So, The Anniversary passed on Wednesday and I am entering my third year of navigating a New Normal.
I have to pause here in amazement and gratefulness for the wonderful friends who helped me mark that date. Cards were waiting for me at work. Flowers were delivered from friends from out of state. An old picture of D with our family arrived in the mail. (It was from our newlywed days; not the seven-year-marathon-of-cancer-and-loss days. The look in his eyes in that photo reminded me of those earlier, happier days that I have sometimes forgotten.) Calls, cards and texts from people who cared enough to mark July 13 on their calendar and reach out with love. Thank you, little village o' mine.
And last night? Another mark in the sand. Do you watch "Friday Night Lights" on television? It was D's and my favorite Friday night pass time. It was filmed in our area, and we had a few seven-degrees-of-separation with some of the local actors on the show. (And? Hello: it is about Texas football.)The actors, scripts, characters and filming were among the best on TV. (So, you know, let's just cancel it to make more room for bad reality shows, right?)
Anyway, last night was the series finale. 90 minutes of perfection that tied up five years worth of storylines. I laughed, I cried and I counted this among my favorite single episodes on television ever. When it was over, I posted my status on Facebook as "Goodbye, Dillion. You will be missed. Texas forever." I immediately could tell by the comments who followed the show ("I know. So sad!" and "All five seasons will rerun on ESPN Classics soon!") and who did not ("Who is Dillion? Where did he go? Is this like 'Where's Waldo'?"). I realized I have learned to bid good-bye with a smile on my face and a happy heart. That, my friends, is progress.
More progress? My limping along Grass Recovery Program in the month of 100+ degree days has produced growth that required the first need for a mower this summer. Except I no longer have a mower. I called my former grass company, from back in the salad days when the lawn actually needed to be cut every other week. The quote was staggering. Listen, if you took all the green spots and put them together, it would be a space the size of your living room. The rest of the lawn is held together by parched ground. There is no discount for amount of grass: it is figured strictly on size of lot. Drat.
I talked to a co-worker and she knew of some high school boys who could come right over. They arrived in the hottest part of the day and proceeded to mow, weed eat and blow my lawn into an orderly fashion that made it look hopeful for future growth. At the end, I asked for their price. It was a low ball figure. I paid them what the grass company had asked, because these fine young men were so worth it with their excellence. Hooray for parents who have raised their sons with such a great work ethic, and for teen aged boys who are willing to give up a Friday night to help out a stranger with their best efforts.
And now, a long, lazy weekend lies ahead of me. The possibilities are endless.
And the promises of God? They are "yes" and "amen."
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