There I stood in the middle of an icy dooryard, dressed in an old fashioned, green plaid nightgown, my feet clad in raspberry colored L.L. Bean “Wicked Good” slippers. I was on a quest to see whether or not Barney’s gastrointestinal problems were resolved. It was just before 5 a.m.. I felt unsteady on my feet and slightly off-balance. I would compare it to the sensation of attempting to stand on a large rubbery ball; feet scrambling back and forth to remain upright and arms held out perpendicular to a shaky torso.
Was it vertigo? Was I about to faint?
As quickly as the feeling swept over me, it made its most welcome departure. I turned toward my slightly-toasted-marshmallow-colored goldendoodle and asked, “What was that all about, Barney?” His response was a low whine and he tilted his head in that adorable way dogs have. I walked carefully up the deck steps and onto the porch, Barney nudging me along with his very black and chilly nose. I reached down and ruffled up the wavy, down soft hair on his head. “I love you, Barney.” He pushed against me in response, eager to eat his breakfast.
I could hear the water running in the shower as Dale got ready to go to work. It was still dark outside and the sky was starless and heavy. November is not my favorite month. November brings Thanksgiving and opens the door to Christmas, but to me it is colorless, arrogant and aloof. The days are short and the nights are tedious and frigid. I believe that God ran out of paint when He created the eleventh month, and to compensate, he gave us Christmas and the purity of snow. I have to say, it is a fair exchange.
I have a difficult time with the holiday season. I miss my mother and father daily but during the holidays, my longing for them deepens. I attempt to give every “Northern Yarn” tale a positive spin but believe me, my friends, I am not always so bright eyed. I am fifty-eight years old. 58. Wow.
If I can remain reasonably healthy, I am hoping to live 30 more years or so.
One of the bits of wisdom I now claim is that 30 years is not a long time in the scheme of things. My knees creak. If I don’t get started on a project by 8 a.m., I am reduced to being a couch potato the remainder of the day. Bright, shiny things still catch my eye, I love to listen to loud music, and when I look in the mirror I still see an 18-year-old, disillusioned young woman who dreams of becoming a teacher/writer, lives right on the ocean and drives a jade green Jaguar to boot. As long as she continues to gaze back at me from the mirror, I remain intact.
Perhaps the month of November is intended to clear the canvas, so to speak. A time of respite and revitalization. A moment to catch our breaths before the rush of the holidays, snowstorms, resolutions, and Spring’s new life. And, most importantly, a time to give thanks for all of our blessings, answered prayers, friendships, loves, and good health.
Belinda Wilcox Ouellette lives Connor TWP with her husband Dale and their goldendoodle Barney. You may contact Belinda online at: dbwouellette@maine.rr.com.
