I’m a shaken, not stirred snow globe of cloudy frenzy. But a cruise down I-5 at dusk soothes me, the shades of blue, from the horizon’s teal to the dark blue above. The smooth transition of blues is in the wheelhouse of a skilled painter, not mine. My task is painting with words the crisp blackened silhouettes of trees against it that not even headlights can colorize.
As I tore open a packet of hot sauce for my bean burrito, a haunting thought of my carelessness moseyed into town. You see, at the zigzagged top, I leave it halfway instead of tearing the triangled corner to completion. Rarely do I have two pieces of the packet; I just leave a small tear. Are you aghast, judging the drips of sauce that get hung up on my flappy part? I never thought twice about it until a boyfriend pointed to the sauce packet, signaling a greater issue of carelessness. He was right. I’d say I’ve grown into my care, but as for the packet? Nah.
After reading the above to Dave, he said he does that, too, out of convenience. But he didn’t realize there was another option. Now he plans to try it! Thanks, Dave!
It’s our final trip to the ocean before our cabin sells. Knowing this, I prepared a booster-seated Evelyn for our final goodbye after reassuring her that the cabin would not be taken apart and that someone else would love it as much as we have (“But I love it 1000%!”). Eventually, she resigned with her signature, “Oooooh K,” and the “K” dropped like an airplane from the sky.
While talking about our feelings about saying goodbye and starting a new adventure, I got to pass on a lesson taught to me: that goodbyes are necessary and okay. We celebrate all we’ve gained and take all the good with us.
And with Evelyn watching a video on her laptop, I expand on the sentiment to Dave, “This all was special because we made it that way. That place, we did that. It didn’t do it to us. Our care and love and inviting others to join is something we created. It’s us, and we take it when we go.”
You see, I’m a sentimental ol’ chap and am planning on squeezing out the remaining drops.
Then, three days after we’ve loaded up the ladder, lawn mower, and personal items, we’ll pull away from that blue trim and cedar shingle shack, knowing it’s complete.
Love, Jaclynn
Going On 40 