I got so technologically rusty that I had to call my grandson to help me get back to the blog composition page! He has a degree in computer science, but I think my eight-year-old granddaughter could have gotten there for me, too. Why is it that children catch on to technology so quickly and it is like Greek to we older folks? It seems that Google had thrown my password in the trash for lack of use.
I did do a little work on short items while I was ailing, especially after the hospital visit and a change in my prescriptions. That's when my health began to improve. Seems I had developed an allergy to the sulfer in my medications, and sulfer is the culprit in the blistering disease. I say "is" because I'm now labelled "allergic" to it.
I considered not raising a garden this year, but which is harder and which is less productive, keeping weeds down or growing food? I chose to grow food--with kind help getting the plot ready by men from my church. My 2014 garden has already produced lettuce, radishes, and cabbages, and zucchini has begun to flood the neighborhood. The ants (which I can't seem to get rid of) are scurrying about, but they haven't bit me this year, knock on wood.
In late spring I began writing again in earnest by preparing three entries to the Idaho Writers League annual contests. I have won many prizes in those contests, so I have hopes to take some places in them again. During my illness, I wrote sporadically, and my article about Camp Floyd State Park in Utah came out in the August/September issue of Idaho Senior Independent. Seeing the published article rivaled the check in how good it made me feel.
And now I'm Back and ready to share.
Sometime during this difficult time, I turned my special feeling about marriage into a poem, perhaps inspired by my husband's dash with me to the ER and constant attendance at my side while there. It follows:
A Marriage Metaphor
Getting married is like jumping into a swimming pool together:
There you will keep each other from drowning in loneliness
And protected from forces that try to pull you under.
Love is fragile:
Submerged in your pool of love,
Buoy each other up with tender, caring hands.
In this pool where the husband and wife share everything,
Let nothing or no one push you out of your place,
Not even your children.
As you are blessed by God,
Bless each other with your goodness
And celebrate the pool that surrounds you
Replenishing this treasure from heaven with love
To keep it filled
My usual practice is to revise/rewrite/edit anything I write many times before presenting it to public view. However, "A Marriage Metaphor" appears above exactly as I first wrote it. It came from my heart. It is honest. Perhaps it lacks in poetic devices, but I think I shall leave it as is. I hope it gives readers of my blog a certain insight into who I am and the very long relationship my husband and I share.