Each summer while I’ve been home, I’ve collected wonderful memories on separate strings. I thought of them as pearls and watched them slip onto the strands effortlessly, making incredible jeweled ropes. Some days had so many good moments, they crowded in handfuls before they slid into place. I had the opportunity to go out on the lake often, to go down to the inlet once in a while, to leave and visit friends now and again, and to embrace where I was. My first summer was so idyllic, much of it was surreal. I did things that summer I’d not done before and may not get to do again. Later summers were more realistic, but still created many pearls for new strings. Even last summer, when mum was going through her chemo, I had chances to wander away on my own now and again.
This last year has been different. I’ve been selfish in wanting those previous experiences again. I miss people and places and being a part of life. The last couple of days, I’ve realized something important. I don’t need perfect white seawater pearls pulsing with light all the time. There are other things I can string on my strand and pearls can be found in freshwater as well as the ocean. I can even MAKE my own pearls. They look just as luminous and I’m absolutely content with beads and bobs and unusual sorts of charms.
Take the above photo for example. It is a fork in the parking lot with what could be coined as spent salad. It is a lesson. I could park there, not move, and get squashed by traffic, or I can look at the symbolism and move on. I’m moving on. It’s ok to be grumpy and bitchy and whiny, it is also ok to laugh and enjoy the moments I find for me.
Moments when I get to visit on the phone (or via other forms of technology) with dear friends, reading books I haven’t read in a while or finding new ones, having a cat curl up on my feet, being a house elf for someone (NOTE: I do not wear a tea cloth when I am cleaning. I am more Dobby than Kreacher!), having people notice me for myself instead of me as mum’s daughter, blogging, getting out when I can, warm showers, and sleep. Not always things I can photograph, but things which are rather wonderful in their own way.