The calm after the storm

by Jackie Scott

The Friday night thunderstorm has passed and I awake to a glorious Saturday morning.  Weather permitting, one of my favorite weekend rituals is to leisurely  sip a hot cup of coffee in a comfortable chair on my back patio. The slate patio has dappled shade at this time in the morning and the strong trees that provide privacy and shade hold branches that are heavy and weighted from last nights thunder storm.  The branches are arched towards the ground and the rain is rolling off each leaf at a painstaking slow pace, one drop at a time.  As I reflect on the week behind me, I feel like like that big old elm tree grounded in my yard.  Strong, flexible and seeking balance after a terrible storm – one drop at a time.

Two strong, beautiful  women in my life  that I admire and love dearly are currently under going some medical  tests and in both cases the “C” word has been mentioned.  The “C” word always sends me into a tailspin.  I was in high school when my sister Kim was diagnosed with Luekemia.  Kim fought back hard with chemo, blood transfusions, radiation and “experimental”  bone marrow transplants.  She lost her battle on July 5, 1984, and to this day I lose myself with holding back tears  every time I think about her.  

Our family was large with 5 boys, 3 girls and Kim and I were 11 years apart.  When I was little, I was her “baby doll”.  She  would dress me up in frilly cloths and put bows on my very bald head so that I could never be mistaken as “one of the boys”.   When my parents divorced, Kim took on more of a motherhood role.  She took me for rides in the country in her car to escape the crazy disfunction at home,  treated me to  ice-cream sundaes when I got As  in school and told me about the “birds and the bees”. I  miss her so much.

The  filtered sun is now playing and dancing with the reflective little pools of water on my patio.  The birds are chirping and a butterfly has landed on the warm slate in a sunny spot  to dry  it’s wings.  His wings are glistening in the sun and appear extremely heavy with moisture. This graceful little creature is slowly opening and closing his wings  and I find watching him both rhythmic and soothing.  The weight of this past week feels a little lighter to me now.  I guess we all need to take some time to dry off our wings before we can take to the air again.

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One Response to The calm after the storm

  1. Cheryl says:

    Hi Cookie,
    I hope everything turned out to be good news and I hope all is well with you too! I enjoy reading your blog every chance I get.

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