First Light Illuminations

 

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Morning comes again, as I struggle, sleepy-eyed towards the kitchen. First light has just begun to creep over the mountains. It does little to encourage me to fix that cup of coffee and start another day. I find myself thinking of a different song most mornings, I wonder if it came from a dream I had during the night or just why that song would be in my head. It will always be a song from the 1970’s or late 1960’s, it seems. I think perhaps it expresses a longing to have lived my life differently, to avoid the pitfalls, to have more confidence that I did.

 

Today, the song dwelling in my half-asleep mind is “If you’re Going to San Francisco, be sure to wearr some flowers in your hair.” By the time I am busy waking people up, leaving home as the light becomes brighter, I have usually forgotten the song.

 

I see the turkeys crowded outside in my yard, waiting for their hand full of sunflower seeds that I always give them. I have noticed that they have a “pecking order”, like most birds do. The dominant birds will chase off, wings flaring , if necessary, the birds who have little status. Even if I throw the seeds in a wide arch, the dominant turkeys will chase away the birds with little status. I feel sorry for them, always trying to find a way to get some food to them.

 

I look at the turkeys the way I look at people. Often, the people who are respected, have status or, perhaps are feared are allowed privileges and perks that regular people are not. No matter how hard we try, if we don’t have a higher-up willing to help us, there is little chance for success.

 

Life has not been kind to me for a long time. I seem to always be on the outside looking in. Sometimes, I take naps on my son’s grave. When I find dimes, I see that as a sign that he is with me. I see those around me making their way through career moves, avoiding trouble, getting new houses, while life remains stagnant and unrewarding for me.

 

The love, companionship, the glimpses of happiness seem to evade me. That has been my world. A few happy years, or months followed by periods of time when I wonder what I have done to deserve them. Some people seem able to take the same recipe and have a “who cares” attitude, while I can’t seem overcome the pessimistic attitude that being a realist has given me.

 

I watch the butterflies flit from flower to flower. Darting, carefree amidst the summer gardens. Their lives are short, precarious, yet they go about their calling without worry or fear. A half grown rabbit freezes on the front lawn, hoping I don’t see it, or at least don’t see it as a meal. I goldfinch lands on a thistle and meets with its mate in an apple tree.

 

Life, I suppose holds different joys for each of us, just as it holds different sorrows. I watch nature outside my door and the song in my head returns. “If you’re going to San Francisco, be sure to wear some flowers in your hair.” I pluck a daisy and tuck it behind the golden curls covering my ear. I guess I will keep hoping, looking, dreaming of that life that I had wanted, even if I am no longer young and it is only a dream.

 

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11 Responses so far »

  1. 1

    Well written post. Most endure suffering in this life. Hold onto the good moments. The grass always looks greener…I wish you love and light. Hugs, Barbara

  2. 2

    Here’s to your wearing lovely flowers in your hair and and endless supply of finding dimes, beebee. This is a warm felt post. Thank you.

  3. 3

    SwittersB said,

    There you go dear girl…a flower behind the ear….a choice to recreate. Beebee what would your son want you to do right now? You will never abandon him, in spirit, in soul, if you make the choice to put those flowers behind your ear. Too much love to be on the outside looking in. Hugs!

  4. 4

    Sandra Bennett said,

    I can understand both pain and beauty…Sometimes hard to reconcile the two…. <3

  5. 7

    simon7banks said,

    I have the same thing of tunes or songs sticking in my mind. Years ago when I was working in Finland I had that Freedom Train tune (“Gonna board a train…”) in my mind and was humming it. My boss the next day complained that he’d caught the bug and was at home going “DA-DA-DA-DA-DEE, DA-DA-DA-DA-DUM” until his wife told him to shut up.

    Years later I was walking one of the British long-distance trails, the Coast to Coast, and found a classical music tune wouldn’t go out of my mind as I trudged. It fitted the rhythm of walking well. I couldn’t think where it was from and tried analysing its characteristics (later than Bach, earlier than Britten). I thought it might be from Sibelius. Then suddenly it came to me: not Sibelius, Beethoven – the “marche funebre” from the “Eroica”. But as soon as I realised that, I could no longer recall the tune: I had to put the CD on when I finally got home to confirm it. In the meantime, it was replaced by an Irish folk song sung by Clannad with the very appropriate line “So then she sank in the rushy swamp”.

  6. 8

    beebeesworld said,

    I will always wonder what “dream-time” event sneaked theses songs into our minds-nice story-thanks for sharing. beebeesworld

  7. 9

    Wonderful piece and I love that song as well HUGS

  8. 11

    hello, ms. beebees… lovely, little inside notes, ahaha. as always, you have a sensitive way of putting things into words that capture the whole – rich, varied and layered. it is inspiring to read works like this, in times when people casually toss the phrase, “moving on…” as though that were the easiest thing to do… i hope that one day, your pain will subside and there’ll be more cheers. :) warm regards from the tropics…
    ~San


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