Tag: fiction

Posted in Family, Faith and Fitness

The blank page…

Posted on by Lucretia Cahill

40 Reflections #31: 40 days of raw recollections during the Lenten Season

Tonight is one of those nights when I stare at a blank page. No clue what to write. Guess I should have planned rather than gone organic. Let’s see…

Yesterday, I watched a woodpecker balance upside down in a very acrobatic foraging pose, using its tail feathers like a tripod and clinging effortlessly to peck the heck out of the nuts and seeds we had out. I mean, even this guy went in with a plan, and I’m sitting here with a blank page!

I arrived at the airport this early morning, thankfully with lots of time before my flight, as security was packed. I felt like I won the lottery when my bag did not get flagged, and I could lace up my shoes and head to gate A19.

As I settled in my aisle seat, my window neighbor had arrived. He was an elderly gentleman with only his Sudoku book and a pencil capped with a red eraser marking his last page.

“Sudoku will pass the time”, he said.

He had zero electronic devices to set on airplane mode, no earphones taken from the flight attendant to plug in and watch whatever Delta is offering on the screens dotting the seatbacks. Instead, he stared out the window like we used to, watching luggage load and busy workers shuffle around the tarmac.

We had the loveliest conversation. Turns out he’s a motorhome guy with fascinating stories. Which I will share…soon!

I arrived at my childhood home to help take care of my parents. Mom recognized me (thank you Jesus), and Dad asked if the flight was full as he had my last 1,583 flights prior. Ahhhh…normalcy.

Now, my blank page is full, and so is my heart. More tomorrow.

Here’s to Another Good Day!

Thanks for joining me,

Lucretia

Posted in Family, Faith and Fitness

The blossom, like life, is fleeting

Posted on by Lucretia Cahill

Lenten Reflections #17

While walking in Marshalls Store today, I passed by an elderly woman and saw she had a bright pink cherry blossom wreath in her basket.

“What a beautiful wreath!” I told her.

“It is, isn’t it?” She agreed.

I went on to say the wreath would brighten up any space.

“It’s for my daughter’s grave,” she said, wilting a little. “She died one year ago, and since her tombstone hasn’t been placed yet, I thought I would find a way to use this to dress it up.”

“It’s absolutely perfect,” I said. She went on to tell me her husband also died just three weeks shy of their 75th anniversary, at age 100 and 6 months.

“That’s the way life is,” she continued. I leaned in a little, thinking she was about to give me the secret to what life “is,” but instead, she stared at the flowers on the wreath.

I remembered my years in DC, where the cherry blossom trees define spring and renewal. After a few weeks, the delicate petals on the trees float off, symbolizing the impermanence of our fleeting lives.

As our conversation slowed, she said, ” I’m 95 years old.”

“What a blessing!” I said.

“Sometimes I’m not sure if it is or not.” She said, her voice tired.

“So nice talking to you,” I said…and God bless you…The wreath really is — absolutely perfect.”

She smiled, touched my arm, gave it a mom squeeze, and continued pushing her basket toward the clothing section where her caretaker waited.

What I learned:

My five-minute conversation with one kind, elderly woman was priceless to me, as were the connections we made. I pray she will find peace.

I also pray that maybe someone stop in and chat with my parents when they are out and about. They won’t be at Marshalls, but maybe Goodwill, Trader Joe’s, a yard sale, or the Commissary. Sharing a moment with someone and listening to their stories is lubrication for the soul.

Here’s to Another Good Day!

Thanks for joining me,

Lucretia