Music to my Ears

Here it is, one week and one day since arriving back in Bend, Oregon. Much has transpired in the past week, not to mention the drive up from Long Beach with my sister Laurie and Pooker, my bird. Happy to report in, all is well.

I woke up this morning to a cloudless blue sky with bright sun and fully snow covered Cascade views of Broken Top and South Sister. Despite being groggy from an overly eventful day yesterday, I just had to get outside and greet the morning.

Leighsa and Randall, the ranch owners, went away overnight so I am caring for the animals--a much enjoyed responsibility.

I fed Alibi, Farimer and Tripper--3 Arabians, and then Pippin a jumping Thoroughbred. All greeted me with horse smiles and morning whinnies. Then I walked up to the paddock on the far end to feed Slammer and Mia--an Arabian and Saddlebred mix and a white Arabian. Ruby, an 8 year old Thoroughbred with the longest legs ever and just beautiful doe eyes, is in the middle paddock and she accompanied me from one end to the other.

On the way back, I stopped in the barn to let Felon and Jess, the hunting dogs, out for their daily patrol of every square inch of this 20 acre ranch. They gobbled up their food, said thank you and dashed off.

The morning is so incredible, I wasn't quite ready to go back in the house. Besides, Ruby needs some encouraging to eat. I climbed between the fence posts and walked out to meet her. Pippin, in the neighboring paddock, walked along the fence with me. The three of us hung out for quite some time. Ruby was grazing on anything resembling the color green and giving me an occasional nuggle and Pippin was lapping up a morning scratch while his eyes drooped and his breathing deepened. Horse nap time. It's magic. This enormous head weighted in my hand.

Trying to keep Ruby interested in food, the three of us walked down to her hay piles and I gave her her power snack of oats of some sort. She devoured this, and the dogs sat in wait for any morsel she dropped. I just stood there. What magnificent beauty.

Long gone were the sounds of the sirens, buses, laborers, loud cell phone talkers and noisy engines of Long Beach.

It is nature at her finest. Two red tail hawks dancing overhead--could they be mating? A few of the horses were chewing hay: first the sound of hay straws rubbing against each other followed by a wet smack as the horses wrapped their lips around a mouthful and then the slow methodical crunching. Each one took their turn drinking water which starts as a juicy slurp to get the siphon going: a beginning to the approximate 5 gallons they'll drink in one day. Then their great exhalations which vibrate their nostrils and full lips. In the background, countless birds announcing the impending spring. And just in case this wasn't enough, several times I heard the neighboring chimpanzees squeal as only chimps do. All absolute music to my ears.

The air is fresh and light. The sun is warm. I can't wait to get my new lounge chair to bring out there so I can just sit, bathed in the warmth and doused in the perfect surround sound system.

Life is Unfair--Not Just a Cliche

"That sucks." Two words that I do not utter often seemed to capture the sentiment I felt when my mother called to tell me that Uncle Ed's neck and throat cancer which had touched down to his ankle was now in his lungs and liver. "That sucks."

For just about a year now, my Uncle Ed and his wife Kathleen have been giving their all to get the best of this insane disease. Radiation, chemotherapy, tracheotomy, feeding tube, doctors, tests, labs, waiting, updates, tests, updates, more waiting and doctors---and hope. Lots and lots of hope. Never giving up on hope in fact. Uncle Ed enduring the disease, Kathleen attached to his hip enduring the disease as a loving caregiver does.

Hope of cure. Hope of getting the tubes out to enjoy a meal in the traditional sense of eating. Hope of going back to church and not coughing too much. Hope of driving back to Florida to relax in a second home honestly earned. Hope of life back to normal.

So how is it that two people who have done everything, every little thing, that has been asked of them, who have shown us nothing but strength and courage and love, who despite such a negative diagnosis have been eternally positive, how is it that they get dealt this crappy hand?

Life is unfair.

Not always is it unfair but with a round like this it is so difficult to comprehend. I am one to take what comes, generally operating without a Plan B. It's natural for me to see the fullness of the glass despite it being only half full. For me, maybe the reason isn't immediately apparent, but I always trust the reason. Somewhere in there is something I am supposed to learn, so maybe I'm down for a day but I find the diamond and move on.

I've got to be honest, this one isn't so.

To all of you who have seen this reckless dealer before, wow. The impact is far and wide. It's not just my glass, but it's a china cabinet full of crystal, all different shapes and sizes, some easier to see into than others, some with a lid making the task more clumsy.

Ugh. That sucks. Life is unfair.

But there was comfort. Larry knew what my mother had told me before I hung up the telephone. His energy soothed me. We sat on the garden patio surrounded by trees and plants he himself planted many years ago, watching the tens of, twenties of, maybe a hundred birds dip down onto the feeder and the agave leaves and the geranium to feast on a western bird seed mixture. They sang to me. I am certain. They multiplied in number and the song got stronger. I am certain. They looked right at me with a cocked head of understanding. I am certain.

My Uncled Ed has a heinous disease. He fights it like there is no tomorrow. In that there is a lesson. I am certain.