ROMPING STOMPING

I lost $60 cash on Saturday. I will call the credit union as that is the last time I remember having it in my hand. Then I'll call Target. I entertain only a wee slim hope of finding it. I'm grossly ashamed of losing that money. I seem to believe that I have no right to do a wrong thing. Even involuntarily. Perhaps it is evidence of personal failure and elder incompetence. Who will be the first to say, "Mother needs a keeper"? Growing old can be like learning to breathe under water. Or it can be like leaving a familiar land and stepping into a new country. A daily adventure.

Last night I began reading Forester's "A Room With A View". I'm still sorting out the characters. So many voices and each one vital to the advancement of the story. As are our voices together.

Mae S. addresses violence and fear in her journal for today. Her thoughts carry her to public places where people are mugged and murdered. She considers home invasion, theft and destruction by strangers. Then she looks inward and finds violence there, too.

When Gladys Taber traveled to Europe she visited famous places. In "Stillmeadow Journal" she wrote that "(her) eyes swelled shut and (her) feet flattened out." I know the feeling. I hope she recovered. I don't think I ever will.

Last night I walked through the wild flower field and saw the steps of many deer. They were of great variety of size and depth. I could almost see them romping and stomping in the frosty grass. Later I discovered a tiny rut where water had accumulated and turned to ice. Winter has begun in that rut in our yard and will spread through the county, the reservation, the state...