For us the Easter weekend passed unmarked but not unnoticed, there were no Easter eggs, bonnets, white gloves, church, or the Toccata. Marty did get some ham for lunch, on her sandwich. Instead of the usual Easter trappings we passed the weekend at the lake, fishing, talking, and to quote Marty, “just being present in the moment.” It was good.
It was a simple weekend with simple outcomes, nothing profound, nothing earth changing, simply living for the day. In our world simple times are often the very best of times. Simple lets you breathe, lets you listen, lets you feel your life and lets you be “present in the moment.”
The wind was blowing much too hard to get out on the boat so Marty and I found ourselves sitting on our boat dock fishing and talking and enjoying the sound of the water as it fought against the wind. Our kids gave Marty a rod and reel for her last birthday and we finally got to christen it. The rod and reel is pink, it’s small, it’s ultra-light, it’s pink, yes, it’s pink and Marty likes it just fine and as it turns out it’s a fish catching machine.
We caught white bass, black bass, crappie and catfish. We sat on our dock sheltered from the sun, with the wind blowing hard across the water. The wind kept the air from becoming too hot for April and pushed against the water creating waves which kept the fishing bobber bobbing constantly
Marty and I sat, fished and talked about life, about our life before and after the stroke, we talked about our kids, our grandson, our two expected grandchildren (I’m still shooting for one named Larry Bob) and how much we enjoyed being at the lake together. I was writing our last blog post about her 2nd stroke so I recounted to her all of the tales of both strokes. She’s heard them all before but she forgets which is okay because I repeat myself all of the time.
We moved from talking about life and living to death and dying and then to all of the things that have changed and what we have lost because of the strokes and even found some things we have gained because of our renewed need for each other.
While we were watching the waves move past, the tips of our fishing poles move up and down with the rhythm of the water and the wind Marty said, “I wish I could have a conversation again.”
This is not news to me, it’s a part of her she really misses, it’s a part of her I really miss, but it’s a part of her that’s not altogether gone.
“Like what we are doing right now?” I replied, trying to point out that we were having a great conversation.
“Well, you’re doing most of the talking,” she said, looking at me.
That’s the change, I never really carried our talks, I never really was the conversationalist in our partnership, Marty was.
“Okay, I got that,” I said, “But we are having a great conversation and you are a part of that and I love it.”
She paused, looked at me, checked the bobber on the end of her line and said, “Yes I am too.”
The conversation slowed as we sat and talked quietly as we watched the sinking sun slid just over the horizon and cast a colorful orange and blue hue across the sky. Simple moments often make life time memories. This was a memory for our life.