Last Hurrah
Some days are so perfect that we can’t help but feel happy and energized. We cannot but just enjoy being alive. We want to savor every moment, every last detail. We want to stretch out the day or be the one to shut down the party. Days like this seem to happen for all of us sentient beings. Days when the birds’ songs are louder. Days when the horses and goats are feeling their oats. Days when the children are more active and friends are friendlier. Days, when the tired have more energy and the disagreeable are more compromising. These are the days that allow us to feel complete merely because we a living in that moment.
On Monday the sun was shining and the temperature was up. It seemed more like an early spring day and less like a late fall one. The world smelled earthy and new, a result of the previous day’s rain and warm air. Even the grass appeared greener despite it being early December. The horses paced the fence line in anticipation of being turned out to the upper pasture. They hadn’t been out since earlier in the season and had seemed fine with eating hay and mulling around their daily pasture. But today the hay did not appease them and they were alert to what remained on the other side of the fence. The ground which had been previously pocked with divots and frozen to rival the moonscape was now soft and pliable beneath their hooves. The wind whispered to them and they answered by prancing and rearing. Yes, today they needed to be free. Free of the cold and wet that had previously oppressed them. Today they would run and buck and I would watch them do so with adoration and wonder.
They were not the only ones full of spirit. Even my kids, aka the goats, were more mischievous and playful. They head-butted and jumped, taking off with sideways leaps, all four hooves off the ground. The younger ones seemed bolder and stronger - Nervous Nelly even challenged big sister Ethel by rising on her hind legs and coming down to smash her head onto her much larger sibling. They too needed to move to greener pastures; away from the darkness of the barn. Today they would frolic in the warmth and wind, nibbling on the last tender remains of the pastures.
After a foggy rainy Sunday spending too much time in a car and a house it was nice to enjoy the sun and fresh air. Dressed only in jeans and a sweater I was able to go about the day in complete comfort from the morning walk to the bus stop until the last flake of hay was tossed out at night. Even my daughter was taking advantage of the weather. After school, she cartwheeled her way to the house while I held her coat and backpack. After a quick snack, she took her bike out for a cruise through the pastures (I was glad I had been lazy about storing it for the winter). This day with its unseasonable qualities had us all feeling energized. All I could think was that this was going to be our last hurrah. We had to put every effort into enjoying this day for this will be the last time for a long while that we will have these conditions. The horses and goats continued to find forage until they were coaxed in for dinner as the sunset. With bellies bloated from grazing and browsing they happily trotted in for much-needed water and rest.
The last hurrah! That final effort to make the most of what we love and enjoy. As I think about how we lived this day like it was our last (merely because it was warm) I can’t help but find myself smiling thinking about my dad at Thanksgiving. He was taking full advantage of the day feasting and laughing with his family. During dessert, he reminisced about his time in the army telling stories of speeding along on the Audubon and getting in trouble for it. He shared details of his youth - stories of a mischievous young man who I can only imagine- smirking the entire time. He was energized by the energy surrounding him. He was enjoying himself so much that he didn’t want to leave. He had every intention of shutting down the party. Not once did Dad speak of not feeling well.
The following weekend he came down with a cold. The father I encountered just a few days after that festive night was miserable and scared. His strength was zapped and breathing labored. He asked to be taken to the hospital and that is usually the last place he wants to be. Fortunately, Nurse April was able to come and visit him. She put our minds at ease when she said his lungs were clear. So without leaving the comfort of his home he was diagnosed and medication was delivered. April told me that it would take him a few days to feel better but he won’t be what he was before. And damn she was right!
During that short amount of time, he has gone from mostly independent to bedridden. His life is now within the four walls of his first-floor living room. The day has come that he swore he would never let happen – he is no longer sleeping in his blue bedroom of 47 years. Last week he declared that he could no longer get up the stairs. How quickly it all can change! But I got to be witness to his last hurrah. I got to see him at the head of the dining table in his brother’s house, the house they grew up in, enjoying one last Thanksgiving with his family. I got to hear the stories I’d been hearing for years as if it was the first time. I got to hear him laugh as 60-year-old memories flooded his mind. I observed someone experiencing a perfect day.
We spend so much time fantasizing about what a perfect day (or life) would be like. But we rarely look at the one we are living and realize that it quite possibly may possess everything we need and desire. A perfect day (or life) doesn’t have to be flawless. It doesn’t need to be grand or envy-inducing. It needs to fill us with enough joy and pleasure so that when the day is over we can reflect and feel nothing more than contentment and peace. If for some reason our days don’t leave us feeling that way then we should make finding out why a priority for even during the coldest and darkest days there is bound to be one filled with warmth and light.
Dad enjoying Thanksgiving
