Friday, December 29, 2006

The Last Time

This is our last post of 2006. When we write again on Monday, it will be January 1, 2007, and Roger and I will have marked the 18th anniversary of the first time we met, at a New Year's Eve party in 1988. We won't be going to any New Year's Eve parties this year. Would it surprise you if I said we are not party people? In fact, I'll do just about anything to avoid a party. We did have a New Year's Eve party at our house years ago, and we rang in the New Year at 9:00 pm, in California. Our philosophy is this: If the new year has begun in New York, the new year has begun. When Guy Lombardo sings Auld Lang Syne, that's it, baby.

Lately, I have been thinking about "last times"-- like the last time I saw my father and kissed his forehead, while he lay dying. I knew it was going to be the last time I would ever see his face. And it was. Or the last time I saw Jasie, my cousin's husband, he drove me to the Roanoke Airport in 1988, the year my first husband and I split up. Jasie spent the journey trying to lift my spirits. He told me stories all the way to the airport. I loved him so much for his good cheer, but hugged him good bye like I was going to see him again. I never did. He died in 1991 at the age of 48.

About last times, you just never know. I've been thinking about this since we saw the bobcat in November, and I quite over-zealously bolted from the house to get a better look. I scared the hell out of it, and I felt sick about it. I couldn't believe I had acted so thoughtlessly. For days I wondered if that sighting would be the last time we'd ever see a bobcat. How would we know? It could be ten years before another crosses our path, or it could happen tomorrow. There's just no way of knowing. So, really, when we see a wild thing, it can always be the last time. Can't it? I promised myself I would act differently, if I have an opportunity to see a bobcat again, I'll watch it with an appreciation for its wild, wary self. No running out the door, camera in hand.

Life has a way of being kind sometimes. After I made a peace with myself, I let these ideas about last times go. Then, on Tuesday, as the dark rainy gray day was giving up what ever bleak light it had, I looked out into the yard and I saw something moving stealthily. I knew immediately it was a bobcat. It was close too. Close enough that it saw our movements in the dining room window, and turned to look at us. Its perfect wild cat eyes caught us, and we stared back. I didn't run out and scare it. We just took a good long look at each other. It turned toward the orchard and disappeared into the darkness. I know this could be the last time we'll ever see a bobcat, and I'm perfectly content with it. Lesson learned.

We'd like to wish everyone a wonderful and peaceful New Year. Thanks for coming over and reading our blog, leaving comments, and enriching our lives.
Don't forget Good Planets this Saturday being hosted by divajood at Journeys with Jood. Email your pretty pics to jkblue at cox dot net. And, if you're saving something for the new year, send it to Laura of Somewhere in NJ. Her email is lc-hardy at comcast dot net.

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