Worth the Wait
by Krisitne Lowder
You’ve seen or heard Gene Kelly splish-splashing down a Hollywood back lot in Singin’ in the Rain? Bah, humbug. You should’ve seen ME tap-dancing in the backyard today, celebrating the long-awaited arrival of a Real Summer Day. “I’ve died and gone to San Diego!” I crowed.
I couldn’t help it. You just don’t know what month after month of dripping skies and drooling Seattle-style weather does to a solar-powered San Diego native. After an agonizingly wet autumn, a dark winter emanating all the charm of the deepest, darkest hole in the bowels of oblivion, and a nose-biting, curt spring - all of sweeping past with the speed of a growing Redwood – imagine my delight when the first day of Real Sun finally put in an appearance!
Talk about “worth the wait”!
Sun-swathed and sapphire, morning pours out balmy breezes and a flawless curve of blue sky. Red-breasted robins hop about. Sprays of purple, blue, crimson and pink Rhododendrons light up fences and yards like neon signs. Rivers and waterfalls spear slashes of glittering sun and toss them ashore willy-nilly. Friends seem friendlier. Neighbors seem more neighborly. Everyone is smiling. The kids are… well. Let’s not push our luck. Tickling the thermometer at seventy-five degrees, afternoon sashays in with an “all is well with the world” promenade.
Gold-glazed days like this, sun-scrubbed and cerulean, make me want to freeze-dry the moments and stash ‘em in the fridge so I can haul them out, unwrap and inhale next January or February. I can’t imagine a more perfect day this side of glory.
***
She wore life like a garland: fresh, fragrant, and festive. Tall, slender and determined, her amber eyes peered out of an oval face ringed by thick waves of coarse, collar-length russet hair.
A curious, sometimes enigmatic combination of shy reserve and champagnesque effervescence, Peggy LaFleur Naas could enliven any party or melt into the nearest wall, both at the touch of an inner switch and often at a moment’s notice. She could speak her mind in matter-of-fact austerity if she trusted you, knew you well; she could also dilute any set-in-concrete views or opinions into pleasant palatability for the uninitiated.
When Peggy Naas spoke, it was with a sparkling kind of charm that made the listener feel as if he or she was the sole reason for the planet’s orbit. She chose both words and friends with care, exercising the kind of circumspection and attentiveness
that let you know that you were something special, exquisite, and quite possibly extraordinary.
Peggy’s Dutch descent manifested itself in an energetic efficiency that rimmed her personality, profession, and plans in snap-to precision. Indeed, Peggy organized her cupboards, calendar and life in meticulous alpha order, balancing books, budgets, and bed times inside a two-story domicile that could pass a White Glove Test with white to spare. One thing no one organized or planned was losing my mom, Peggy Naas, at the age of fifty-four. Mom simply went to bed one night and woke up in glory.
***
Speaking of “glory,” I’ve been wondering: if this worn-out, weary world can trot out summer gold and June jade like the gems I’ve witnessed today, what wonders await me in my Father’s house?
We don’t know much about heaven. We’re given glimpses here and there. “Hors d’oeuvres” prior to the main course. My favorite descriptions include “no more death or mourning or pain.”
Isn’t that terrific? No more tears or sorrow. No suffering. No night. No death. I’m going to go out on a limb and say I bet there isn’t a shred of gray clouds or squishy streets in heaven. Just picture-postcard “weather” into eternity. (Where else did San Diego get it from?) Fanny Crosby calls it a “foretaste of glory divine.” Translation: one heckuva “welcome home.” Mom and a reunion party.
Sounds even better than a San Diego summer. I can’t wait.
Excerpted from how I got to be 50 and other atrocities: a baby boomer reflects on the boom and other splashes of everyday life” by Kristine Lowder.
A multi-published author, Kristine Lowder resides in the Pacific Northwest with her husband, Chris, their four sons, and one yellow Labrador retriever, Eve. Her newest title is how i got to be 50 and other atrocities, by Living Stones Publishing. Visit her at: www.KristineLowder.com Contact Kristine.
