It just so happens that the 'Rona has been visiting our house for the past few weeks and the way I see it, if I can't manage a blog post during these weeks of convalescing/quarantining, this blog needs to just give up the ghost, as it were.
Funny that picking up where I left off blogging puts me smack dab in the middle of rose season. I haven't been able to smell (or taste) anything for over a week, but I'd gladly take it now instead of when the roses were in bloom. Thankfully, I still have the memories of that deep fragrance that fills your soul when you stick your nose down deep into the buttery petals. I remember spicy air wafting in the wind while we sat in the rocking chairs on the porch. When in the wee small hours of morning, before I would even open my eyes, I would be greeted with the scent of the rose bouquet tucked by my bedside. It was the last scent I smelled each night and the first, each morning. It was glorious.
And now it is long gone, along with the smell of dinner tonight and breakfast yesterday and handfuls of basil and the sweet smell of fresh-washed babies and the enticing smell of my Matt.
On an upside, I haven't smelled a stinky diaper in a while...so that's a definite perk.
Overall, the 'rona is a big ole buzzkill. Matt took a week off of vacation for our anniversary (19th!) and also for woodsplitting for winter and some much needed relaxation from a "Give 110%" kinda job... and we've done a whole lotta nothing the entire week. No date night. No wood prep. No fun. No refreshment. Not even any TASTE! (Cooking is very hard since 'cooking by taste' is my MO) Just overall feeling crummy.
Yesterday was supposed to be Corynn's graduation party and that had to be cancelled and rescheduled until (likely) I have no flowers left to decorate tables and the flower circle is all brown.
These, of course, are all silly and petty inconveniences compared to the hard and painful realities of the current trajectory that America is on that continues to beat us down. A world without any sense. Tragedy in Afghanistan. Travesty in America. Illogical silliness. Brutality. Finality. Tyranny. Government Overreach. Nefarious leaders doing harm in the most brazen ways. Well intentioned people calling it good. History that is repeating itself that no one understands because, oh yeah, no one took the time to LEARN history in the first place. And, oh yeah, things like THAT don't happen anymore. Things like THAT would never happen to us!
I've just finished reading Gerda Weissman Kleins' books All But My Life and The Hours After. So tragically good. So terribly sad. I could not put All But My Life down and I could not read even a chapter, without bawling like a baby. It is gut-wrenching.
I have always loved to read memoirs and books on the subject of Nazi Germany and World War II. I have been fascinated by them partly because my own Oma and Opa risked their lives to work in the Dutch Underground Resistance and reading these stories has made me feel closer to them. But I think, mostly, it is because these stories point to a time when there was such resilience, such strength. Such FAITH. It was a time of HEROES and heroism. They are profound stories of heroes doing what they must at a time that, surely, we have learned from and grown out of. There was always peace for me in that. There was a glorious separation between then and now, between their lives and mine.
That is not the sensation I get now when reading these books- my focus is not on the heroic acts or the resilient faith. I find these sorts of stories much more painful to read now. Somehow the main characters are muted to me- and the wicked, the cruel, the tyrants become the focus of the story. And worse, I see these same characters in our story today. By these stories, I see the antagonists more vividly in our day....and it frightens me to death.
One piece, in particular, stopped me in my tracks...
Gerda was describing the moment in which she was separated from her parents and sent to a separate concentration camp... asking the same question I have often asked.
It's all very heavy and hard and I have no words and am simultaneously drowning inside with ALL THE WORDS.
But nothing comes to me except that once upon a time, I stopped and smelled the roses.