On Being

There was an almost full moon out last night.
 
But I saved my howling for this morning.
 
We put back mulch down on top of the pine needles that the builder used. People have said that snakes like the pine needles. And since I don’t like snakes, the pine needles had to go.
 
I like the black much better, anyway, because it gives a nice contrast.
 
Yesterday, I wanted to be back in Warren County. It was weird. I felt a bit lonely. I’d received a photo of one of my granddaughter’s school pictures and a coloring picture from another granddaughter and that was all it took.
 
I didn’t cry. I just do as I do more than cry … I got quiet.
 
That always concerns Nick.
 
I was quiet on our trek to Lowe’s to get the much. His remark is always, “You don’t have much to say,” to which I reply, “Yep. Not much to say.”
 
That is when I blurted out, “I wish we were in Cincinnati, today.”
 
That feeling made me do what I do best … eat.
 
But I didn’t.
 
Would you believe it was October 14, when I went to the surgeon and found out not only was my gall bladder dysfunctional, but I also had a fatty liver? That sounds like something Trump would love to say … “Hey you with the Fatty Liver.”
 
That is when the surgeon and I had a good talk about diet and the body and, yessireebob, it was my wake up call.
 
And that is when I started my eating and picked up walking.
 
So … it has been a month that I have stayed away from wheat and gluten and sugar.
 
You know, the body is a miraculous piece of equipment. I think it knows that the person who lives inside it is not even close to perfect. Our bodies and minds put up with a lot. We stuff them and run them ragged and sometimes disdain what they look like.
 
We put them in harm’s way by abusing them with so many unnatural ingredients and breathing polluted air. And, often, at least for me, it isn’t until the body cries “Moron,” that I change my ways.
 
But change? Yes, I have changed. I change most everyday because I, in my own way, am sort of a change-maker. Yep, just like some politicians profess, I encourage change.
 
But eventually, the change becomes the norm, and there is something in me that will set off another change. It could be healthy or not healthy. I don’t know. And if history repeats itself, which I believe it does, I constantly concerned that I will let go of this change and, you know the drill. It really is sort of like being on and off the wagon.
 
I know one thing that has come from working on getting healthier is, I don’t think of my age so much. I know it shouldn’t be, but that number, nearing 65, is a stumbling block for my mind. And each day now, I get Medicare info from all sorts of organizations. But for my purposes, and to help me to go full throttle ahead, I am not thinking of my upcoming birthday in February, as one when I will turn 65, but it is my Medicare birthday. I am excited about that.
 
With each step I am taking and each decision I am making about my food choices, I am getting stronger. I have lost weight. I am moving better, too.
 
Maybe it is that fall is in the air, or that when I saw the picture of my granddaughter, I saw the passing of time and the difficulty of distance. Maybe that was part of what was the matter with me yesterday … my heart broke a bit. Being in two places at a time is something I haven’t yet been able to figure out.
 
Good grasshoppers, now I have myself holding back tears.
 
You see your grandchildren’s lives going on, and sometimes feel stuck in your own. You are living your life at one speed, yet the world, other’s lives, go whizzing by.
 
It was interesting … a friend here told me that we are outsiders, we who have moved to South Carolina. Many of the people in our neighborhood are “outsiders.” We came from Ohio, Pennsylvania, New York.
 
What she said, threw me. I had not felt like an outsider. People have been friendly and , friendly to them. But to hear that people view us, me, as an outsider, felt icky.
 
In Ohio, I was never an outsider. I was Ohio. I was the Midwest. In other words, I knew who I was.
 
And now, I think that perhaps, for this moment … I have lost that. No matter how much pimento cheese I eat or how much I smile and say that I am enjoying our time in the South, the truth is, I will never be a Southerner. I am a Midwest woman living in the South.
 
And that makes me feel a bit misplaced … at least for yesterday and today.
 
Thanks for listening.
 
Susan
 

2 Comments Add yours

  1. Debra Simpson says:

    Make em a butt load of buckeyes…cuz Ohio is you. More specifically, Norwood. Buckeyes, Cincy chili….tartar sauce on some fries. The south is good, and I am mostly belle, but the midwest has its charms.

    Like

    1. Susan DeBow says:

      Hi Debbie!

      That is great advice. Skyline dip! I am a midwesterner living in the South. It is a good combo. Thank you for writing.

      S

      Like

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