Tuesday, January 29, 2013

My precious stranger

I have a gynecologist. Most women do.
Mine is an older man; a very kind hearted, gentle creature. Women are particular when it comes to filling this position in life. I'm convinced I have one of the best. My doctor was responsible for bringing my precious child into this world. He holds a special place in my heart...even though he may never know it.
In 2010, his wife passed away. They were on their way to Chile for a mission trip...something they did throughout their marriage. A kind, giving man, married to a driven and generous woman. They must have been quite the pair.
I never knew quite what to say when my yearly visit rolled around after that event. "I'm sorry for your loss," just never sounded like enough. But it was all I had for this precious stranger.
This past summer, my doctor's daughter was married. He stood there and gave her away...alone. It broke my heart for him and his daughter that the mother was not there to share in that moment. I know her loss was felt heavily that day.
I pictured him delving deeper into his work to pass the time. I know doctors do this anyways...work a lot.
Recently however, I've spotted him...in the most unusual places.
There's a restaurant here that can only be described as a "dive". It serves seafood and the patrons eat off of bucket lids while they sit at picnic tables in concrete block rooms covered in graffiti and signatures. Yes, it looks this bad...but tastes amazing.
A few weeks ago, I spotted my doctor there. He was still in his scrubs. It was an unusual sight for me and not at all where I ever pictured him to be. We waved excitedly, but left him alone because he was there with someone.
This past weekend. I caught a glimpse of him again. This time at the Gun and Knife show at the fairgrounds. I almost didn't recognize him. He was wearing blue jeans and was holding a box of popcorn. There was an eagerness about him, and it was at that moment I caught a glimpse of the little boy in him. That distinguished, very prominent image of him was trumped by this curious man eating his popcorn, very interested in all the toys laid out on the tables. A manly wonderland of items.
It made me happy to see him like this. To see him out and about and doing something he enjoyed...and feeding his inner child; living life.
I am amused at the anticipation I feel for where I'll find him next and intrigued by my concern for his well being. I am one of thousands of patients he has seen, so I don't expect to really be known to him. However, he will always remain precious to me.

The Neverending Train

Augusta is the land of perpetual trains. It always has been.
When I used to work downtown, the trains would run through at the most inopportune times like 7:45a.m....when I had to be at work by 8 a.m., or 12:45 p.m...when I had to be back from lunch at 1 p.m. Of course, when I was weary from my day, trying to get home...yep, you guessed it; 5:10 p.m. - there I sat.
When I lived in South Augusta growing up, there was a train that ran near the house. You could hear the whistle at night mainly, when all was quiet and still.
Today, I live "in the city". Trains live here. They do not sleep. They never stop. It is a constant droan. Most nights I sleep right through it all.
But tonight I do not.
Tonight, I realize that there is a train yard somewhere close by. I hear the trains signaling with their horns - almost as if they're talking - as they switch cars, drop cars and attach cars. At some points, I am sure there has been a horrible plane crash or accident by the severity of the banging. Yet, its just the trains..doing what they do.
The constant chatter of trains is keeping me up.
If I stay in the guest house, I can barely hear anything. It is a low lying brick house. However, in my very tall, very wooden, 100 year-old Victorian, the sounds travel up and over the rooftops, through my walls and into my bedroom with ease.
I'd like to say that I can find relief from trains, but they follow me everywhere. My sister lives in the mountains of North Georgia. There, every two hours blows the train.
I have heard the silence - the pristine quiet of no trains a few times in life...like at the beach or far up in the mountains where the trains cannot climb. That's where I'm wishing I was tonight.

Tuesday, January 22, 2013

A room fit for a little girl

I should have named this post the "No Baby Zone".
My angel is growing up so I redid her room in a matter of about 5 hours yesterday afternoon to reflect her growing and changing big girl personality.

Oh how time flies

Yep...it's the 22nd of JANUARY. Already the year has sprinted from the starting line and we are in a heated race towards December. Why does this happen!?!?
Is it the fact that I have a child that is speeding up the rotation of the planet?
There has to be some reason I cannot find enough time in the day to get half of what I need to get done or any of what I want to get done.
Why just yesterday I was sitting in history class at Butler High School...waiting on 3:30 p.m. The clock seemed to move in slow motion and I could barely keep my eyes open.
Today, my day is in full swing by that time and when I blink...it's time to go home.

Sadly, also when I blink, my hair is getting gray. In what seems like an instant, my daughter has developed skills and language and a personality when I swore she was just crawling. In mere seconds, I see my spouse's face showing that years have etched themselves into his smile lines where there were none before.

I'm pretty sure it was just last week that I was in middle school gym class learning to do a hand stand. However this morning, it took me nearly 5 minutes before I could stand on my feet without pain.

Time marching on....flying...needs to stand still...yes, I like that one better. Lets just stand still for a while so that we can enjoy this one life we have. We can fly another day.