To a Mouse

I don’t know why, but the Robert Burns poem is stuck in my head today.   I’ve mentioned before that I was blessed to have some wonderful teachers in my life, and Mr. Murray’s love of poetry stuck with me.  With no offense intended to any college professors, I dare say his junior high lessons on “death poems” were perhaps some of the most cerebral, impactful moments in my education.


Yesterday’s sunset made me wonder if God is a Wahoo (UVA fan), and reminded me of perhaps my favorite death poem by one of my favorite poets, Tennyson’s Crossing the Bar.   Had my mother not already planned her own memorial service, I might have included this poem, as she did seem to have slipped away peacefully.

Several of you have checked in on me, by email and otherwise, and I do appreciate it.  My blogging silence will likely continue; I intend to resume normalcy with each passing day, but it’s a busy time for the League and at work, and I’m still finding just putting one foot in front of the other pretty taxing.  Please don’t worry; I have a wonderful support network and I really am fine, but I’m requiring much more coddling of myself than usual.

Yesterday was another milestone in my life.  Twenty years have passed now without my father.  It seems impossible that I’m fast approaching a point where I will have lived as long without him as I did with him here in the moment.  Time flies.  A slightly younger friend laughed a little bitterly Thursday night and so sagely shared that if there was one thing she wished someone had made her understand sooner, it would be that as we age, time seems to march at an increasingly faster pace.   ‘Tis true.


I’m guessing this photo was from about 1974 or even earlier.  That’s me with my parents and Raggedy Ann.

There are many posts I owe you.  I guess you won’t get to see the dishcloths I knitted as Christmas gifts, because I didn’t remember to take photos first and #4 of the group is still on the needle – yes, singular, because Sissy has done something with the other one and it hasn’t turned up.  Yes, I’m sure I have another of the same size, probably even the same brand, but I haven’t bothered to dig that out either.  There is knitting though, and so very much reading.  Maybe the next post won’t have a touch of melancholy and will actually share something fun.

Any milestones in your life?  What do you wish you’d known sooner?

7 comments on “To a Mouse

  1. KM says:

    I’m a little bit freaking out that my oldest will be in jr high next year. I’m so not ready for that. The last pic I took of him and Gramp they are the same height! I’m trying to slow down time.

    I’m learning that foundation is important. And that foundation doesn’t have to match up with what common core says. The kids should learn about the world around them and be prepared. I’m watching friends go through really hard things and thei strength of their foundation has been tested. The architect in me likes this word picture. And yesterday I helped out in a little kids class…they were singing “the wise man built his house upon a rock”. I’m learning that you can’t really go out and fix your foundation in the midst of the storm so it’s best to be prepared.

  2. sue says:

    Last Wednesday marked a strange day. I met Rob on January fifteenth in 1986 and my mother died on January 15, 1998. I seem to feel paralized on that day.

  3. kathy b says:

    Channon, always good to hear your blogging voice, no matter the tone. Be good to yourself . Grief is hard work. What I wish I’d known sooner: That just because you are someone’s child does not mean they don’t have to earn your respect and your love. I owe my father half my genes, but not half my heart.

  4. I totally understand…blogging is just not a priority that rises ti the top…ever grateful that you have good support both far and near.

  5. Nancy says:

    Take all the time you need: these things cannot be rushed. Be well, my friend.

    The pearl of wisdom that took me so long to learn: the terms “colleague” and “friend” are not synonymous.

  6. I wish I’d had time to explore who I was. I should have known it was ok not to grow up so fast.

  7. AlisonH says:

    When I was growing up, we had a birdfeeder and bird books and parents who taught us to love to learn about what they watched together with us. When my kids were growing up, we were spending as much as $500 a month on music lessons in this expensive area–there was no spare change for frivolities like birdfeeders.

    And yet. The high-chili-oil/suet mixes are utterly left alone by the squirrels, last several weeks, and cost three bucks. The mesh holder for them? Likewise, three bucks, paid out once. All that time we could have had birds right up near the window for maybe five bucks a month, all that we could have taught our kids by a more direct experience when they were little–I wish I had known. It doesn’t have to be twenty pound bags of seed. (Although I certainly buy those now, too.) A little dab’ll do ya.

Leave a Reply

Fill in your details below or click an icon to log in: Logo

You are commenting using your account. Log Out /  Change )

Google photo

You are commenting using your Google account. Log Out /  Change )

Twitter picture

You are commenting using your Twitter account. Log Out /  Change )

Facebook photo

You are commenting using your Facebook account. Log Out /  Change )

Connecting to %s