Bonnie and I in Stillness

Photo Credit: Tonia Bates

Lightning in a Summer Storm 2020

An uncommon stillness permeates the house, the lake side balcony, the crushed grass footpaths through the green lawn, the zip line, even the sound of the Campbell Springs Creek.

I look for the chickens. They have gone to live with David and Shauna Pilling

 I look for Michael, Alice and Betty Johnson.
They returned to Alberta after a five month stay here.

The teens are gone as well.   I can still hear the echoes of them, the gaming sometimes lasting until the sunrise comes: Duncan, David, Naomi, Diego, and Rhiannon.

Only Bonnie and I are here for a few days.

We never feel this stillness with other families here. We look out the window for those who still need care-giving, and listen at the doors which might open with their laughter.

 But it is just not here.

For now, just Bonnie and I, the two of us enjoying what in music might be called the rests – the sound of no sound.

Some of my grandchildren and their parents (the Brooks) will return, this time with new friends, but living in the cabin next door. I think of how to practise social distancing when people out of my bubble arrive again.

And I think of leaving to go back to Alberta soon, just to see the hip surgeon and then to have a quick return here. When I call his office. I hear the recorded message: the wait list time to see him is 16 to 18 months with a referral. I am not going to miss this last appointment. Sixteen to 18 months is long term planning that I don’t do in the summer now that I have a spectacular new hip.

Waking up to the sunrise and the smell of the trees and the breeze off of the water seems enough for me.

The unknown, what is head of me doesn’t seem daunting.

So off to Calgary on a Monday and back here on a Thursday. How sweet can that be!

Arta