This Shakespeare quote: “Something wicked this way comes.” Has been popping up in my mind at home, at work, on the bus and train and walking to and from work. Perhaps it was because of Halloween and all the decorating but it evolved to more than that. My bad feeling, which sometimes can take away energy.
Change is difficult. Yesterday we launched a new database system at work which I was dreading even though I’m hoping for the best and trying to be positive as leader for my staff. On a completely different note, my mother got some news one of her oldest/closest friends will be moving far away to an assisted living facility. She cannot manage the care for her husband who has a brain disorder and is declining. This will give her support and freedom to enjoy her own life. It’s sad she selected a place so far away — my mother will not be able to take the Ride there (public transport service for the elderly/disabled), because it is out of the geographic service area. This friend also decided due to a few minor/recent accidents she will no longer drive–which is probably long overdue, my mum hasn’t felt safe in her car for awhile.
But as the cliche goes: “Out of sight out of mind.” This loss will be difficult for my mother and I spent a good time of the weekend listening to my mother even before we heard the official news. The holidays are approaching — I think that is why I’m sensing some sort of sadness in the absence of missing how things used to be — busy with preparations and people we no longer see either because they passed away, moved away or moved onto other phases in life. I did reach out to my dad’s sister to see how she did with the last storm, they lost a tree due to the previous high winds and she is inviting us to Thanksgiving. She just isn’t great about calling and doing the nice extras my mother longs for and so I accepted and confirmed we will bring sweet potatoes her husband likes and pie and sorted out transportation. I told my mother last night asking: “Aren’t you glad we are going to go there for Thanksgiving.” It did soothe a little but not much.
Over the weekend I did a few repairs and yard work not enough though the cold is rapidly approaching and descending later this week. I needed our handyman’s assistance with our storm windows and few other items and he did finally assist me yesterday. I also had to ask for an extension of time for our seawall permit to do the compliance applications. I’ll spare the gory details of the red tape cliche but it’s all time and effort and draining. I didn’t have any time really to do any polishing on the book or any literary work.
After writing out the request, I looked out the window and saw someone in our backyard. I thought it was woman with curly blonde hair and she was wearing a vintage style varsity team jacket. I ran for shoes and outside and caught her coming up the driveway — actually not sure if her or him but an older child. I asked: “Can I help you?”
My answer was muddled — muttering something about a ball. And I was thinking–“Can we have our ball back?”‘ That was actually the name of a literary magazine/online publication an acquaintance of mine had for awhile.
“Did you lose your ball?” Then I saw an older man, perhaps my age or older, graying beard with a young girl perhaps four (4) years old in a dress.
I turned to him and he said something about how they wanted a look at the wall and the pier. It was then I realized I misheard it was not “ball” but “wall” as in seawall.
I pointed to my neighbor’s pier and said: “Mrs.’s Gregory’s pier?”
“No,” the man said. “The pier at the yacht club.”
And then I understood he sent the older child in our yard to look because the tide was partially still up and they could not see from the flats which are public access. The yacht club to be noted is down the end of our street, several blocks away.
Here I was a combination of dumb founded and angry and I wanted to tell him so but I did not want to say anything harsh in front of his children.
“What is wrong?” He asked me then. I noticed the younger girl standing on the top of my older seawall that I cannot afford to replace and have been patching for weeks and said, “Please have her get down. That wall is not stable.”
He glared at me and the girl I think knowing she was wrote got down. They left through our gap in the beach fence, the town left for my dad to access and walked away up toward Court Road.
Two wrongs don’t make a right as yet another cliche goes but I cannot help how awful and inappropriate it was for him to let the older child just walk into our yard and to act if nothing was amiss and be so self righteous to me. He was being rude and they were trespassing. And I wanted to tell him so. We border a small fence but the wall and our yard are private property and so I have signs up. Mostly for safety reasons.
Our fence is in a bad state along the driveway where my dad had the old gate. But I’m thinking next spring, we should put up new gate somehow with an anchor–somehow maybe I’ll have to hire a mason to replace the post, I’m going to ask my aunt’s husband/my uncle by marriage when I see him at Thanksgiving.