James gave me 21 punches in the arm and I have bruises, because he was having so much fun wishing my happy birthday.
I breathe the same spruce air that I was born into, and would have woken up not knowing it was my birthday if Facebook wouldn’t have told people to send me well wishes.
It’s kinda scary, you know, forgetting your own birthday.
But it didn’t matter.
I sat it a hunting camp on a white deck chair and stuffed my face with goose, duck soup, and bannock, washing it down with a blue bowel of carnation milked tea, feeling entirely euphoric. You couldn’t have made interesting conversation with me if you would have tried.
I was in a different world.
Then I get in late and smoky for bible study and suddenly Miriam arrives with a cake Victoria made and they sing and I blush all over.
So 21 finds me, blowing out a lighter that Derek digs out of his pocket in place of candles and laughing hard.
Yesterday I joined the kids and biked around potholes and back muddy trails until everything hurt and then plucked, singed, and gutted ducks for relaxation.
I wish writing would come easier these days, but mostly I attempt a post and nothing comes.
I’ve decided to be content with just living for a while.
Content to watch the ice melt and the moose run down the road and laugh at everyone, including myself, without trying to write it all down before I forget.
Life is so much bigger than my computer screen right now.
One more thing, though.
Supposedly, I heard, it was considered kind of lame to respond to comments since it is like a cheap way to may your comment numbers increase. So I rarely wrote replies.
I’ve decided that is a lame notion.
Mostly because I’ve been frustrated when people who I don’t know comment and I can’t really communicate with them. I mean I can track down their email, which I have, but I don’t have time to do that for everyone.
So I’ve decided, lameness or not, I’m going to communicate with readers through the comment section. So if you comment, come back and check for a response, because I’ll probably have something to say.
*Yes,the post I posted last week is gone. It will be reposted at a later date, when the time is right*
Mary Horst said:
liked this post very much. I once ate roast duck (goose or partridge ?……) not sure, outdoors at Slate Falls. (Oh that was before you were born) Myrna Bauman roasted it in her wood stove oven while we were at church. It was scrumptious!
Time may change many things, but not the taste of roasted wild meat 🙂
be content with just living, dear! I’m some in the same “boat” struggling to make sense with my words and enjoying the living 🙂 I will be interested to see “the later date” post. Only read it last night… wanted to respond and don’t remember what with, but it was interesting since this Easter I thought much about suffering, and loving with a willingness to suffer. Your first attempt reminded that love is inseparably intertwined with faith and hope. Perfection and eternal bliss? I taste it now in marriage, I wait for it’s fullness in heaven.
I keep thinking of you, since our last lunch together. I’m sure you understand the bittersweetness of it all…..
(: I love your posts.
Well shucks 🙂 And I have been quite annoyed that you stopped posting. for shame!
Hahah! How ironic; I just posted. You must haz powaz. (:
I also turned 21 in the middle of April. Part of my birthday was spent sitting on a blanket with a friend in a cove in southern Ireland, watching the mist roll in. 21 is good!
A cove in Ireland. A friend. Mist.
Sounds absolutely beautiful.
(Gotta say, I’m almost a little jealous)
So cool! I think it is awesome that you reply to posts! It’s fun to read what you say back and it makes the blog more friendly.
How do you make your bannock? Recipe Please 🙂