March 12, 2009: I skipped yoga class today. Sorry, Yogini Sue. When it was time to go, I was sitting in the sun playing my newly tuned piano, free of the dogs for once because they’re in the kennel while the concrete around the new fence posts hardens. I decided it was more important to sit in the sun, to hear those sweet notes, to eat leftover crab pizza now when I’m hungry, to read in the sun and drink my iced tea the way I used to do before the dogs came, to study those steel fence posts that mark the boundaries of my new dogs’ new home.
I need a day for healing. Yesterday was very difficult. Our visit to my husband’s neurologist in Corvallis brought many tears. Fred wants to come home, but the doctor confirmed that he needs to stay in the care home. I can’t give him the care he needs. The man I used to know is gone, robbed of himself by Alzheimer’s Disease, but I still feel his pain as well as my own loss.
I’m looking forward to shoveling the dirt unearthed by the posts, flattening out the holes my dogs have dug, smoothing out my yard. It’s a day to savor, a quiet meditation. This is what I need to do today, play the piano, letting the music fill my soul with sweet sounds, let the sun dry my tears and warm my heart, let the good physical labor test my muscles and make me stronger despite my recent birthday.
Today is a day to look around, eyes washed clean by so many tears and see beauty, not struggle. It’s a day to feel the sun, smell the roses, hear the music, watch the robins, let the dirt scatter over my boots, feel the rough edges of the shovel against my hands.
I have done all I can for my husband and my dogs. It’s time for me.
I will do yoga again soon. Today I will do this instead. Namaste.
Unleashed in Oregon 