This morning I almost didn’t make it out of bed again. Friday arrived while I slept and settled in with no particular mood. It was simply here, sitting in the Friday chair. I couldn’t find the anchors that were lost yesterday morning, so I had to make do with an improvised set that looked nothing like the ones I’ve manage to patch together over the past few months. Emotions resisted every forward motion of my foot. Shower on, music loud, 6a.m. no sunshine yet. Today I will make my own coffee then I will go listen to the sounds of Friday settling in for the day. Perhaps my garden will not recognize me and refuse to share their secrets.
The heartbreak and horror of this tragedy has reared its stupid fucking head. I’ve been splashing about in those day one and two murkiest of waters the past few days. “You cannot lay in bed again today”, I told myself, and turned around to find the shore, pushing against the tears and sorrow and heartache that wouldn’t go away. Water whistles on the stove then I watched it drip from the filter into my coffee cup and finally, I wandered to the garden. Today I am listening to the random recordings he used to make late at night, guitar in hand, trying to find some sort of happiness somewhere in the night. Anyway, sometimes I find it soothing even though it breaks my heart without a doubt. Today the sorrow I felt outweighed any sorrow I would feel from listening to the recordings. These are the days when the sound of his voice singing brings comfort because any sorrow that tags along is no match for the heartbreak that grips my heart.
Anyway, I’m in the garden, he’s telling nobody in particular that he’s going to “burn up this A string”, and then I saw it – the first blooms of muhly grass and all that sorrow was forced to step aside as the absolute joy found in those few meager blooms took over the space in my heart. How do simple blooms bring so much peace and joy? I had resigned myself to accept that the pink muhly may not bloom this year. I haven’t visited the garden for several days. Fucking work, I wont say more. And there they were, the blooms; simple, unpretentious, easily missed. But I saw them and they are absolutely stunning in my opinion. Now the sorrow has a more proportional share of the space because muhly grass bloomed overnight. Who knew muhly grass blooms could change the course of a day.
4 thoughts on “Muhly Grass Blooms”
If you ever need someone to chat with, let me know. I am a widow too, but for different reasons.
LikeLiked by 1 person
I’m sorry you lost your spouse too. It’s like living in a different world, at least it is for me right now. idk if it ever changes.
LikeLiked by 1 person
I know what you mean about feeling like your in a “different world”. It takes time to get over this feeling. A lot of time.
A redemption and story beautiful pictures… That’s a fucking good day!