Monday, May 4, 2009

Sometimes Life is So Full

At work today, I kept wondering what I was doing there. Why am I doing a job I do not love? The work needs to be done and I am doing it. I suppose that is enough of a reason.

After work, though...ahhhh.

This is what life is about: talking to sons and daughter-in-law on the way home (I admit: I talk on the cell phone while driving, it keeps me up on my family and makes use of otherwise wasted time), then attending writers group, and home to where my husband has cleaned, cleaned, cleaned this little house, and my second son is coming to spend the night. This is my life. Work is the means to the end.

Now I am here, sharing my thoughts with those who follow my days. I re-read the email from my friend Mimi, who faces aging with grace and dignity, sharing her challenges freely and with humor. Hers is not an easy path, but she is showing those of us not so far behind what we will face in the coming years. It's hard going, and Mimi and Rocky have joined the ranks of my heroes. I wish I had understood better what my parents faced in their late years. I wasn't paying enough attention then and now I understand how difficult their journey was.

I am also thinking of EarthHeart whose blog I read regularly. She continues to deal with the sudden loss of her beloved and shares her painful journey with us on her blog. Another one who has joined my hero list.

I realize that my heroes are not celebrities. They are not famous. They are not even wealthy, unless you count experience. My heroes are the everyday people who have that deep appreciation of life that embraces not only joy but also sorrow, not only health but also pain, not only living but also dying. To all my heroes, I dedicate this poem.

Everyday Lives

I write of lives unheralded--
the builders of our roads
the teachers of our children
the cleaners of our homes
the easers of our pain
the tillers of our soil
the keepers of the flame

that burns in each small village
along each rural road
in the middle of our cities
on the hearths of every home
they tend to life’s small details
the fixing, cleaning, building, care
they live unrecorded history--
the keepers of the flame


Janet, said...

I love the poem, Suzanne, and enjoyed our meeting. Thanks for the editing!

Susan said...

Wonderful, wonderful, wonderful post.

Jason Burns said...

Why am I working at a job I do not love?

I ask myself that everyday.

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