Life is full of it ( . . . life that is)

 

When the weather is warm and windows are open, life in a mobile home park is full. Someone coughs. A child laughs. The laugh morphs into a wail. The wail sends a small dog into hysterical barking. Someone screeches at the dog to shut up. The neighbor cranks up their television. I listen much the way a past generation did with radio shows. Until the neighbor’s wife turns it down.

Back outside someone calls to someone else. Their voices rise and fall as they chatter. One of them gasps. The nosy bag in me pushes me closer to the window, thinking if I cup a hand around one ear I’ll hear what the gasping is about.

Man-Wonder clears his throat. I look over. He’s staring at me, one eyebrow raised, Vulcan-style. I slouch back down thinking I should feel guilty but I mostly feel annoyed because I love to listen to conversations. There’s something so distantly-intimate about that momentary peek into another’s life. Sometimes I am envious at what I hear but mostly I’m grateful for my life and what’s in it.

Grateful that:

  1. I’m not a child, preteen or teenager nowadays. Once, way back when, was enough thank you.
  2. That, the cancer threatening the life of a neighbor isn’t ours.
  3. My day off from work is filled with things like soap-making, reading, sketching and gardening.
  4. That I have six garden beds brimming with life, blooms and happy bugs.
  5. That sketching in my book belongs to me and I don’t have to show anyone, ever. That’s liberating!
  6. That the people I work with are a freaky tidal wave of emotions and personalities which I enjoy immensely.
  7. That, after a grueling 10 hour inventory job, That instead of collapsing around a table in the store’s lunchroom, I wander out back of the store and find a small patch of grass with a lovely little tree in the middle of it. I plunk myself down; whip off my socks and shoes, wiggle my toes, and laugh as a ladybug tickles its way up and over a foot. I coax it onto a finger and carefully return it to a blade of grass. Then I watch a bee buzz from clover blossom to clover blossom around me. By the time the boss finishes her part and we are ready to head for home, I’m as relaxed as if I’d had a couple of snorts of ‘Tennessee Fire.’

(Thank heavens for grass. I mean the fresh green stuff, not the dried brown kind. . . though that stuff has valid points to it too!)

  1. That, after 21 years, my husband still seems pleased to see me when I come home. And, I’m still happy to see him too.
  2. That a simple supper can be as filling as an expensive restaurant meal. It really depends on the state of mind while eating it.
  3. And finally, that I still have two good ears for all the juicy conversations calling to them. (At least when Mr. Throat-clearing Eyebrow isn’t around. . .)
Advertisements

2 Comments »

  1. Oh my goodness, Can I relate. First of all, I too live in a “manufactured” home park. We are an uppity lot here. 🙂 I still call it a trailer and get in trouble. I love to eaves drop but my hearing has never been good so I miss a lot but I’m always a little nosy. 😉 I know which neighbors know everything that is going on. Your gratitude list is perfect. I also would never want to repeat my younger or teen years. Just shoot me now. Grass under the feet is very grounding. I don’t have grass here. We have to go find it in the park.

    Like

    • Hah! I thought this area of our park was uppity too. But, happy to report, it ain’t.. . . isn’t. 😉
      Which makes eavesdropping all the more interesting. . .
      Ciao

      Liked by 1 person


{ RSS feed for comments on this post} · { TrackBack URI }

Leave a Reply

Fill in your details below or click an icon to log in:

WordPress.com Logo

You are commenting using your WordPress.com account. Log Out / Change )

Twitter picture

You are commenting using your Twitter account. Log Out / Change )

Facebook photo

You are commenting using your Facebook account. Log Out / Change )

Google+ photo

You are commenting using your Google+ account. Log Out / Change )

Connecting to %s

%d bloggers like this: