Summer Goes

On this, the last day before Autumn officially begins and my favorite season ends, I wanted to share a blog I wrote in August of 2007. I can still see the evening vividly, and the memories are overpowering.

On this, the last day before Autumn officially begins and my favorite season ends, I wanted to share a blog I wrote in August of 2007. I can still see the evening vividly, and the memories are overpowering.

Enjoy. Here it is.

Sloane

 

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Every Little Bit Helps

I am patting Office Depot on the back big time.

I am patting Office Depot on the back big time. At a time when the Earth’s going a bit crazy with dramatic weather tantrums and clearly pointing fingers at the humans who brought on the global warming, Office Depot sends us our order in a bag. Rock on!

For years they have sent us our toner cartridges and other items that can’t be found at my neighborhood store in too huge boxes filled with packing – bubble wrap, air pillows, etc. It was a terrible waste, even though STUFF reclaimed and recycled every piece of it. But now, welcome to the new delivery vehicle.

I’m lovin’ them.

Sloane

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Trail of Tears

Almost a month ago we put our dog, Einstein, to sleep. I can’t say it’s been a long month since but it has had its moments.

One month ago, we put our dog, Einstein, to sleep. I can’t say it’s been a long month since, but it has had its moments. Last week, a wonderful note in the mail from a dear friend left me navigating the steps to the second floor with blurry eyes and tears gently rolling. It wasn’t even a long note. It was just a perfectly chosen single sentence from a man who takes care with words.

It actually took us until this past Saturday to pick up his remains, and we still don’t know what to do with them. So they are sitting on the kitchen table. Our son wants them in his bedroom. Sounds like a good place to be – with the twin beds and the Legos and the books. Our dog always was happiest with one of us by his side. Particularly the youngest of us. At first it was funny smells that allured him, then nibbles dropped from a high chair, food left unattended on a toddler table, and, finally, long walks alone with his growing boy. They both liked those walks.  We even got a picture of him posted on the Blue Buffalo site once, he was really proud of that. We  Our son would saunter at a speed that Einstein dictated, and both experienced a freedom from rules, regulations, timetables and adults.

I have revisited our last day with our dog many, many times. I doubt I’m done picking it apart, but I can find no flaw with it just now. My visual memories of our time with the vet that day are vivid. He was surrounded by us all, and there wasn’t a dry eye in the room. The vet and her assistant have cared for him since we rescued him 17 years ago, and they too had spent the morning wishing noon would never come.

But high noon always comes.

I have found myself lately playing the “why & what if” game. Why couldn’t his mind have gone first? Or his sight? A funny tummy plagued him for a few years but arthritic hips took him out. Why? What if we had gone ahead with the hip surgeries 6 years ago? What if we had installed wall to wall carpeting in our historic home? Would it have been easier on his hips? What if … and why? It’s a game you play when sadness breaks down your ability to see clearly. Most days, however, I can see that 19 years is a wonderful life for a dog. It was a wonderful life for all of us.

Our last morning with our dog was slow and restful. I don’t believe we were ready to leave the house, but the photos from that day show a family at peace – a family that knows letting go is the right thing to do. The kind thing. The humane thing.

I miss my dog. However, there is a certain grace that enters the final and permanent moments of living, and I have witnessed it three times so far in this life. It was in that stillness that my dog helped me rediscover that the peace I carry will be with me long after the trail of tears ends.

Sloane

p.s. Our son set up a page on Facebook with many photos of our dog, some from his last day with us. You are welcome to view them here, if you dabble on Facebook. The photos used above were taken on Anna Maria Island, Florida, on July 31, 2011. It was our last family “portrait”.

 

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A Spring-Fall Girl is Born

I have called myself a Summer Girl for many, many, many years. I always loved the heat. But I think age, wisdom and my outrageous power bills have brought me to me knees. I am now re-inventing myself as a Spring-Fall Girl. This is your offical notice. Please update all of your beliefs about me accordingly.

Please note that our door is wide open, our hair is down, I am wearing sleeves, and there is no sweat on our faces.

Casey

PS…This does not preclude my being a Beach Girl in any season. Weather and geography are two very different things.

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Friday Night Lights

I attended my first friday night football game at my son’s new high school tonight.

I attended my first Friday night football game at my son’s new high school tonight. Football’s never really been “my sport”. It is a wee bit violent for me. When I attended high school way back in the early 80s, I tried to never miss a game. Our school shared a field with another high school, so even home games held the allure of a car ride, before and after I had my license.

I did not sit with my son at the BBQ before the game or at the game. He was off with his friends – new and old – and that made me infinitely happy. He’s building his life and his memories, and I’m merely the taxi driver. Fine by me. Truly.

The light came on again tonight that my son has done nothing but grow away from me since he was born. I should be sadder, or so I’m told. I’ve spent time and energy visiting this issue, and you can see one of those musings here.  While sitting in the bleachers with my niece, I was reminded that – even after the lights came on and the world got a little darker tonight – my son knew exactly where to find me. If I’ve been doing my job correctly and have let him grow away from me, he’ll always know exactly where I am.

Sloane

p.s. If the photo of the field lights I captured isn’t the stuff of a Lori Buntin painting, I don’t know what is.

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Copyright Casey Simmons and S. Sloane Simmons. People who steal other people's words & thoughts are asshats. Don't be an asshat.