Making Peace

I think the feasting is done. The raccoons come at night. I come in the day. We all pick. Their bellies are full. My refrigerator is full. There are jars of jam on the shelves. The tree is nearly empty. Granted, I could have had more. But how much is enough? Perhaps if I made my living from the peaches, it would be different. Then I might become Mr. McGregor and try to trap the raccoons under a pot and put them in a stew. But I have no taste for raccoon and with the peach tree bare they’ll soon be looking for other food sources. This is why I take up the cat food at night.

Anyway, this is part of the price I pay for living hard up against the country. Our fence is the city limit. I’m urban, the heifers, deer, foxes, skunks and raccoons are rural. They live in their own little 100-acre wood up against other 100-acre woods, and let’s not forget the wild hogs. They’re all country and they know no boundaries, but I get to sit on my porch and look at them and pretend I live in the country and I’m good at it as long as I can ignore the sound of turning wheels on the highway just down the street.

It’s all about accommodation, something we all do when we find that life is less than perfect. We accept shortcomings, look for the bright side, let raccoons eat the peaches, forgive, and maybe even forget. Get on with it. Move forward. Think about the good times. Why? Because what’s done is done, the cards are dealt, the hand has to be played, the meal eaten, the life lived. Do overs are hard to come by. And besides, there’s always next year and who knows what will happen between now and then. Maybe someone else will plant a peach tree and the raccoons will forget about mine.