For Everything There is a Season

It never fails. The seasons change and I become like a woman possessed. First, the garden.  As soon as the snow melts in spring and a frost seems unlikely, I’m off to the garden center for pansies and snapdragons. Autumn returns and I plant bulbs, cut back the perennials and rake out the beds.

Indoors, it’s time to switch seasonal clothing, replace our flannel sheets and air out all the rooms. Six months later, the process is reversed. Not every year, but from time to time, I’ll attack my file cabinet. This past fall, it became a major endeavor.

Having moved twice in the last four years, my file drawers contained dozens of old documents pertaining to our two former homes: manuals for long-gone appliances, some dating back to 1995; receipts for stuff-too much stuff-that we no longer owned.

I set to the task. The stack of old files grew steadily. I replaced them with current documents and records that had been piled on my desk and on the floor for far too long.  Mission finally accomplished, I scanned through the drawers, checking that all had been placed correctly, when something became very clear.

Under “D” there had been “Drama class”.  It was no longer there, but “Dental Records” was. “E” had included flight information, hotel reservations and brochures from a trip to England eight years ago. Now there was a new one: “Eyes” pertaining to two recent cataract procedures. The sequence ended with “F”, no longer with a file about furniture, (given away long ago), but a fairly thick file with many documents about my “Feet”.

I had to laugh, (so as not to cry!)  Do “Dental, Eyes and Feet” tell my story at this time of life, as I approach my 80^th birthday?  Will this be my legacy? All issues about my body?  Yes, I believe it will. Yet only in part.

Moving on to “G” I saw  “Garden Ideas” still there, as is “Grandchildren’s Art”.  Further on, another sequence holds “Opera Class”, “Passport” and “Retreats”, promising possible future adventures, followed by “Sacred Art”,  storing ideas for classes I will teach.

So it seems that my file cabinet, in one sense, reflects who I am right now.  Signs of aging along with promises of travel and areas of interest and expertise.

A friend once remarked that the reason many of us retire in our sixties and seventies is in order to have time for all our doctors’ appointments. As true as that is, and as important for my own health and the consideration of my family, what I hope for now in whatever time I have left here on earth is a balance between responsible health care and activities that stimulate me to keep learning new things, contributing to my community and supporting the causes that I value.

And finally, as the very wise Mary Oliver advises: “Keep some room in your heart for the unimaginable.”