2 the Chinese/
3 Year of the/
5 Tiger. Tomorrow begins the Year/
8 of the Rabbit. Yesterday began my months of/
February 1: my late husband's -- Fred's -- birthday (1935)
February 6: my parents' anniversary (1943)
21 February 17: my father's death (2010)
March 8: my sister's death (2003)
March 28 through April 3: my late husband's coma (2000)
34 April 4, 12:15 A. M.: my late husband's death (2000)
April 14: my breast cancer surgery (2010).
I intend not to make plans but to continue my steady walk, one foot in front of the
55 other; to live these months free of dread, not cringing at the thought of the next anniversary; to live in the ongoing now, the immediate here; to print a morning checklist: take Synthroid; walk dogs; take shower; drink coffee; walk dogs; take medications; eat breakfast before noon; walk dogs.
With those things resolved, I can do a days' work:
89 four hours per poem; four hours of fiber art; two hours of collage; time to correspond; time to quilt; to sleep my ten-to-twelve hours (as doctors recommend). Spliced amongst those tasks are buying, paying, laundering, scrubbing, essential costs of survival.
All the while, I shall breathe memory in, sadness out; and overlay both inhale and exhale with love. Time will tock away, and with the end of the Year of the (ferocious) Tiger, the Year of the Rabbit will begin, a time to live gently, a time to remain alert.