Sometimes I don't feel like the best closer. I'm more like the 'wrecker' at the end of the ninth inning, with three people on, and two outs. Well, more like the 'unfinisher'. Take for instance, my knitting basket. I've got three sweaters started. Most are almost done; I've got maybe sleeves to finish. But no, they lay unfinished like pieces to a jig saw puzzle waiting completion. Or perhaps I could tell you about my photo album of Claire, photos from the predigital era that need organization and emphasis; unfortunately, they lay in dusty piles of unfishedness. There is also my garden, which finally got planted yesterday (yeehaw). Having your garden sowed, for me, is like slipping into a set of freshly cleaned sheets. Everything feels clean and new and complete and tucked away. There isn't a weed (yet) to be found. But invariably, I start off strong, weeding as they come; yet, they come with arms and backups and backup arms, and they threaten with their continuous attacks, which I can't defend myself against and then I'm left with a full and lush weed garden, and very little produce to speak of. I wreck it!
Every year I have the same feelings of redemption. THIS will be the year I finish strong. This will be the year I'm out here every day killing those scum bags called weeds. This will be the year I have enough tomatoes to can and cucumbers to turn into pickles. This will be the year I don't have to weed before I turn the soil over again in the fall. I promise...this will be the year.
My mother-in-law (well, father-in-law too) arrive next Thursday. We're so excited for their visit, because they haven't been here in two (!!) years. However, I feel like it's been that long since I've cleaned my bedroom, where they have to stay because our king size bed is the only one in the house big enough for Popi to sleep in (he's 6'4"). So the dust bunnies, the size of bunnies, have to be removed. This is all good. I have moved a big box (every time they come) from one corner of the room to the other corner of the room. Inside this box is a set of beautiful frames that I ordered from Red Envelope four (!!) years ago. The frames connect and hang from a rod. It's quite fancy and modern and was intended to house black and white pictures of the boys (and Claire) at 6 weeks and 6 months old, all predigital era. Why we paid a woman (a lot of money) to take photos of us in our most exhaustive state is beyond me, but some of them came out okay. The photos are ready for the frames. I have yet to put them in them. They are thus...unfinished. And now the wall we are going to hang them on needs repainting. But my "finisher" of a husband will get that done soon. I promise.
Here is one of the shots.
I know. I know. I need to get it on the wall. I need to get them all framed (they're all this cute). I'll get it done; I promise. I will!
I can make these promises. I'm going to do my best to finish all my projects. You may not believe me. That's okay. But here's a promise I hope you'll trust me with. These little thingies...these little crazy beautiful people...I'm gonna finish with them. They won't sit in my bedroom corners, or in my knitting basket, or go unweeded in my garden. I'm going to follow through with them (!!). I'm going to be there in the end, and I'm pretty certain that if some unforeseen thing happens to me that I have an army of friends, all with their arms, and backups, and backup arms to help me finish this off. That's what team sports are all about, right? It may be the bottom of the ninth, three people on base, two outs and a full count, but I've got someone behind me to catch that pop fly. These thingies will not lose. No one on my team will let them. And for that I am grateful.
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