Three Years

Three years 

1965 to 1968

Nursing’s adolescence?

Yet our foundation was laid

with policy, procedure and care whittled down to three remaining days but strengthened by

challenges never dreamed of

experiences unknown to exist

caring service spread far and wide with courage to stay the course despite shocks of growing into maturity.

A new foundation poured

settled and ready 

to bear this new weight ~

today and future using 

wonderfully sturdy and well worn tools.

“May you have a strong foundation when the winds of change shift

…and may you be forever young.”

~ Bob Dylan

At the Starting Gate

Now here’s the thing. Three days left to work ~ not just this week, but my career as a registered nurse is coming to an end. Starting tomorrow. And then I have vacation days ~ but I’m not going anywhere. My ‘Registered Nurse’ thing won’t be over until February 28, 2019.

How do I feel? Most of the time I don’t feel much. I get groceries. I do laundry. I pay bills. As any day wears on, little thoughts pop through my mind. Not very effervescent at all. More like a twinge with a different face to each twinge. A person I’ll miss, a situation we’ve dealt with together. Service to an underserved population by an excellent team ~ that I’ll no longer be part of. Often I wake up in the morning brooding over this loss that hasn’t happened quite yet. Once up and tired of my squirrel cage thinking, I wash my face and sit down, write out all of that drama and find the solution is to get groceries, do laundry, pay bills and in general get on with my life. 

Don’t get me wrong. Retirement has been my decision ~ along with a little push from my last birthday. There have been many exciting pops and bright lights for a future without a schedule. Without an alarm clock. Any schedule will be designed by myself. And I’ve heard that I’ll be incredibly busy. Over the years, I’ve developed my own routines for a writing practice that I intend to keep and develop ~ giving meaningful depth to busyness.

So how do I really feel? Unprepared because of my lack of clairvoyance. Prepared. Because of family and friends who listen to my drama, offering hugs and perspective. Pool time gives me additional community while exercising my well worn self. There is the dreaded, sometimes, alone time which can, sometimes, be the tough one ~ definitely not insurmountable. After all I’m seventy one. Grown up. Mature. Right?

“Don’t be satisfied with stories, how things 

have gone with others. Unfold your own myth.”

~ Rumi, The Essential Rumi

Life Sculpture

Early this morning, as I wrote in my journal, I realized I was living in constant apology. That doesn’t do it justice. It has taken me a long time to realize that Victoria is a jewel. I may finally been wooed by this beautiful snowfall into this frame of mind, but never the less Victoria is a jewel. There is a price to pay for being handed this gift. Not the price of dollars and cents, although costs here are high for food and shelter. We live, rather inconveniently sometimes, on an island that does cut us off somewhat when the weather challenges our ferries. Another price to pay. 

The biggest price is that of flowers and snow wrapped in fragile grey paper of apology, tied up with the tiniest bit of silver guilt feelings. In the spring and summer, beautiful plants grow early and in abundance. Fall flows through the weeks gradually passing into winter without much notice except for gold and red foliage. Deepening mists settle in Victoria’s parks. In winter, it is usually rain and cloud, often cheered on by winds. And there is a second apology for that hovering darkness and cold wet.

Apologies are to the rest of Canada suffering long cold winters for sharing with information freely. Our cold is uncomfortable for many. Our snow can be slushy dangerous watery snow beneath the pillows and blankets of snow. But I love the snow. I spent this afternoon trudging with a friend in deep snow - only running shoes on my feet. Visiting the park heavily laden with snow, snowmen inhabited the deepest snow, a couple rolled a great ball of snow down a hill and a young man was creating a snow sculpture, one of several he has planned. 

The other apology? To Victorians that grew up in the rain and the dark that love this weather. I am sorry that I do not like rain and grey week after week, when it blots out the sun and gets me cold and wet.We live in service to the weather, wherever we are and wherever we have come from. The weather dictates our lives, even the weather we were born to.

“A change in the weather is sufficient to recreate the world and ourselves.”

~ Marcel Proust, The Guermantes Way