Summer Goes
Sun., October 22, 05:48 PM
"They say that all good things must end some day, autumn leaves must fall..." Somehow I'm more aware of the end of summer this year. I began to notice that the sun wasn't getting me up -- not that I have to get up really early, but I never considered six that early.
Next thing I knew, I needed a sweater to go out and pick up the newspaper. It was time to close the windows and door at night. The basement became too cold to leave the dehumidifier on. I felt worse and worse as I realized that summer was over. I prefer summer, but I've never been that concerned before. I live in New England, and of course the seasons change.
However, this was the best summer I've experienced in some time. Two years ago I was in chemotherapy and then in radiation. Two years ago Husband also was very ill, and in between my own treatments I was worrying about him. And two years ago this month, I was having trouble driving to radiation treatments as it got darker and darker in the mornings; fortunately they ended then. Not a good summer that year.
Last summer I was feeling better certainly, which is how I managed to pull a lot of muscles trying to do all the stuff I had deferred for a year. No big deal -- except that was when I realized that, even though everything will heal, it takes a lot longer. That may be why I can't get my energy levels up. I've since learned that there's a medical name for the condition -- lower function reserve. It happens as one gets older. Darn -- that wasn't supposed to happen yet!
So this summer was good, in part because it was better than the last two. Feeling better, a little thinner, getting out of the house and acting like a real person. I even got to travel to Boston a couple of times.
Ellen Goodman, who writes for the Boston Globe, recently did a column about closing up her summer home and garden. They remove old plants, add to the compost heap, sow those vegetables that need to be planted in the autumn -- in short, she said, they act as if there really is the guarantee of a spring next year. I'm not sure I believe that guarantee any more.
As a matter of fact, I wrote this last week, but I was even depressing myself. I just cut out about half of it. Okay, so I'm not equipped to live with wackos, 'cause it's contagious. Somehow I will manage.
I keep reminding myself, my son is getting married in three weeks. It's the only uplifting fact I can come up with. I've got the dress, got the shoes, got the makeup, got the jewelry. There are still dozens of details to be addressed but -- most important -- we all have something to smile about.
