as perennial as the grass | reverse threading

it’s an octave. though it is not obvious to most and though it is difficult to see, it is an octave. well, slightly more than an octave, actually. d to d and then e and f. f# too. there are still 88 keys, even aged. still 88 keys, even devoid of their black and whiteness. still 88 keys, even in their new patina. still 88 keys, even though some may now be missing. it is still a piano. its soul is intact.

my sweet momma has been gone seven years today. seven.

the other day, in a group text with some dear friends, i read one friend’s response to a question from another about whether she was home. “not home yet,” she wrote. “went to visit mom.” it stopped me in my tracks and i stood still for a moment. those words – “went to visit mom” – were powerful moment-freezers. time suspended just for a few seconds as i pondered what it would be like to be able to write those words – “went to visit mom”.

i know that i was fortunate. my sweet momma was almost-94 when she died. and i was 56, so almost six decades of me sharing the same plane of existence. her life was inspiring and i was lucky to have her cheering for me in every success, in every travail. she was steady and a rock who was always there, whether or not, in different phases of my life, i recognized it. it was true for me that there was no one who was a bigger cheerleader for me – she had pompoms out the moment i was born and never hesitated to use them. and, as is true for most of us, i’m quite certain there were times i took that for granted, took her for granted.

“went to visit mom.” wow. what i would give to have minutes, hours, days with her. to seek her wisdom, watch her enthusiasm, see the glint in her eyes and hear her laugh, coffeesit with her, have a giant bowl of pasta fagioli or a big slab of crumbcake or some silly adventure. to feel enormous unconditional love. to hug her. to be hugged by her.

“neither be cynical about love; for in the face of all aridity and disenchantment, it is as perennial as the grass.” (desiderata)

barney will reside in our backyard for a long time to come. this gorgeous instrument will continue to be worn by weather and the elements. its keys will fall off, the wood laminate will peel. it will still be a piano and each octave will still be an octave.

my sweet momma, i know, is the same. she is still there, as perennial as the grass. i know her love supersedes my loss of her.

maybe sometime today i’ll go out by barney. i’ll take a candle and light it. and i’ll text d, upstairs in the office working, “went to visit mom”.

*****

LEGACY

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read DAVID’S thoughts this K.S. FRIDAY

LEGACY from RELEASED FROM THE HEART ©️ 1995 kerri sherwood

“neither be cynical about love; for in the face of all aridity and disenchantment, it is as perennial as the grass.” (desiderata, max ehrmann 1927)

i would venture to say that, for many, this is a time of spiritual aridity and woeful disenchantment. unconsolable worry, uneasiness, disillusionment, fear…pervasive as the humidity of early morning summer fog, the dew of late evening. we wait for the breeze to start to blow off the sticky and cool us down.

we speak up, for the winds of change will dispel our disease, our unease, our social injustice ill-at-ease. we stand, with love, at the ready to make it happen. we confront that which is not true, that which is harmful, hateful, that which is fear-mongering, that which incites violence and inequality among any and all people. for this we reap not benefits; instead we accumulate pervasive pushback, accusation, derision.

but love is, truly, as perennial as the grass. love will always lead the way out of aridity and disenchantment. love waits on the sidelines of the arena filled with division and hatred, ready to flow into the cracks. it’s our job as decent humans to create the cracks.

“and whatever your labors and aspirations, in the noisy confusion of life, keep peace in your soul. with all its sham, drudgery and broken dreams, it is still a beautiful world.”

the “noisy confusion of life” punctuates our day with its rat-a-tat of false information, its innuendo, its delivery of agenda, its acrimony, its selfish serving of egos. the “sham, drudgery and broken dreams” are all around us.

and so is this beautiful world.

we walk past the pond, the wind on our faces. the grasses on the side beckon us to peek through. water lilies polka-dot the clear water. perennial as the sun, the morning and the dusk, the water lilies aerate the pond and keep the algae on the surface at a minimum, peacefully offering shelter to smaller sized fish.

but like many things that might look good on the surface, that might be aesthetically pleasing, that might speak to your individual soul, it is wise to be aware of the true qualities of water lilies and the perennials pondweed or yellow floating heart, plants that closely resemble them. many shockingly invasive, they can quickly take over, without others even noticing, choking out the life of the pond.

“for the world is full of trickery…”

read DAVID’S thoughts this FLAWED WEDNESDAY

*all quotes from desiderata by max ehrmann

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“went to visit mom.” [k.s. friday]

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