Time to Refresh

60: (March 2024)

Time has a way of slipping by unnoticed when you’re busy working and raising a family. This has become abundantly apparent to me as I look around and take stock of what needs to get done around the house now that I am retired. To my embarrassment, I realized that my bedroom and the upstairs hallway and stairwell hadn’t been painted since we moved in. To say that they needed a refresh was quite an understatement!

The walls had been a basic white, which turned into a rather dingy white over the years. When my ex-husband moved out over 20 years ago and took our children on a two-week trip to England a few months later, I plunged into color to soothe my aching heart. Taking a giant sponge, an aluminum pie plate, and a host of acrylic paints, I splashed a huge rainbow onto my bedroom wall. I needed the colors to brighten my spirit, so I just went for it, despite my lack of expertise in such an endeavor.

Over the years, all sorts of rainbow paintings made by my children, as well as colorful postcards and artwork I had acquired were tacked onto the wall, in addition to a couple of inspirational quotes I added with a calligraphy pen, just for good measure. It would take several layers of stain-killing primer to cover that wall, to conceal the colors and ink imbued with so many memories and so much healing. But it was time.

I remarried seven years ago, and although my sweet husband never complained about the hippie-esque vibe to our bedroom, I knew it was a makeover begging to happen. It’s a new day, a new season of life, and the room needed to reflect that. We removed all the wall hangings, filled in holes and cracks in the walls and moldings, and moved all the furniture and odds and ends to the center of the room. Then the painting began. I chose a pale, aqua color called ‘Mountain Air’ for the walls, with pure white trim. So clean, so simple.

Alas, my love of color overcame me. I put the woolen lap blanket that my younger daughter had crocheted a few years ago atop our snowy white bed quilt. The blanket was largely crocheted from dozens of small, remnant balls of wool that had been spun from raw wool by my daughter over the course of many years. The blanket is a riot of color. I adore it; each strand of yarn is full of love and my daughter’s creativity and energy. So my husband and I bought a rug full of vibrant colors that play off the kaleidoscopic blanket. The soft hue of the walls provide a tranquil backdrop.

I feel at home again. The colors have entered our room and my heart in a new form. Pure joy.

40: (March 2004)

I just had a trying week. First, my little dog had major digestive issues and forgot that the house was not on the list of acceptable places in which to relieve herself. Then she threw up. A trip to the vet resulted in little pills that I had to insert into her throat twice a day, and a directive for a special diet.

The bigger dog started erupting two days later while I was at church. I arrived home to find rugs and wooden floors covered with vile substances. I scraped the floor while he was outside throwing up again and soiling the back end of his fur with gusto. This happened several times throughout the day. Cleaning him up each time was an experience I desperately want to forget. Then there were the long nights of waking at odd hours because the dogs needed to go outside again. At least they stopped exploding in the house, so I should be grateful.

The day their digestive systems settled down, I couldn’t wait to get a good night’s sleep, but I awoke in the middle of the night to the smell of burning electrical wires. I spent a good long while with an absolute saint of a fire department volunteer, who crouched in my 4-foot-tall basement in front of the electric panel, diagnosing the underlying problem and making it safe for the night.

I eventually went back to bed, but I did not sleep well, what with the notion that my electrical system was faulty. And even though we thought the heat was still working, it was not, and I felt quite frosty by the morning. Throw in a few random hot flashes, and it all added up to a morning screaming for coffee, except that I had no electricity in the kitchen. An electrician got the heat to work within a few hours, but I had no running water or cooking facilities for several days. To add to my worries, one of my daughters came down with a head to foot rash resembling a map of the world.

Thankfully, the week is over. I have running water. I have a fully operating electrical system. My daughter is no longer red. The dogs have not needed to have their bottoms scrubbed in days. Life is generally back to normal. Or was last week the norm, and this moment of relative peace an aberration? Are varying degrees of good and bad all part of the bigger picture, all part of the ultimate ‘norm’ when viewed through the wide-angle lens of time? Whatever the case, if you’re having a good week, be sure to notice it. I know I will.

60-40:

Life certainly does have its ups and downs; it’s all part of the weave, the design. The things that occasionally bring us down are inevitable, because having lived this long, I am absolutely certain that no one gets through life totally unscathed.

In the meanwhile, we need to cherish the things that bring us joy, be they rainbows or patchworks of color, springtime buds forming on trees and shrubs, and, of course, the people and pets that make life worth all the effort. Happy Spring!