October Song

Well, it's a long, long time
From May to December.
But the days grow short,
When you reach September.
And the autumn weather
Turns the leaves to gray
And I haven't got time
For the waiting game.

And the days dwindle down
To a precious few
September, November
And these few precious days
I spend with you.
These precious days
I spend with you.

 We had our first snow this morning. I woke up to a white world, a beautiful world, but since it is the second last day of October, it was rather a bit of a shocker. And I found bits of the lyrics above running through my head. “And the days dwindle down to a precious few”.

  My days, certainly, have done that. I am eighty-one (“and a half” in my granddaughter’s eight-year-old treble). Nothing I am works the way it used to – eyes, spine, digestion, fingers, skin, brain. I spent some time this morning “downsizing”, as they say. I tossed out maps and information pamphlets from trips we have taken – Virginia, Newfoundland, Utah and the rest of the southwest of the USA – and, as I tossed, knew, sadly, that I never would go to those places again; there was no use keeping the information. JG and I took a lot of long and fascinating trips in the day, but we have no ability to do that any more.

 And, I thought, I have no ability to do much of anything, really. Except, maybe, write. The fingers, lumpy as they are, do work. The brain, cranky as it is, does spin out words. And, maybe, the things that flutter around in my head will be amusing to me, at least, to write down. So, the intent is to do a diary for November. For anyone interested enough to keep reading all of this. "These precious days, I will spend with you."

If I am honest with myself, I have not done a lot with my life. Scraped through university, taught, briefly, took a variety of part-time jobs when my two daughters were very young. Took a full-time job when they were in their early teens and got fired from it. Supported my husband in the life he wanted, including a quarter century making maple syrup every spring. I also did a lot of community and committee (much the same thing) work, mainly because there seemed to be a need to get something done. I found I did that rather well. An eight-year stint as a trustee on the school board of the city where we lived is probably the high point. I got elected quite easily, probably because one of my skills is public speaking. I did and do care about how children are educated. And about what opportunities are open to them. But that is not really an outstanding resume, for eighty-plus years.

I can’t wait to see what Grammarly makes of all those sentences with no subject. Too bad, Grammarly. That is the way I write. It is a lot like the way I talk. (I set up Grammarly a few weeks ago, because I have a tough time typing on my iPad and an even tougher time typing on my phone, using one digit. (Here I am using all ten; I took typing in high school and have never lost the main part of it, although I have to look at the keyboard to put numbers in. Is it not a Fine Thing that proper writing requires writing out the numbers as words. “Here” being the computer with a full=sized keyboard.) Grammarly took my sentences with no subject. I am informed that my "clarity" is good, but that my "engagement" is "a bit bland". And, as for "correctness", I am "looking good". This analysis thing is actually fun, although "bland" is a slap in the old kisser.

What I find is my main source of pride is that my daughters have done extremely well; they both have Very Important Work. My avatars, out doing good for the world.

And now I have to go and make supper. The meat is in the oven, but the rest of it is awaiting my paring knife and organization. This may be Day One, or I may come back to reread and edit. Depends. The days grow short, after all.