Eileen Loveman Daily Posting

My schedule changed drastically this month, shifting from a 4-hour workday to a 14-hour one.   Although it is only temporary, I automatically revert back to the tricks I used to keep things in order at home and my sanity intact.   Alone in the house after a grueling week of work, I finally sit at my desk to begin a column that is long overdue.  It was a hot day, but the fact I didn’t spend it at the office was a needed reminder to be grateful for the slow ones.  After spending the early morning with my beloved, it was finally time to relish in some moments alone.

It is August and I am reminded of back-to-school sales of times long past as I pushed my cart down the supermarket aisle later that afternoon.  The rush to get school supplies has begun and a wistful smile tugs at the corners of my mouth as I am forced to remember that time with fondness and just a touch of melancholy.   From the time my children entered kindergarten to the day they began college, I was there handing out folders, pencils and pencil cases, loose leaf paper and three rings binders, the proprietor of all things stationery.    In between math tests and essays, our nest was feathered with pictures drawn by chubby hands and taped to the refrigerator, later hung in wooden frames for all to admire.   Images of long, squiggly strokes or misshapen happy faces, they are a reflection of our life together and a snapshot of their childhood.  They mean more to me than any Renoir or Picasso adorning an art gallery in any city.  Smiling at me from the refrigerator is the memory of those beautiful pictures, images I will not soon forget.

I thought it would get easier now that my birds have flown the coop and created nests of their own, but find the days are still filled with things to do and chores to get done.  I find myself walking in circles at times, and laugh out loud as I wonder how I ever got from point A to point B, not to mention while carting armfuls of babies while grocery shopping.    

Although I’m certain that I have not entered the realm of senility yet, there are times nowadays upon returning to the parking lot that I have no idea where I left my car.  I try to imagine what I was doing and where I was headed when I parked.  Walking in the general direction of where I thought I had been, I am once again astounded to find someone else’s car in my spot, only to realize that if where I had parked two days prior. 

After taking a tour of the parking lot one rainy afternoon, I decided there was a way to help myself remember where I was parked.  No matter where I shop, I always look for the numbers posted on the poles, searching for the number “7.”  I don’t know why that number appeared in my head, but I realized that would be the number that would save me the time and trouble of finding my car.   From now on, if I can’t park directly near the sign that says “7”, I park to the left hand side of the “7.”    I even have rhyme so I don’t forget, and I can hear you laughing now as I recite it while waiting at the checkout.

Left of Seven.   All God’s Children Go to Heaven.   Like the pictures on the refrigerators of old, I will always know where to go and where I have been.   Cherish these days of back to school sales; be sure to purchase reams of paper and buckets of tape.   You won’t be sorry.