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Thursday, April 5, 2012

Sweet Retreat

I often felt that if you sat on my deck long enough, the world would eventually pass by.  Well, maybe not the whole world, but at least some fairly interesting characters. You see robins and blue jays.  There are dusky red cardinals and the occasionaly blue jay.  If you're quiet you see the deer and the squirrel playing in the back yard and in late evening you might catch a glimpse of a fox as it heads over the river bank.  I suppose the reason that I am so enamored with my life here on the river is because it is so far removed from my nine to five world.  In the legal business, there is never a quiet moment.  All day long folks are bringing you their problems.  No one comes to a law office when they are happy.  The best you can hope for in my business is the occasional pre-nuptial agreement or an adoption.  Those, and a couple closing on their first home are about the only "good news" you ever hear.  The rest of the time it's people who are in trouble and need help.  Usually their lives, or the lives of those the love, are in a mess.  A big tangled mess that they bring and pay well to dump in your lap and have you unravel and try to make smooth again.  So from eight in the morning til whenever you get the chance to turn out the office light and go home, your every thought belongs to someone else's need.   And if you're not careful, you'll end up bringing it home with you.  Things like the sound of a mother's voice as she tells you that her husband has been placed on hospice and is there any way that their son, who is incarcerated, can come see his dad one more time?  And things like you having to tell them that no, that's not possible but we can most likely help get permission for the funeral when the time comes.   You carry the sound of that mother's voice as it breaks with you if you are not careful and that, coupled with so many others can weigh you down so heavily.

Is it any wonder then why I love my life here on the river.  Here on the river, it's quiet.  No jarring phones.  No one else's problems.  Just the chattering of the birds as you walk beneath the canopy of trees.  Here on the river there are no court dates that have to be changed, no schedules to live and die by, no one pecking at you for something....always something.   Here, time stands still.  The world and the river move at a much slower pace.  And here you have things you can count on.  Like the old pear tree out back.  Every year she blossums out right on time, and every year those juicy heavy pears ripen and wait for my husband's deft hand to serve them in a red wine reduction that will make you weak in the knees. 

So when the last phone call has been made and the office has been locked up for the night--when the file cabinets have been shut and it's time to go home and live to fight another day, I head to my respite. I head home--to my life here on the river.   As close to paradise as you can get on a daily basis.  Come sit a spell with me on my deck and let's watch the world go by.  Or at least all the "important" folks.

1 comment:

  1. Hi Gen, I found your beautiful blog from a link from about Sarah Ann Coleman who was my 2nd great-grandmother. My mother Mary St. Clair (her father was a May) grew up near you. She told me she was actually born to a midwife on Paw Paw Creek. That place is mentioned in the story. Do you know where it is. I'd love to hear from you.
    Bev in the beautiful Santa Cruz Mountains, CA