On my daily run around the lake today, the melodious croak of tree frogs serenaded me as I passed fellow joggers in tank tops and shorts. Green turtles sunned themselves on grey rocks by the water’s edge. Several times during my 3 mile jog, I stopped to quench my thirst. Nothing out of the ordinary for a June morning, but it’s 72 degrees and 3 days before Thanksgiving! All of Mother Nature’s living beings are scratching their heads. The trees lack leaves yet the air blooms with confusion.
Similar to how I feel about myself these days. I waver between geezer and goddess, some days incensed when teenagers curse in my presence and other days ready to challenge any of them to a race. Laughter and fun are the building blocks of my life. But, if you try to pass me on I-95 you’d see a grey haired woman peering over the steering wheel (I am vertically deprived), refusing to acquiesce to drivers who are always going too fast, always in a hurry. I have become my 90-year old father: “Everyone’s in a rush.” And shockingly similar to my 86-year old mother:”Why is everybody so stressed all the time?”
It’s darn confusing.