Let us be grateful to the people who make us happy; they are the charming gardeners who make our souls blossom.
― Marcel Proust
Maybe it’s the inconsistencies of the weather, but each April I seem to get a case of the blues. Not only am I unable to hold onto yesterday’s sunny blue skies that beckoned my peonies upward, I am helpless to halt the passage of time as I watch transition barreling my way.
Ever since our daughter entered pre-school some 21 years ago, I, like most parents, have marked time by school years. The end of each of those years has always brought a bit of melancholy as I tried desperately to cling to the school-day routines. This year both of my children will finish the school year by the end of April, and our girl will complete her formal education.
I find myself dwelling on her upcoming transition to real life with a feeling of grief for the years that have passed and the end of a significant era. While it’s natural to mourn a bit in these times of transition, I’ve got to turn my thoughts around before I start wallowing in it and accept that the days when I wielded some control over my children’s lives are long departed. Fortunately the act of writing this post serves as my necessary reminder to stop looking back and simply
Recognizing the loss of control goes hand-in-hand with accepting the realization that I am the only who can control how I feel. Grateful for the blessing of a gracious posse tops that list. You are my charming gardeners who feed my soul, whether with your kind words and suggestions or mere presence, and make me happy.
In choosing happiness, I need to get out of my own head and turn and tend to you. I realize my own wistfulness at the passing of time is nothing compared to the recent pain of some others in the posse. More than a few have very recently suffered losses of family members and close friends. While words cannot heal the pain or bring happiness, perhaps this perspective-changing quote from Dr. Seuss, which I expect to be repeating often over the next month to my daughter, will conjure a brief wry smile during an otherwise difficult time.
Often times finding happiness becomes simply a matter of changing perspective. As I serendipitously experienced on Friday over a long lunch with cFl, who recently lost her lovely mother, sharing time with a friend can often trigger that perspective change. The resulting happiness feels as beautiful as a peony blossoming in the soul.
May 13, 2013
p.s. I may have pushed the garden metaphor a bit in this post, but I’ve got Historic Garden Week, which starts Saturday, and a series of garden-centric posts in its honor on the brain.