Lately I’ve been thinking about clinging — holding on in all the wrong places. Like some of our clothes we’re trying to zip up after more than a year of comfort eating. Or that godawful food wrap that bunches up into a wasteful wad of plastic. But less literally, clinging as in holding onto a relationship or an experience that you know is winding down.
Lola, my sister’s dog, is eighteen years old. In the last year she had to have one eye removed, lost sight in the other one and is totally deaf. Although she is still enjoying her meals and walks, we know that at eighteen our time with her is closing in.
I asked my sister if she’s constantly aware of this and maybe starts to grieve even while Lola is still with us enjoying some joie de vivre and certainly giving us some. In her wise big sister way, she said she knew what I meant, but that she doesn’t want to cling.
Clinging like that, we project into the future and lose the present moment.
If, however, savoring is a form of clinging, count me in! Lazing on the beach, or the couch, with my sister and Lola tops my list. And then there’s getting lost in a good swim or a good book, a frothy cappuccino made to perfection and a generous piece of coconut cake for sure. But then there’s that darn zipper.
I’m Paula Garrett and that’s my perspective
