Leave nothing unsaid

If you’re an occasional visitor to my blog or you don’t know me well, you might assume I think everything about getting old is funny. This couldn’t be further from the truth. I’m actually serious most of the time and can cry at the drop of a hat. (Okay, maybe that’s menopause…who knows?)  Anyway, if you’re expecting my usual humorous post, come back some other time because “humor” isn’t on the menu today.  And if I’ve blogged about this before—well, I don’t remember doing it so I’ll blame that on menopause, too!

Clearing the clutter

The definitions of “clutter” include:

• a disorderly heap or assemblage; litter
• confused noise; clatter
• a state or condition of confusion

I’ve gradually reached a point where I am beginning to clear the clutter in my life. Some of it is simply an accumulation of things—too many objects gathering dust. Each of these things must have brought me joy at one time or another or I wouldn’t have hung onto them. But now the joy is gone. They have become litter, and

Broken hearts

I stood in silence behind my husband in the darkness and watched as he knelt to the ground and pushed the layer of snow aside.  Using a pick and a shovel, he then began to chip away at the frozen earth—little by little—until the shallow hole was the perfect size.