The Blog of mamapolo

When I was young, I did not understand why the (supposedly Chinese) curse, "May you live in interesting times!" was thought to be such a vicious jinx.

I do now. I know now that there are phrases I never want to hear again unless they are part of the sound track of a movie I can turn off if I choose. Those phrases include: "Havin' car trouble, lady?", "I'll go for help," "Please come to my office immediately," and, my current top choice, "911 operator, what is your emergency?"

I am sitting here this evening in my husband's ham radio 'shack,' which was once a back porch, now closed in to add a room, at the keyboard of his computer (because it types the best). He is in the living room watching yet another special on the election. Every few minutes I pop in to check on him, to take him a cup of Chai tea, to ask if he needs anything. Alternately, he drops out to visit me, with a smile or a kiss, maybe a cartoon he clipped out of the paper because he thought I'd get a kick out of it.

Shortly we will adjourn to the patio which was added when the porch was closed in, and watch the Corgis chase butterflies and squabble over the last few remaining miniature mutant tomatoes. We may call one or both of our daughters. The next-door neighbors might step to the fence to exchange a few words and express their hope and prayers for Tim's continued recovery.

Jet trails stripe the sky, still light although the sun will shortly plunge abruptly behind the hills. The hibiscus he planted this spring, which curiously blooms in two colors - peach and scarlet - poses prettily at the edge of the flower bed. The roses are done.

And this is my idea now of deep joy. The husband it took me a half-century to find sits at my side and tells me a story when only weeks ago, I thought on a dozen occasions he would not be with me the next morning.

Our daughters have found helpmates of whom we approve, and while no youngster's life is perfect, we do not worry constantly about them now. Our new grandson is healthy and plump and cheerful. His mother is gone, but mine is thriving as well, as she says, "as an eighty-six year old woman can expect."

I have found friends on line who listen to my fretting and more importantly, read my writing and tell me they like it, it moves them, it has meaning for them, it makes them laugh.

I would not trade this evening, or the hundred more like it we have had and will have, for an invitation to the White House or a Pulitzer Prize.

I don't want to live in interesting times.