Daniel recently pointed out that we have no geese flying overhead this year, since moving to our new house. It’s only natural, since we’ve traded the close proximity of a lake for a convenient shopping center and swapped a slow-moving river for a handy freeway.
I was already missing the annual flight of the geese and ducks that seemed to be around most of the winter. I had already noticed the freeway noise had increased when the deciduous trees went bare. I didn’t need my husband’s reminder.
There is something comforting about the sound of geese honking as they organize themselves into a long V, even if they’re only circling around the lake. They seem to be making plans and know what they’re about. I miss being a vicarious participant of the big annual migration.
I have already dealt with other issues of what I was missing about our old home by reminding myself of all the things I love about the new one.
I miss our friendly neighbors but I love our new church. I miss the fantastic view of the sunsets but I’m enjoying my new panorama of sunrises. I miss my big laundry room but I appreciate my new garage.
I really miss seeing the geese as they begin migration across our city, headed for their winter home farther south. Flocks of stragglers, for reasons known only to water birds, chose to winter in North Texas, where the Trinity River rarely freezes over.
I have not yet found a way to counter that. What putty will fill that void? We have fewer airplanes here and that’s a positive but it doesn’t take the place of geese. We have birds, coyotes, raccoons but we had those before.
I don’t want to dwell on what I don’t have because I have so much! I am blessed beyond measure!
I remember a time when I was singing the blues about my circumstances: my spouse had just died and there was a pall over my world. I was cold and sad and lonely and it made everything look worse. On the phone one night, I told my friend all about it and then added, “All I want is a house with warm floors!”
“Warm floors?” he asked, with incredulity in his voice. “You mean like radiant heat under the tile?”
“No, although that would be nice. But I just mean floors that aren’t cold. I’m tired of having icy feet.”
Even though I was serious, I laughed at myself. I’m laughing now. I’ve had warm floors for years now. That is, warm enough I don’t need two pair of socks on under my boots. I am quite content.
Some people seem to enjoy beating themselves up over past sorrows. I know folks who’ve been divorced for years but they can’t seem to get over the bitterness of it. Key words might set them off in a tirade against the opposite sex. Friends have been widowed for seven or eight years yet every conversation has the late husband in it.
Yes, each life has regrets but I want to share my discovery with those who dwell on the dark void: there is more life to be lived, new experiences to celebrate!
Migrating geese are nice, really nice, and I miss them but here’s a new year’s toast to warm floors!