DKG Fine Arts Gallery
Part 7: July 28-30, 2017, Everyday Normal
By Marylin J Nease, TX © email@example.com
Daisies and Fireflies
“Will you trim the Shasta daisies?” my sister Luna asks, then adds, “I trimmed them recently, but they need it again.”
“Of course. Tell me where your clippers are,” I answer. Clippers in hand, I head to Luna’s west flowerbed, deadheading first her daisies, then her cannas and day lilies, too, until dusk.
Satisfied, I join my three sisters—Linda, Frances, and Luna—in the swing overlooking the south pasture. We rock, talk, and watch the flickering lights of fireflies. In the sky’s overturned bowl, the stars and moon glow.
Rex comes out of the house, puts his hands on Luna’s shoulders, and says, “Just checking to see what you all are doing.” We five talk a bit. He senses we’re still in “sister time” and says again, “I was just checking,” before returning to the house. Frequent visits during the past months of Luna’s diagnosis and treatment for lung cancer have made the five of us more in tune with each other. We sisters talk a little longer, then, head inside to rest.
A Drain and Two Markets
Yesterday morning Luna had a liter of fluid drained from below her left lung. Today, breathing better, she’s eager to shop at a farmers’ market in Tulsa.
Rex drives. Luna rides in the front seat. The other three of us ride in the pickup’s back seat. And we’re on the road again.
At the street market, we shop booths with baked goods, fresh fruit and vegetables, probiotic foods, nuts, plants, cheeses, ice creams, and snow cones. We store our purchases in ice chests and go to our next stop.
At Trader Joe’s we shop again for our remaining weekend meals, collaborating on ideas—sweet Italian sausage to go with roasted vegetables; plus, spinach, strawberries, blueberries, feta cheese, and balsamic dressing for Rex’s salad.
We make two more stops, then drive home by way of Edna, a town almost gone. Remaining are a church and a set of concrete steps now missing their schoolhouse. Edna stirs our curiosity because it was our mother’s name, too.
Home again, we find nephews Houston and Taylor have come and gone, leaving zucchini bread, garden vegetables, and peach cake.
Scrambling Eggs and Mopping Floors
The next day, our last day together, is a flurry of activities. I scramble eggs, and we eat them with zucchini bread. Frances and Luna dig volunteer hibiscus plants, Linda weeds the garden, Frances mops, Rex and I make lunch, and so forth. We complete as many tasks as possible before our time is up.
At mid-afternoon, Linda, Frances, and I clean up, load up, and say goodbye, ready to drive back across the state on our way home.
Riding, we think about the weekend’s activities—swinging, talking, laughing, cooking, eating, shopping, cleaning, gardening, traveling—routines marking normal, everyday living. Grateful to have arrived at normality in the midst of cancer’s disruption, we feel fortunate indeed.
To be continued…