Author: ferylfiles

I’m pretty sure most of the folks who read this blog live in Walla Walla, Washington or have spent time here or at least visited. For those of you who haven’t, let me tell you, winters are gross. We live in this beautiful valley and most of the year it’s sunny and pretty. We’re right at the foothills of the Blue Mountains, which are really plateaux and we can talk about the Great Missoula Floods and the Palouse and why the topsoil looks like it does or why the Columbia looks like it does or any number of things like why do wheat and grapes grow so well here. It’s a remarkable place. When I look at photos of Tuscany or the south of France or some places in Spain, we’re not far off the mark. It’s why Italian immigrant families found it so familiar and easy to settle here. It’s a special place, I’m telling ya. And while I don’t come from an early settler family or have ties to the Cayuse, Walla Walla, or Umatilla tribes, my mom was born here, my sister was born here, both of my parents went to college here, and there’s a bridge on the outskirts of town that has my maternal grandmother’s maiden name (from a step-father who adopted her–Wickersham). I spent winter and summer breaks here often as a kid even when I lived in Ohio. I remember eating homemade ice cream from cream purchased at the College Dairy on College Ave and eating that on shortcakes with Klickers strawberries. This place is magical. It has layers of complicated, sometimes heartbreaking, and yet extraodinary history. I’m fortunate to be here. I would not choose any where else to be home (except maybe Tours, France).

But winters. Oh man. This valley gets socked in with inversions. The low cloud layer is dense and heavy and sometimes without any end in sight. It can take a toll on one’s soul. Bryan would get out of it by going to Bluewood (our local ski hill) and have “the most powder days” he ever enjoyed anywhere and he skied a lot of anywheres. He would come down from the mountain exhilerated by these powder and “blue bird” days. I’m not a skier and so I didn’t go up. I stayed down in the gloom and would let my mood fester. Yesterday, I had kind of a crabby attitude so I forced myself on a walk at Mill Creek anyway and here’s what it looked like:

Even in this gloom, I could laugh about calling for Heathcliff and enjoy the otters playing.

Today, the weather forecast was for more of the same, but the sun came out and there were patches of blue sky. The cloud cover was significantly higher. Il faut profiter. When things are just right, one must take advantage, so my sister, brother-in-law, and I went for a walk at Bennington Lake where most of Walla Walla and their dogs also decided to carpe diem.

After a lovely hike and a serious workout of the gluteous muscles, we came home and then I got busy painting with bright, cheerful colors. As much as I like to write and share my feelings (laugh with me), I do like to be quiet and express them other ways. These suckers are coming out one way or the other. Let’s just be glad it’s not my riding a horse naked in town or screaming profanities at brick walls–you’re welcome. 😉

December 28th seems like a perfectly reasonable day to have a couch day. Not that reason or permission need to be a part of it, but here I am justifying it. Christmas was good and also really hard. The holiday season is good and also really hard. And the hard has caught up with me.

There’s so much to do–cleaning up boxes and tissue paper, putting away gifts. The kitchen is not completely dirty, but it’s not clean either. Laundry. Sweeping. There’s still mail and paperwork to be filed and sorted. And I look at it all with a big fat NOPE. Nope, not today. Today, I will not. Maybe tomorrow.

On this particular couch day, I’m going to rest and reflect. Walking in town these past gray days, I understand how people can believe in ghosts. I saw someone walking in the distance with a yellow jacket. BAM! Right in the gut. I catch somone’s profile just out of the corner of my eye. BAM! Right in the gut again. I’m sad. I’m frustrated. And sometimes I’m even mad. How dare he leave me! It is possible to be grateful, joyful, and completely heartbroken and mad all at the same time. It’s a lot to process and so once in a while–COUCH DAY.

I hope if you’re in need of a break, you can catch a couch day soon. We can pick ourselves up, dust ourselves off, start all over again, but tomorrow. Today, we couch.

[Tip Jar: https://venmo.com/u/Rebecca-Lubbers-1]

I chatted with a retired ER nurse and retired fire chief this evening. I’m amazed by people who can deliberately pit themselves against tragedy and catastrophe, willingly walking into the maw. What kind of mettle is that? But I step back and reflect on a recent conversation with Mary. Everybody gets dealt their “hard” cards. All of us. The price of admission to this show is heartache and pain. And every single person has, is, or will suffer. Wow, what a cheerful Merry Christmas pep talk, Becci. Way to make spirits bright.

But this pain, this suffering, it’s only one part of the story. There is still joy. Delight. Wonder. Play. Laughter. Connection. Hope. Love. There are opportunities every day to make new memories, good memories.

I had every intention of hiding under a blanket after Christmas breakfast and present-opening with Mary this morning. And I may do that tomorrow; the jury is out. But today, instead, I went for yet another glorious walk at Mill Creek. I had dinner with Mary, her mom, and her step-dad. (Sara makes a very fine prime rib!) I went to Walter and Danielle’s for a visit this evening. Interspersed through it all were gifts and messages from loved ones and kitty cuddles thrown in for good measure.

And if you did hide under a blanket today, there’s no shame in that. It’s a tough day. If you forged ahead in stressful circumstances, congratulations, you made it through. If you had the very best day full of every good thing, I am so glad, I wish that for everyone. Most of us probably had some mixture of all of the above, and that’s okay too. Good enough is the enemy of perfect.

I am not a pagan on purpose. I am a person who lives in a place with all four seasons, whose body is marked by lunar cycles, who feels as connected to the earth as someone who digs and sows and harvests can, who feels the emotional weight of changing light.

Shortest day. Longest night. The light returns.

It is so easy to believe that it will only ever be this moody gray during the day. The night darkness will go on and on forever. Grief is like this. Permanent heartache. Permanent gray. The sorrow draws on and on like these dark days. But our experience and science tell us the light will come back. Every year, so far, it has.

I’m banking on this theory of seasons and light. I’m going all in on hope. I’m throwing my lot in with each new season, experience, and opportunity. I’m also giving myself one helluva pep talk to convince myself.

Fake it ’til you make it. Don’t think, just go. Emotions follow action. I can hear Bryan say all of these. Maybe not everything is done with panache and grace. Sometimes it’s just gritting one’s teeth and powering through.

If you’re experiencing grief and heartache in some manner and you feel like you’re just powering through, know that someone out there gets it. And spring will come again…

…in 89 days.

[Virtual tip jar: https://venmo.com/u/Rebecca-Lubbers-1]

I know it’s essential to get out of my house and do things, particularly this winter, this year. But I’ll level with you, I have a big case of the “don’t wannas.” I’m ultimately glad that I do when I do, but this is the preparation process almost every single time:

Laugh with me and don’t worry too much. 😛