Shadows

It has been quite some time since I blogged. There's no large excuse, not even the perfunctory, "I haven't had time." The truth is, I am in conflict. What do I blog about? The truth, the positive, the good, the icky, or is it better to just not and carry on. I opted for the latter.

My very small minute corner of the world has entered summer. The vineyards are fat with baby grapes and lots of foilage. The cherries and my beloved strawberries were a bust this year, and my farmer friends are dipping into their crop insurance.

Graduation was all graduation was supposed to be. The teenager received his diploma or folder and wore his gold cord signifying his lifetime CSF status. Underneath his red robe, he was screaming his independence from tyranical parents and shouting about the freedom of college and life away from our small cocoon. I did not cry. I have cried a lot lately, but not because of graduation.

The big bro came home and savored little bro's accomplishments with us and we celebrated at the Lodi Beer Company. You know I have never ordered or have drunk a beer? I really don't know why except that an old boyfriend used to drink beer continually and the smell brings back a lot of very weird and icky memories. I had a cider. It was good and close to a beer. I will be ordering a beer soon.

Life continued to throw curves and I have watched the shawdows. Mama used to warn me about the shadows. I always loved them. They played tricks on you and they always were beautiful. I especially loved the morning shadows and the early evening shadows. I know now at the wise old age of flippin' 53, she in her Irish wisdom, was pleading with me to be cautious about the shadows of life. 2 days ago I sat alone in the silence of my home in my front office. It has always been the place where "the boys" go to communicate on the computer, play Playstation, hang out, spend the night, or even wrestle. I watched the shadows. The afternoon delta breezes were wreaking havoc with my river burch trees, and the plantation blinds threw vertical frames to their eclectic hip hop steps. Light danced with each gyration of its intricately delicate branches. Shadows formed and disappeared quickly and quietly on the wall underneath the toy truck. Shadows. Life's shadows. Are there secrets? Is there light in a shadow? What have you learned flippin' watermom? Do your children live in a shadow of your memory, or in the brillance of the west sun? Gee, flippin' watermom, what now? What is in your open palm? Who is running ahead of you, beside you, behind you? " I have a little shadow, who runs in and out with me; and what can be the use of him, is more that I can see." Who are they flippin' watermom, and what is the use of you? Am I the shadow, or are they? Ma, if you can hear me in heaven, uh, I could use an bit of the Irish wisdom, here. I'm not sure how to react with all of the knowledge that I have regarding all my family, the mister, the older crowned one, and the teenage shadow of my heart. This was the time of your life when you ran away, ma. I'm not sure how to react, or do I run away, too? I know I am trying very hard to acknowledge the light, the darkness, the shadows, in a realistic proactive way. Yeah, so far, it's pretty miserable. When I asked my big bro about the shadows, he didn't know all the answers either. He did know they brought truth, and he told those truths to me. I'm not sure I wanted to know them. Shadows build walls. Some of them protect your heart and some of them make it easy for you to peek into the abyss, or the future. I still love the light of the shadows. My big bro used to paint them on the walls of his home. As the days changed, as the seasons changed, the shadows changed. They never were the same. "What can be the use of them is more than I can see."

Stay in neutral, flippin watermom, and pull down the filtering blinds. Let in the light, the truth, the sweetness, and the life.