It’s a grand day when you can sit on your couch, in clothes, and not be losing half your weight in perspiration. Well, it is in my life, anyway. Others may have different joys; that mine is that I can actually enjoy being in my house at 5.30 in the afternoon – on previous days this time has been headed toward that particular torture of your house being hotter than the temperature outside and probably hotter that the top temperature reached that day – is not to be sneered at.
I almost feel like dancing. Almost. It would cause perspiration and, since we are celebrating the lack thereof, it seems self-defeating and counterproductive. Instead, dear reader, you got a blog post that celebrates life rather than bemoans it. I don’t come to my posts with a plan. You get whatever I have buzzing around in my head. Sometimes it’s fuelled by anger, sometimes by pain, sometimes by whimsy. Today it’s joy!
What other joys can I find while I’m in the right mood for joy? Well, even on hot days there is that particular joy of running through the sprinkler. My wife found an old one of her grandfather’s, it’s a little old but it still works. In the days we have had of late it has been glorious to go outside and turn it on, get a little sprinkled, retreat to dry off and be cool, get wet some more moving it to a new location, get another dose of wet trying to get the chickens or the dogs, steam some of it off laying on the freestanding hammocks. Repeat until the mosquitoes start coming out to feed on your blood. Oh, I’m heading out of joy territory.
The joy of watching the room of stink slowly enter boxes and then get moved out into the shed, waiting for the pup’s imminent house move is bittersweet, but it is joy. It means that we may even be able to have guests stay over. Guests! The first time that she left she only took a few things, essentially leaving her room intact. We tried to pack it away, clean it up, tackle the terrible ‘horder’ within, each time we took a bit down to her she’d bring something back, when she visited, to replace it. We fought hard but lost. This time there is a semblance of preparation and the room is being sorted. Admittedly, my sister is doing a wonderful job working in the stink pit. It’s better this way. Her infinite patience means that the pup has actually made some decisions about throwing things out or giving them away. She is finding stuff she forgot she had. We are gaining a room that we can renovate and then put to use. It gives me joy.
This move out of home means the pup will be away and doing her own thing and making her own decisions. This is also joyful. In some ways it is sad, she will again be distancing herself from me, I can’t be too sad though as it is what we both need. The pup needs to grow, in a safe space, and find her way. When she is home with me her tendency to revert to ‘child’ means that growth is stunted and peppered with my staccato denials to her demands that I be her chauffeur or cook or housecleaner or decision maker or knight in armour. I know she can do these things herself and I can show her the evidence of when she did do those things herself, recently, and with aplomb. I am joyful that my daughter is going this time with some sort of a plan and most of her stuff.
Other joys are many. I am healing, my back is gaining strength, my pain is less. The chickens are laying again. They went on strike because of the heat but have had to release eggs the last couple of days. I’ll be getting a little extra in pay this week, we might be able to afford my car registration. I have a roof over my head and food to eat and a crop of peaches about to ripen on the tree outside my lounge room. We have friends who are clever and kind and caring and generous and a delight to be around.
The greatest joy, though, is that through all the joys and all the less than joyful times, I have my wife by my side. We make a good team. We think about things differently, which means when we tackle problems as a team we come up with some great solutions. We talk to each other about stuff, big, little, good and bad. It keeps us together, in harmony, united and strong. We laugh together and face each day knowing that we are both working to make our lives together the best ones they can be. I’m grateful to have found a partner in life who is willing to take on a journey that is only partly hers; some mine, some my daughter’s, but all ours.