Those 70ish Girls

Thoughts Come Forth by Valerie Halla

I talked with my dear cousin on the phone a few days ago. My cousin said we just write down our thoughts as we continue to do the blog. That’s how we do it. My thoughts are pretty random like the leaves on the trees, the weeds in spring fields, the California poppies now a bright orange erupting everywhere in my neighborhood. Randomness is a good thing. Right?

I heard a woodpecker on my walk yesterday morning. It was up a telephone pole in my neighborhood. The sound hit my ears before I saw the bird. It sounded like it was knocking on my chamber door, rapping, tapping on my chamber door. Like Poe’s “The Raven”. Except it was a wood loving bird trying to coax an insect out from the telephone pole. It was focused and not randomly pecking away up high. Not at all like me.

Our oldest son used to call the cartoon character Woody Woodpecker – “Woody pecker” and we tried not to laugh. .

Breathe in and breath out.

I wonder if I left the stove on.

Geeze that lady looks old.

Hmmm. Just found out that she’s ten years younger than I

am. Moving on…

Today I walked the dog and mailed a letter. I saw a guy at the Post Office who used to come by to visit his old friend who lived across the street. I greeted him and then said, “My husband’s grandmother used to say that it’s hell to get old.” I giggled. He turned as he reached for the door and looked at me straight in the eyes. He replied,”I’m not old!”

I swear I’m gonna be a better, kinder person. Maybe I’ll start tomorrow.

Now I have to go visit my husband in the Sub-acute and rehab center about 60 miles away. I remember when we were first married, we used savings to go to a Moody Blues Concert in LA. We had fun there over 50 years ago.

I don’t need to put on makeup because masks are required. I might change clothes, trying to look like a better, kinder person. As I leave, I tell the dog to guard the house, she trots down the hall and into the guest room jumping up onto the bed. The dog bed wasn’t good enough.

I get in my new car and open the garage door with the opener on the visor. I turn the volume up as I press Spotify and my favorite songs. The Stones are singing Beast of Burden. I wonder if they were nice guys even though this song should be rated R. I sing along. I maybe get every other verse correct.

I wave to my neighbor who is out in the yard. She waves back and smiles. She’s a nice person.

Tom Petty sings Free Fallin. I love that song even though I don’t understand all the lyrics.

I need to stop for something to eat but I resist. Don’t eat in your new car.

I’m gradually learning how things work on my 2025 car. I figured out the high and low temps of the climate controls and now I’m working out how to put the emergency brake on. No luck so far. Maybe I won’t experience any emergencies.

The traffic on 101 freeway isn’t too bad but it picks up near Morgan Hill, San Jose and then onto 85. I cuss under my breath at some drivers. I’m feeling pretty down. I feel guilty being a mean driver. Just keep singing.

Dang. Took longer than I thought to get to Los Altos. I park at the hospital. I sign in at the front desk and put on my mask then walk down the hall. I put on a yellow gown, run hand sanitizer in my hands and put on gloves, opening the door to his room.

I walk into my husband’s dark room, blinds drawn, door closed, a young CNA sitting in a chair at the foot of his bed. I see he is sound asleep. She updates me and asks if I’m staying. She leaves, going to assist other patients.

I sit concentrating on where I am and how I got here. I massage my husband’s feet. I should not wake him.

I remind myself that I am learning to be a better, kinder person and each day counts. Life shows us. People show us. Kind people. All people.

I trust the path I’m on. Maybe if I follow it, I will know the way.

Time to head back south on the freeway before commuter traffic hits. Take it slow and easy.

Maybe I’ll put on some old Moody Blues songs.