The sun sets late during the summer here at the Pond. The heat, humidity, occasional storms and frequently constant sunshine have made the grass grow high.
The Ol’ Curmudgeon gave up trying to find someone to mow our grass for a “reasonable” fee, so he invested in a new, electric mower. He was out there at 7 AM today and mowed for a bit before coming in.
Yesterday, when it arrived, he mowed for a bit to try it out. I worried about him doing that in the heat, but he was adamant he needed to do this.
The sun started setting a couple hours later, and the scent of sunset – which has it’s own scent – and the scent of new-mown grass (and weeds) mingled into a whole that brought back memories of childhood.
Running around in the yard, catching fireflies, playing hide-and-seek in the twilight, rolling down the hill of the newly mown lawn and coming up covered in bits of grass clips. We would come in itching and take a cool bath before bed.
But that was the twilight of youth. What about the twilights of our twilight years?
As the sun sets over the Pond, we breathe a sigh of relief that we have survived another hot day that now has ended, and send up a prayer of thanksgiving that we have air conditioning.
A friend said that my post on Death at the Pond was pretty “dark.” Well, death is dark. And darkness comes at the end of the day.
But twilight is different. It isn’t dark at all. It is full of joyful remembrances and affection. There are some regrets that the tasks of days gone by have not been accomplished, and sparks of joy at the serendipities of some of those days.
There comes a point in life when we want to reach back and contact our friends from years past. Perhaps to affirm that our memories are accurate, or to find out if we are remembered. As I do this, sometimes I am startled to realize just what others remember about me – are they remembering me, or someone else? Did I really do that?
Then I remember – the Angst of Adolescence – I was a very melancholy individual, dramatic, unpredictable, hysterical at times, thought of myself as “fey.” I suspect I was difficult to get along with, especially for the adolescent and just post-adolescent male of the species!
There is this about twilight – whether of the day or of life – it is a time for reflection. To reflect on whether my life has been what it should have been. To consider: is there still time to make changes, to repent?
My mind jumps from topic to topic to topic as I reflect in the twilight. There was once a time when twilight was the time for planning the next day. The days, now, stretch on with a sameness, a predetermined rhythm, that require no planning. I know what will come the next day – if the next day comes. It is the same as the day before.
The grass will be mown. The work performed. The meals made, the dishes washed (thank you, dear!), the clothes washed. Prayers will be said, Scripture read, the Fathers studied. The Ol’ Curmudgeon will tell me I suit him. I will tell him I adore him. We will sleep. God willing, there will be another day – and another twilight to reflect, to remember, to relax, to repent.
Lord Jesus Christ, Son of God, have mercy on me, a sinner.