Getting through

I have a huge pile of dry laundry to sort, fold and "deliver" to every family member's closet, but I have deferred the chore in order to write a few words. I don't want this day to go by unremembered.

At the rate dear ones are falling ill or dying on me, the time I have left has become so precious. The sense of mortality is doubly heightened.

I've become acutely aware of some kind of legacy I can leave behind. Not in material goods, goodness, no!, because I have little where those are concerned, except for anyone who'd take interest in my overused fountain pens. I hear they have resale value -- they come with legit papers, I might add, thanks to Joseph Uy.

Since the month started, I've tried to do "jottings" on this space on sundry matters from making my Mom's chicken potato salad to my husband Rolly Fernandez's hobby of collecting stamps. I don't turn up every day with something to say.

There are days like today when I'm just sifting and shoving the papers that have piled up on my desk, papers that signify the amount of work I attended to in the last 11 months. I should sort them from the useful to the useless the way I do with the dry laundry and gift myself with an uncluttered desk on Jan. 1, 2019.

The spirit is willing, but the body, suffering from holiday languor brought about by a rich diet of ham, cheese, steak, pate and the like, is dragging itself. Anyone who suggests "Exercise, Babeth! Stretch your extremities and go for walks" will be shot.

On days like this, it is best to just follow your bliss, go with the flow and succumb to the allure of another nap.

Source of illustration found here: https://www.huffpost.com/…/cartoons-for-anxiety_n_5bacd763e…

Stealing time

“The trouble is, you think you have time.” – Buddha

First working Monday of the year and I groan, where did the vacay go? I feel like I need a vacay from the Christmas vacay. It's because when you're with family, especially if you're a woman of a certain age like I am (farther and farther from 58 and nearer 59), several roles are played simultaneously, sometimes strenuously: wife, mother, grandma. The last is the most fun because the strain is physical, and it provides all the exercise I need, including soul-boosting laughing breaks.

The next time I'll have for myself is in transit--when I move back to the world of work. During that trip to that world, I shall be a faceless passenger in the bus with lots of alone time. Then I'll get to know "youself" better again. It'll be fun, too.

The shadows on these stones depend on where the sun is at a certain time of day. Photo by Babeth Lolarga