lived to be nearly a hundred, as I recall. And the older these women in the family would get, the more assertive they became. In the same October letter, Lois wrote,
Someone asked me if I had an empty room so a teenage mother, her baby and her boyfriend could come here to live.
And I said NO! I'm too old.
Hopefully that's it!!
Have a beautiful day
and I'll talk to you later on down that long dusty road.
Lots of love,
Lois
There's a Phoenix Cardinal football game on tonight.
So I'll be glad when that comes on at 5:30 p.m.
It's devastating when they lose.
"I'll talk to you later on down that long dusty road."
That was her favorite closing line, one that is now a part of me, internalized and treasured.
source
Time for me to pick up the phone and give her a call. Her voice is as bright and cheerful as ever, in spite of that Thanksgiving Day scare when told me she's dying, and ready to go, and I believed her. The reality of losing Lois had me so rattled, all I could do was write a short story, Ashes and Acorns, inspired by her wish to be cremated and scattered over the Grand Canyon.
No matter how eccentric or blunt and opinionated the old women in your life may be, they mean more to you than you may know. Sometimes, for the unwise, it is only in losing them that we realize how much they matter to us.
I was granted a reprieve, a second chance, and now I only wish the "chore" of writing back still came at me three times a week. Lois has taught me so many things, and someday, the wisdom and lilting, lyrical voice of a recluse in the desert will have to come to life in my fiction.
And if nobody reads it but me, that's all right. Someone else, later on down that long dusty road, might find Lois in my fiction and treasure her as I do.
A Little Valentine's Day Miracle: Letters from a Recluse in the Desert, Part One
https://steemit.com/mindfulness/@carolkean/5ygy2e-a-little-valentine-s-day-miracle-letters-from-a-recluse-in-the-desert-part-two
art and flair courtesy of @PegasusPhysics
wonderful post full of love and nature's beauty, thank you for sharing with us this beautiful pictures which delight our heart <3
Thank YOU for reading and commenting!
Welcome to Steemit, Hanae! Just found your intro post, https://steemit.com/introduceyourself/@hanae.taybi/hello-steemit-my-first-time-posting-today ,
I used to blog a lot, and write a lot, about things that people cared about. And I want to get back to doing that. I want to stop making blogging all about getting clicks and getting money and all that crap and get back to just doing what I love. I hope we can continue to grow together. I know I have a lot more to say, and I hope you’re ready to hear it.
Yes - I am ready to hear it! :-)
million thanks Dear... I am going to post many blogs soon <3 <3
A life coach! Looking forward to your words of wisdom.
I already treasure her, so that deed is done, mission accomplished. ;-)
"That aunt lived to be nearly a hundred, as I recall. And the older these women in the family would get, the more assertive they became."
Yes. This. In our youth, my sisters and I, not to mention our mom, were too often people pleasers, and too seldom inclined to honor ourselves rather than being walked on.
But getting older is in many ways an amazing and wonderful thing, and Carol and I both found that, after we turned fifty, neither of us gave much of a damn what other people thought any more. Take me or leave me, your choice, and either one is okay with me.
Oh, to have had that freedom in my youth. ;-)
I wish I had written my mom as often as you have written Lois. But, like so many of us, even though I was an inveterate letter writer in my youth, I allowed myself to get out of the habit, even though it would have meant a lot to her, and to others I loved and have since lost.
I wrote a poem years ago, called "Writing Letters," which I'll post in response to this post, which speaks directly to that.
Have an amazing and wonderful day!
Every post, every reply, you pack full of so many great things, I can't respond to it all, Cori!
For too many women, it takes a half century of people-pleasing before we realize we've got to please ourselves. We are indoctrinated to be nice. Saying no is so much harder than it should be, so we say yes to hardships others are all too willing to inflict on us. Looking forward to your poem, Writing Letters!
My husband's Aunt Freda lived to be 104 and she was a treasure. Her mind was a sharp as a tack and the kids and grandkids loved visiting for the stories of her life. And for her ever full of homemade candy dish! She has a sweet tooth too. These folks are a treasure and we should keep their stories alive for future generations. It did seem that they were a feisty lot!
Most of these people survived The Great Depression, a world war, lean times, good times, and the privations of a world without internet. Many remember life before TV and radio. I grew up thinking we were so high-tech, but now our children's era laughs at a world before cell phones, texting, social media... I am a primitive! I'd love to have known your Aunt Freda. My grandma Frieda (German) made it to 97. Can't say the five granddaughters "loved" visiting her, but after she was gone (I was in my 30s), it dawned on me that not all grandmas are about hugs, warm fuzzies, stories and consolations. Our grandma taught us to "man up" and take our lumps, to make do with less, and to bring her flowers before she dies, not at her funeral. She was stern and cold and I never dreamed I'd miss her so much.
I enjoy spirited and assertive old women.. i am one without being very old lol
"An old soul" - you are wise for years.