Hindsight is always twenty-twenty, the saying goes.
Timing.
Hundreds of quotations exist on it.
We’re working through a rough season in our home. Like my two characters in one of my books, I ponder whether things happen for a reason (fate/universe/God), or by coincidence. I lean toward the first camp in fate vs. coincidence. Does timing have meaning?
IMO, yes.
Last year, I lost a loved one at Thanksgiving, and a close friendship dissolved shortly before then, too. Some anxiety challenges in our home with one child, transitions galore, job challenges…It was a rough fall.
Then came spring/summer.
Last day in the sun. Saying goodbye to our beloved Indy.
I was supposed to have been out of state this weekend on a press tour/writing media trip. It got delayed (for some reason by the PR company). Then our 15-year-old cat, our beloved Indy (named after yes, Indiana Jones) took a sickly downward spiral while we were away on vacation over Independence Day. We rushed home while our cat-sitter took Indy to the vet on July 5th; thank goodness they were open! She just happened to be checking in on my cat and gardens when he got very sick. I was grateful she was here. Indy was our son’s BFF and one of my fur-babies before human-babies. My son had to go away to a camp two days later. Thankfully, Indy came home from the vet and made it to see his bestie again. Another week later, after diligent hospice care and TLC, Indy joined the warrior cats in the sky. Now we are all processing the grief. But the timing…we are thankful we were here for him.
15 years of love…
Well, hmm, that timing thing? We had planned to adopt a new cat for the kids—a three-month in-the-making surprise. It was all planned ahead of time. When Indy fell ill, we told the kids about the surprise, and the new cat arrived last week per the already planned schedule…and such a joy she’s been to add to our family. Not meant to be a replacement, but rather a companion for Indy, here she is, my new buddy sitting beside me while I write, and a youthful spirit for the kids. She is chatty, sweet, affectionate, and frisky! Another interesting point: the cat’s name is Tres (she was found and fostered; a young 1-year-old momma with three kittens, hence Tres). I am revising a new book where the protagonist has cats; one is named Tres. I do not lie. This naming happened BEFORE we even knew of our new cat’s existence. Eerie…or fate? Timing?
Tres looking out her favorite spot, and over my petunias.
Mother Nature, usually a BFF of mine (as I love everything nature…landscapes, wildlife, exploring our world’s gems), served me a cold dose of reality this summer. My flower gardens are my third love (after family/pets and writing)…they even come before coffee! This year, the rabbits, voles, ants, beetles, fungi/microbes and God-knows what else have decided my numerous and bountiful gardens are their all-you-can-eat buffet.
How can a person become so attached to flowers? I don’t know. Flowers are my utopia. They bring me joy. I baby them. To see meadow sage and phlox I planted ten years ago and have nurtured since, be taken out in one fell swoop—heart-wrenching. Catmint nibbled. Day lilies devoured from the ground up. Raspberries chewed by beetles (still holding hope for a fall crop…), apple trees that have struggled since their planting years ago once again dropping leaves and unripe fruit. Asiatic lilies gave up the fight against the beetles this spring. So much loss.
…I replanted some flowers, repeatedly, only to have the voles delight in another a la carte meal. I hired the Vole Whisperer to come and do his magic…and I *hope* we’ve taken a positive turn after the carnage. I’ve got zealous voles apparently. So-many-holes.
