Am I better off than I was 4 years ago?
- Melissa Herrera: Not Waiting for Friday
- May 5, 2024
- 843
This week we worked in the front perennial beds of the new house. All the buckets of starts I had dug up from the house in Berlin were poking their heads up in their perspective containers: different variations of hostas (variegated, miniature), lilies and hydrangea bushes.
In the next week or so, I’ll pick up a grafted rose that began from a start of Mom’s rose bush. My Holmes County sensibilities (pressure?) couldn’t let the garden exist as is, so I started digging up sod and readying it to receive new plantings.
Maybe it’s time for me to admit my reluctant gardener status has moved into full bloom perennial mama. As I was digging up some spots of sod and wondering why I couldn’t stop myself from doing it, I realized it had been instilled in me. Some folks are OK with letting the weeds and shape of a garden go, but it could never be me. This will be the first time I’ve planted a perennial bed without Mom’s advice, but I felt pretty confident. I’m still learning at 55.
Am I better off than I was four years ago? My answer is yes in most areas.
We sold a home and moved — a big, looming event I never thought would come. We are grandparents to two boys, one of which asks me the most profound questions as all almost-4-year-olds do. This weekend we travel to Virginia to see our middle daughter graduate with her master’s degree in conflict resolution. We are on the other side of George’s heart attack, and as I sit here, I can hear him tap, tapping, installing beautiful Mexican tiles I purchased for our kitchen backsplash. Hearing him work while listening to Fleetwood Mac makes my heart sing the most.
We have come through the worst pandemic of our lifetime, one that must be viewed in the lens of the last four years as something that disrupted ours and the collective entire world. We need time to bounce back from that.
Grocery prices are higher, gas fluctuates and incomes should be higher to reflect this. But this is something we think about every day. The cost of living has skyrocketed, and what we get paid should be reflected in that.
Will it some day?
Maybe not in my lifetime.
I’d like to leave a world for my grandkids that doesn’t make it as hard for them to find affordable housing or go to college if they wish, a world that isn’t painted as an imploding black hole that can only be fixed by the hierarchy.
I want a country where the system works for all, not just some, where there shouldn’t be one person who believes himself/herself able to fix everyone’s woes. A collective, that’s what we need — people helping people.
My world is better today as I look out my window. There are opportunities I plan to reach for that will put me in a position I’ve never been before. I know it doesn’t click into place for every single person, but I won’t feel bad knowing that after many years of struggling, we may not have to anymore — that if I want to sit and watch my flowers grow, I can.
There is such hurt in the world right now, but for us sitting here inside America, it looks much the same as always. We can’t forget this. My news shows me college students on campuses protesting war, much the same as Vietnam. The kids know what’s up and do not care you think they should be quiet. When we get quiet is when we stop believing things can change.
I see an election season ramping up to be the same one as four years ago, and this above all is what’s not better. I’d like to go back to casting my vote for president and life goes on. But It’s been forever altered, and I can’t turn back. Exposure, sharp and neat, has divided flesh from bone, and vigilance in maintaining democracy is imperative. There is a dark pique of a drum beat that would change the landscape of America forever. I for one stand here in the gap, ready.
Melissa Herrera is a published author and opinion columnist. She is a curator of vintage mugs and all things spooky, and her book, “TOÑO LIVES,” can be found at www.tinyurl.com/Tonolives. For inquiries, to purchase her book or anything else on your mind, email her at junkbabe68@gmail.com or find her in the thrift aisles.