End of the Drive

My view out the back windows is filling up. The mesquite, the sumac and hackberries are all leafing out. Plus, we have a new clutch of sumacs, just down from the big one, that we’re letting grow. What used to be a long look at a wide expanse of pasture is now a short view of trees with the pasture visible only in spots between them. That’s okay. It’s part of the general feeling of the house as it becomes engulfed in trees all around. We’re disappearing.

I can still sit on the back porch and see the pasture. We’re trimming the trees so we can see beneath their canopy. But it’s mostly outside viewing, and it was better when I had a companion to share the views anyhow, and that’s done. Plus, I used to be exclusive to the pasture porch, but gradually the north porch captured my fancy. I guess because I was spending so much time beneath the big oaks tending the grounds that I wanted to look at my handywork.

Just more evidence, I suppose of how things change and shorten up as you age. The long view becomes less important, and you start looking intently at the things right in front of you. And I have to say, the things right in front of me are fairly satisfying and uncomplicated, especially since I like flowers, shrubs, and trees. And it’s not a long look down the road to think that one day the gate at the end of the drive might be as far as I need to go, except to the store to get food.

John W. Wilson is the author of The Long Goodbye: A Caregiver’s Tale