I still have scabs and scars from the multitude of mosquitoes that feasted on me this summer, but I’ve already made plans for protecting myself next year. For example, I bought some khaki pants (they love the black pants I normally wear) and I intend to soak them in permethrin to make them abhorrent to the little monsters. I’m also collecting long sleeve shirts I won’t mind wearing for gardening or painting or any of the myriad outside chores that come with owning a house. And even though I do not like bug killers, I will spray my yard in self-defense. I tend to be allergic, and do not get small bumps and short-lived itching that apparently are the norm; instead I get immense lumps that itch for weeks.
Despite what it might sound like, the issue here is not the mosquitoes, but the planning. It’s been many years since I could pretty much count on being in a certain place the following year. I have lived on the edge of uncertainty for so long, that it’s a real joy to be able to plan on being somewhere and to know that, with a little luck, I will be that “somewhere.”
I have planned, of course, but always in the back of my mind was the qualifier: If I am here.
This need to qualify the future started long before Jeff died. His health was iffy for so long that we never knew from one day to the next if we could follow through on any plans, never knew if he’d even be around to put those plans into action. It was the same thing when I went to take care of my dad. I never knew from one day to the next if he’d be around and if I’d have a place to live. After he was gone, I traveled, never quite knowing where I’d be the next day, and when I returned to my dad’s town, I rented various rooms, and again, never quite knew how long I’d be there. I knew I couldn’t stay in California — didn’t want to stay — but with no compelling reason to move, I just . . . stayed.
Besides not being able to plan, I couldn’t buy anything big even if I wanted to because I didn’t know if it would fit whatever lifestyle I might have. Would I be forever a nomad? Would I move to a city? Would I bunk with a friend?
Well, now I know. Now I can plan.
And I’m planning what to do next summer when the mosquito invasion begins.
Pat Bertram is the author of Grief: The Inside Story – A Guide to Surviving the Loss of a Loved One. “Grief: The Inside Story is perfect and that is not hyperbole! It is exactly what folk who are grieving need to read.” –Leesa Healy, RN, GDAS GDAT, Emotional/Mental Health Therapist & Educator.
October 14, 2019 at 7:34 pm
Such a cute house, and it is all yours to fix up to your desire. What fun!
October 14, 2019 at 8:32 pm
I love my house!
October 15, 2019 at 9:16 pm
I am so happy for you. Love hearing what you are doing on your house.
October 15, 2019 at 9:28 pm
It’s always good to hear from you!
October 16, 2019 at 6:53 am
You might think about hanging the repellant stuff in the trees & maybe help discourage the rascals. I know what you mean about the critters interfering with things you want to do.
October 16, 2019 at 8:10 am
When my brother and sister-in-law were here this summer, she used a mosquito repellant incense, which might have worked, but I was allergic to the smell, so I stayed inside where there were no mosquitoes and no smelly repellent!