Tag Archives: worry

Virtual Angels

12 Jan

I’m the mom of a 19-year-old.  A 19-year-old that goes to college 5 hours away, involving a drive over two mountain passes and through metro Denver traffic.  He’s a good, cautious driver and patiently puts up with my “be safe, make good choices” talk every time he gets behind the wheel.  He texts me when he leaves, he texts when he arrives.  He never gives me reason to worry, but I just can’t help it.  He left yesterday, knowing that Vail Pass was closed due to a jack-knifed semi and chain law on both Vail and the Tunnel.  (I worry when roads are dry!)  I’m grateful for my network of Facebook friends, some of whom have college drivers of their own, who provide a positive energy, prayer and angel network when my boy is on the road.  I still worry until I get his text, but this network brings more comfort than I know how to express.

zach heads home 1-11-14

“The captain of The Enterprise”

What Does Old Mean, Anyway?

28 May

I’ve been thinking about this a lot lately.  When I was in elementary school, or high school, or even college for that matter, I would have considered a person of my age old.  Not that I really had a solid determination of old; I think I just considered it something that happens with age.  My parents were old.  My teachers were old.  My grandparents were really old.  I have achieved the number of years that I once considered old…so am I?  No.  At least I don’t think so.  I still enjoy nearly all of the things I liked growing up.  Maybe with the exception of Twinkies–waaaay too sweet–bleh.  But I don’t think my anti-Twinkie palate signifies oldness.

So what IS old?  I’ve assisted people older than me while working my summer job at a greenhouse.  I admit to studying them a bit and imagining myself with their particular challenges of hearing, vision and mobility.  Do those challenges constitute oldness?  Or does the act of coming out each spring for your vegetable and flowering plants and then spending the summer tending, weeding and harvesting keep oldness at bay?  Are you old because it takes you longer to do things?  Does the joy of watching something grow negate the time it takes to plant it in the first place?

And what about the physical differences?  The effects of gravity, the age spots that remind me of summers spent laying in the sun using baby oil as “suntan lotion,” the wrinkles that frame my face.  The older-than-me folks at the greenhouse are also affected by these differences, but even more so.  I find myself repeatedly drawn to commercials featuring young, smooth-skinned beauties selling the latest spot-removing, tone-evening, skin-smoothing, wrinkle-erasing beauty cream, and I confess to wanting that youthful, dewy skin.  What am I afraid of?  Am I THAT vain?  Why can I not settle into “aging gracefully?”

Maybe that’s a good thing.  Maybe taking care of yourself physically and mentally IS aging gracefully.  Gray hair will happen, wrinkles and age spots cannot be undone without spending huge amounts of money that could be spent on plants and garden bling.  Worry is my nature, but I still love to play with friends, snuggle with my sweetie, watch clouds float across the sky, listen to our mockingbird perform his repertoire, and savor the first tomato of the season.

I saw my shadow the other day as my husband and I worked to weed our front yard perennial beds, and realized my shadow doesn’t show those parts of me that are slipping into what I identify with “old.”  My shadow is much the same as it’s always been.  How can I be old if my shadow isn’t?!  My hair becomes grayer each year, and wrinkles deepen.  Kids may think of me as old.  But I’ve decided I won’t consider myself old until my shadow looks old–how can that happen when it follows me to a slot canyon or when it sits in the garden admiring a fresh bloom?  I think my shadow enjoys a  cuppa as much as I do.  Here’s to my shadow and I toasting each other with a morning brew for many years to come, worrying less, and playing more.


Me? Worried?

24 Jan


photo attribution

If I see a “guilt” just layin’ there on the floor, I’ll pick it up and own it.  Even if it really has nothing to do with me.  Even if the true owner is in the room.  I guess I must consider myself a guilt expert.  I know how to wear it.  I know how to nurture it with the darkness of the wee hours of the morning, molding it and fluffing it with worry.  Worry.  Worry.  Worry.

I worry about if something I said in passing might have possibly been construed as offensive or hurtful by someone.  I worry that I was overly-exuberant about something and someone might have been put-off.  Did I remember to feed the cat?  Did I remember to call my mom?  Will Mr16 win his chair-challenge in jazz band?  Am I too clingy with Mr16?  Am I too distant?  How will I survive when he goes away to college? 

The list goes on and on.  They all come out in the wee hours of the night, partying like a bunch of creepy little goblins in my head.  They always seem worse in the dark; creating their favorite habitat of impending doom.  This always gives me the “OMG I must fix this right NOW” feeling, and of course at 3 in the morning, what can you do??? 

Probably a good thing.  When the sun comes up on a fresh new day, most of those worries can’t tolerate the daylight and fade away into the shadows.  The activity of the day can keep some of the others at bay.  Often, I’ve been worrying for no reason, really.  Just that random guilt I pick up and store.

In looking for images and whatnot for this post I came across these lyrics from the song “Why Worry” by Dire Straits:

“Why worry, there should be laughter after the pain
There should be sunshine after rain
These things have always been the same
So why worry now”

Funny how the lesson you need seems to present itself.  I’m thinking I’ll ponder these lyrics with my second cup of coffee tomorrow morning.  Thanks for listening.