It is What it is

 

It is What it is

While driving back from a doctor’s visit, I starting thinking I need to start blogging somehow.  A subject is always hard at times to come up with.  I mused over the visit in which my doctor viewed parts of my body for irregular moles and such.  The nurse had asked if I needed a gown and I had told, “No, it wasn't necessary as my husband was there and I was fine.”  A waste of paper as far as I was concerned.  I stripped when necessary, removing my t-shirt, bra, lifting and separating my breasts for an under the breasts check.  I am sixty-six and it is my doctor so who cares.  I was fine, a good check up with nothing to worried about thankfully for this sun burnt babe of the late 50’s, all of the 60’s and some of the 70’s before I stopped cold turkey, wore sunscreen and hats and long-sleeved shirts.  I had seen those who had worship the sun turned to leather in their late 40’s and no way I going the road of tanned leather ready for shoe making.

I was enjoying the trip home with the sun on my face in the comfort of my car while the man drove, gazing at the ocean sparkling in the sunshine, drinking in the beauty of the trees lining the road, just happy to be out of my little office at work, out of our house, out of our neighborhood and see a small part of the world again.  I thought about the doctor visit, the pounds I have piled on and wondered if I was truly worried about the added weight or content with everything I was eating.  I have been hungry. One of the nurses at work tells me when we are stressed, the body craves carbs.  I asked myself are you stressed?  No, not like the nurses working at our office, faces lined with despair, hating their jobs, not wanting to come to work as they faced some of the realities of Covid 19.   

I tell myself daily, I am not feeling the strain of everything happening around my little bubble, or am I?   I don’t want to go to work.  I would like to be home cooking, baking, stress? It seems to be centered around food.  Nope, I have always like to be home cooking and baking.  Eating, I have always loved to eat but unfortunately as I have gotten older, metabolism has changed, slowed down and has practically disappeared. I want to be home.  To spend more than five minutes meditating, to read without tired eyes from staring at tiny print on the computer as I add more tiny print and numbers to the screen, double checking everything.  I want to be home.  To write dribbles and dabbles, to piece, to string together words in tales of somewhere, of some time, and hopefully have characters challenge their selves with external and internal battles.  I want to be home.  To play with light, dark, color mingling, blending into forms on a paper tablet or a primed canvas delighting my eyes and my soul.  I want to be home.

And yet, I go, I go out the door like other poor lost souls, to another day’s comings and ends. I am lingering in what light I can find.  I am glowing with beauty of a world unseen.  I see the anger, the hate, with no remorse.  I grow tired with the wrapping of my heart, my arms around so many.  It is what it is.

I eat more than I use to.  I am trying more interesting pastries.  I have never been a pastry girl but I am working my way into it. Oh, my favorite things to eat still is fruit and the summer is supplying such lovely choices.  I use to walk miles but now my feet grow tender after walking.  Solution, stop eating so much and you won’t have to walk so much.  I wonder how the miracle of cutting back is going to happen.   Still it is what it is and I am still working on the problem.