The bits I choose

It is the hardest thing in the world to be a good thinker

without being a good self-examiner.

                                 Anthony Ashley Cooper

What a long few weeks it has been. So much has happened. Good, bad, happy, sad and some incredibly delightful moments. Such is life, I suppose. 

Sometimes I wonder why things have to happen all at the same time. Why does it all have to mix together?  Mixing and churning the sadness and the happiness into a melancholy jumble, with bursts of laughter and bouts of tears. Like a stew with delicious tender bits mixed with bitter tough bits. In the business of life you, unfortunately, cannot pick and choose what you choose to partake of at the time. The choice is never ours, and you must deal with it the best you know how.

There are many stories that lie here but I am not ready, to write nor share. There is a time and place for everything I believe. This is not the time, and I am still deciding if it is the place. This means I will partake of the bits I need to right now, and possibly deal with the rest later, leaving it in the bowl till I am ready.

This morning I am going to concentrate on getting back to a bit of normal. Back to my place of familiarity and back into a routine which is full of hard work and distraction. A much needed time to think and to remember.

The cows made their way up the laneway this morning. They stood there and stared into the kitchen window. They watched the girl who should have been outside by now. Who would have already hopped into the tractor and headed down to meet, and feed her cows. The girl who finds herself dragging her feet and feeling her energy gone zapped from her body, by weeks of an absence of routine, and probably a bit of laziness.

They moo loudly. This pushes her into doing what needs to be done. She runs downstairs, slips on her coveralls and her Pink Cadillac Boots, a warm fuzzy hat and heads out into the April chill, wishing it was warmer. She walks down the lane and into the middle of the herd of cows that appear to have missed her. Happy that she is back, but not knowing why she was gone so long.

The cows run and jump. They then head back to the calves that had been wondering where mothers had gone. The girl in those Pink Cadillac Boots follows behind, at the back of the pack, driving her tractor. She smiles and then laughs as she watches the cows race down the lane, like children in a race to get to the best bits first. She knows that things are going to be OK, and she will get to her own other bits when she is ready.  Right now she knows there is work to do.

Joining my friend Theresa at Good Fences today. Thank you, Theresa.

Later