Q & A

Abraham Lincoln:
And in the end, it’s not the years in your life that count. It’s the life in your years.


I love to weed my gardens. There’s something peaceful about sitting outside in the fresh air, yanking on ugly green things until they release their hold in the earth. The big weeds are difficult because they’ve matured and have had so much time to course their way through the soil. The little weeds are even more of a pain because they are young and hard to grasp and difficult to pull out completely. If you leave any root, those suckers will grow back with  vengeance.
I spent the better part of the morning weeding and I got to thinking about my life.
Do I need to go back into therapy? I have so many questions. Why am I perceived as being immature and an embarassment to people who love me? Am I really drinking like a 20-year old and, if not, what is too much? Am I really mean, and if not, why do I say such mean things? Is it wrong to want to feel young? Is it wrong to want to try new things and experience new adventures? Should I just accept that I’ve lived my life and the only thing left to do is die? Am I hurting people I love by my behavior? Am I hurting myself?
Am I angry, depressed, happy? Is it wrong to wonder what comes next?
I couldn’t answer any of those questions but I pondered them for a long time. The yanking and pulling made me think of things I could change. The prettiness of the now weedless flowerbeds made me want to be a better person.
I thought about my mom and how she glowed when people told her she didn’t look her age – and she didn’t and I don’t. She was a classy broad, my mom. She wanted to look her best and even in death, she was beautful and in my mind, she is as pretty as those days when she asked me “How do I look, Peg?” and, gosh, she did look pretty.
Is there much difference in the way she drank and the way I drink? or the reasons?
Do I hoard things because, like my mother, I’m a bit of a pack rat? Or are those shoe boxes full of ticket stubs and programs and birthday cards so that I never forget how I felt when I had those experiecnes?
Is it time to change jobs? Is it time to change careers? Would I rather have stayed home and raised my son?
I can’t answer a lot of these questions. I can ask them and think about them? I can hope that I am a better person for asking these questions and considering the answers.
Like my niece who asks, “Do you love me or my baby brother more?”, I can pray that in articulating the questions, the answers will be easier to accept – that maybe there is no right answer and that only time will tell. Or that the answer may be different on any given day.



Filed under Gardening, Life

12 responses to “Q & A

  1. Heather

    Nice post.

  2. I’m sensing a lot of introspection these days…

  3. DAD

    You are what you are for many reasons. Thank God, most of the good things, you learned from Mom.
    All is well, you ruminate for years trying to figure out if you went wrong and if you did when did you go wrong. My answer keeps coming back,,, you do what you do at the time you do it, because it seems right to do at that time. If you want to live in the past, you bury yourself in self fagellation. Now is the time. Pop said, “I can’t change yesterday, I don’t know if I’ll be here tomorrow, so I better do what’s right for me today”. Of course he said it in Italian , so it sounded much more profane, but I realize , it’s no more profane in Italian, as it is in English,,,, so Honey, do what’s right for Peg Today, and let tomorow, worry about tomorrow.
    I love you ,

  4. DAD

    profound,,, not profane.

  5. spanky

    every time i see your avatar, i see a state trooper getting ready to arrest me. shiney cop glasses

  6. I know I’m not an alcoholic… I just worry sometimes that I have pain that goes away after a few pints.

  7. Peg, you’re an Artisan type. You people thrive on adventure. You love to mix it up. You might sometimes say mean things to get a rise out of people and push their buttons. You’ve probably always done this. But I suspect that to you, that’s just part of the rush of the adventure of life.

    Woman, be who you are. Embrace it! Other people can enforce the rules or contemplate their navels or expand string theory. You get to live life and make music and make people laugh and inject the fun into everyone’s life. People envy that. You don’t have to be more of anything. Your Pegness is perfect.

  8. There are still some things that need to be worked on. I’m far from complete. Thanks for the affirmation.

  9. I don’t know that I’d enjoy you as much if you weren’t who you are. I’m attracted to people like you. My mother was once light-hearted and free and adventurous. She knew no boundaries and acted like a teen in her forties. I’m walking in her footsteps.

    I wear low-riders with a collection of gay, black babydoll t-shirts that I pluck from the junior section when no one is looking. A month ago, I declared to start dressing my age. But I stopped myself. Because I’ve got to be me.

    I can be mean, too. But I’ve cultivated it into my persona so people who must work with me or come in contact with me take me with a grain of salt when I explode into a million peices over things not working out the way I wanted them to.

    I loved this post. It was awesome. I’m sorry it took me so long to read it. Time is not cheap around here, and most often, hard to come by. I was waiting for my house to fall silent because when I saw the weeds at the top, I knew this puppy was going to speak to me.

  10. Oh, and thanks for inspiring my most recent rant.

  11. I think maybe the reason I had the courage to post this is because of you and Spank and Heather and Cappy and Julie – my new blogging buddies. I just wanted you all to know that even though I have the wisdom of my age, I don’t know it all and am far from complete.
    I also wanted people to realize that at every age, we question and constantly re-work ourselves. I hope I’ll be better person for having shared.
    I know I misunderstood my mom as I was growing up and missed some opportunities when she tried to share some of her stuff. I thought she was weak and I pitied her. I hurt her too because I was the oldest and I pulled away from her.
    In the end, and maybe a little too late, I realized her strength and her constancy. Every time I’m feeling out of sorts, I reach for the phone only to realize she’s not there to call anymore. So I say a prayer and blow her a kiss.
    Maybe this is the makings of another post.
    In any case, I was deeply honored when I clicked to you blog this morning and re-read my words. Your post touched me today, too, Sissy. It really made me miss Mom but more important, really made me appreciate all of her that is part of me still.

  12. Thanks, Peg. This is good stuff. Not only as a daughter, but as mother. I have other earth-moving thoughts in my head, but I slept late today and missed four three hours of work time. Now I have to crunch. I will get back to this. Really good stuff, Peg. Thanks! You’re saving me in therapy!

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