The mind wanders

In that in between place where reality starts to tear at the edges of dreams, I thought of cards. The birthday cards still sitting on the bookcase. The card I need to write for Aunt Betty. How I envisioned once upon a time making my own, and then disappointed myself by not insisting on the time it would take to do it well. And then I saw the drawer…second from the bottom in the old white chest in the corner of their room. Full to bursting. She kept every card he’d ever gotten her. He picks such beautiful cards, she’d say. Neatly tucked back in their envelopes, always addressed “Hon.” Somewhere along the way, between years 40 and 45 or thereabouts, when disease had robbed her of most of her abilities and joy demanded creativity, he stopped bringing her cards. Instead, they made a new tradition. He loads her and her scooter up in the van, drives to a store, gets her unloaded, and they go look at cards together. They pick out cards and give them to each other. Read them there. Put them back. They find funny ones to share and have a laugh. Put them back. They take as long as they like, have a wonderful time. Pick up what else they need, and head back home. I can picture the whole thing. It reminds me of so many things I need to know. Love, joy, simplicity, creativity… the basic willingness to experience and embrace. Disappointment is not a roadblock. Just a speed bump. The mind wanders and finds what it needs.