Boreal Witch

I find that we go through some days thinking "What if?" It reminds me of the movie, Sliding Doors. The basic premise of the movie is "what if" the main character caught the train. How would her life be different?

I know I've asked that before in thousands of situations. What if I did this instead of that, what if I talked to this person, what if I didn't take that job, etc. Chalk everything up to a learning experience, I suppose, but it seems that certain things deserve more of a "what if" contemplation than others.

Take today's playdate, for instance. Arthur, Jade, and I were down by Bellaine Lake, throwing rocks in the water. We had just finished our walk and Arthur and I were going to get ready to go and pick up Robinson. Suddenly, Jade ran into the water.

Bellaine Lake is pretty shallow - for the first foot. After that there is a very steep drop off that you can't see because the water is so murky. Jade went running into the water, lost her footing at the drop-off and fell face first into the water. I didn't even stop to think, but ran into the water and pulled her out. She didn't even have time to swallow any of the lake water, so she was absolutely fine, just a little frightened.

As I was driving to pick up Robinson, I thought about the "what ifs." There's really no telling what might have happened had none of us been down there.

The most amazing part was that when we got to Robinson's office, Arthur told me quite clearly that we had to "tell Daddy about Jade in the water." And Arthur did, right down to me going back in the water to pull out her shoe. He even answered Robinson's questions.

Sure makes a person consider swimming lessons.

Blessed be.

My grandmother suffered a stroke the other day and has been in the hospital. She has fairly good brain activity but her brain stem has been significantly damaged, so if she were able to pull out of it, she would not have the lifestyle she did before the stroke. She probably would not be able to speak, eat, or move on her own. It seems that my aunt and my father will be making the decision to stop her ventilator when my father arrives in Wisconsin Sunday night or early Monday morning.

I keep reminding myself that Death is a natural part of Life. The two go hand in hand. Without Life, there could be no Death and without Death we wouldn't Live. Wiccans cherish Life, but we also see the importance of Death. It doesn't mean we have to like the fact that loved ones perish, but it does mean we need to understand we should be aware of our own mortality.

There are so many wonderful memories that I have of my grandmother. I tried so hard to keep in touch with her. I actually called her a few days ago and we talked (as we usually do) about nothing in particular. I visited when I could, but I wasn't able to go as often as I liked. I am thankful that I was able to see her last October when she came to Seattle, as well as in 2007 when I went to Chicago.

My sisters and I spent so many glorious summers at her farm. I remember her chasing us out of the house when we wanted to watch TV. We accompanied her to flea markets and nagged her for money so that we could by Made-in-China plastic trinkets. I loved trekking through the corn fields and trying to sneak into the barn (I always wanted to go in there, but was never able to find a way in). My sisters and I made mud pies and picked weeds in her large garden - which seemed so magical as a kid, especially since I lived in a place that didn't support large gardens - and, if we were really good, got to eat a fresh-picked tomato off the vine.

I don't know how my grandparents (on either side of the family, really) managed to take care of us for months at a time during the summers. Sometimes my sisters and I could be really naughty. But they did, every summer, for a very long time.

The thing I remember about Grandma the most is when I went to visit her in 2007. I sat across the table from her and she just stared at me with tears in her eyes. I could see her looking at me, but also at herself. Out of all of her grandchildren, I alone was blessed with her thick, wavy auburn hair. Out of my sisters, I look the most like my grandmother.

The thing to understand about Life is that the dead are not ever gone. They Live through you.

Blessed be.

Last night before Robinson and I went to bed, he related a very sweet story to me. Arthur was helping Robinson mow the lawn, but then saw the raspberries and ran off to go eat some. Robinson went over and heard Arthur saying, "Thank you. Thank you. Thank you," as he plucked berry after berry off of the bush.

Robinson asked Arthur who he was thanking and Arthur said, "The raspberries."

Thanks for the berries!

Blessed be.