Yes, raking grass in my backyard is my therapy. Who need to pay a psychiatrist the big bucks when one has a beautiful back yard like I do that needs constant attention?
Remember the old PBS show "Crockett's Victory Garden" from years back. On one show Jim Crockett featured this old lady widow and her oh so delightful English garden right out the front door of her modest cottage? She was a widow. Probably about the same age as I am now, eighty-two years old. I think at that time I saw that show Bill and I were still living in an apartment (Cheswick Square) in Roxborough, PA (Philadelphia).
All my life, I have had a goal of having my own backyard. I grew up in a cheap ($22.50 a month), cockroach infested apartment on the second floor in the white trash section of Downingtown, only one street (actually a half a street) from the black section of Downingtown (this back in the Fifties when segregation was the accepted "norm").
As I walked the three blocks to my elementary school, I walked past houses where many of my classmates lived. They had backyards. I didn't. I always envied them. I thought "One day, when I'm rich I'm going to have a house with a backyard".
Yep, that was my dreams folks. To have a house with my very own backyard. Of course my other dream was to meet a Prince Charming who would sweep me off of my feet and love me and take care of me the rest of my life.
Well, I got lucky because I did meet Prince Charming (Bill) and he sweep me off of my feet and spent the rest of his life loving me and taking care of me. But as with all fairy tales (no pun intended......well "maybe"), they come to an end.
My Prince Charming is gone now. I have a few years left (maybe). And what better way to spend it than in my (I'm having hard time getting used to saying "my" instead of "our" since Bill died) backyard just like that widow in that long ago PBS Victory Garden segment.
This morning, like many mornings since Bill died, I got up too early. I sleep a lot these days. Sometimes I get slept out. This morning was one of those mornings. So I decided to put on my waterproof "tick" boots and go out in "my" backyard and rake grass. This way my mind is taken off of how much I miss Bill in my life now and I find comfort in keeping myself busy. Not just busywork but doing something both Bill and I liked. Taking care of "our" backyard.
And one more thing, Bill paid me a brief visit while I was out in our backyard. A beautiful yellow and black swallowtail butterfly flew by me, almost touching my shoulder as I was taking the dead grass. I know that was Bill saying "Good morning" to me and sharing our backyard with me as he often did when he was alive. Yes, I believe that Bill often visits me now. And in that I find so much comfort.
Yes indeed, who needs a therapist when one had a beautiful backyard that I can still share with the love of my life?
