Yesterday at lunch, I decided to leave the library and wander off by myself. I found a nice park with a dilapidated old Erie Canal Aqueduct and I decided to take a few photos. Really, the photos started out as a distraction, as I was just trying to gather myself after a trying morning.
Remnants of the aqueduct over Butternut Creek in DeWitt, NY
When my 30 minutes was almost up, I headed back to the library and to work. I had lost all interest in returning, but a man has to get paid. Anyway, I parked the car and dragged myself out of it and headed back. Along the way, things became very quiet for me. I could hear my feet hitting the pavement and I could hear the gravel being crushed as the cars made their way through the parking lot. I think that quiet can appear at any time and at any place, but only if you are ready for it. Although, I made that trip several times, I am usually preoccupied with other thoughts. This time, however, it was just the bare me and my thoughts of how my life currently is. Quiet doesn't always come when I am by myself, but it always comes when I am alone.
When Tammie was sick, I recall going to visit her in hospice and the long walk from the garage and then again, the one on the fifth floor to her room. My mother uses a walking stick now and frequently took it with her on those visits. As we walked, I could hear the stick as it slowly and repeatedly hit the floor. Almost like a "bell tolls for you" kind of thing or the Grim Reaper hitting its scythe on the ground. I looked around in the empty rooms as we walked and thought about Tam, our colorful and eventful past and the current lack of hope. Every ounce of me was focused on that and how she would be when I reached her bed. Would she be singing today? Could I make her laugh again? I wanted to be at my best.
I look at creative people and I envy them. Where do they come up with their ideas and then how to they organize those thoughts and put them to paper or to canvas? I am amazed at how effortless such endeavors seem to people like that. Evidently, they have a superior ability to concentrate and have developed that talent. I suppose that my friend is correct and that she can be creative in a crowded room or at a traffic light with the stereo in her car blasting. For, I believe that quiet can appear at any time and at any place. Just take a look at how athletes can separate themselves from the crowd noise and perform at extremely high levels. How else can you explain someone pitching a perfect game or a basketball player routinely hitting a shot at the buzzer? All it takes is just one moment's lapse of concentration and the thought or the game can be forgotten or ruined.
I am not a creative person with superior talent, nor am I necessarily a very focused one. My mind wanders and I move from activity to activity. Perhaps, I have a form of adult ADD. Usually, I become reflective in times of stress or sadness, as was the case when Tammie was sick. I appreciate those times and tend to remember them well. Things are amplified for me and everything else is blocked out.
Unfortunately, those moments are rare and I am normally too self absorbed. I just wish that the quiet didn't appear for me at such sad moments in my life and that I could be more reflective with those that I love when they are alive and with me. Tammie, I miss you.
Tammie sang this song on one of our hospice visits -
