Leaf Blowing on Easter.

 As I stand in my decimated backyard with my leaf blower on, I think of the mom's group Facebook post last week complaining about her neighbor leaf blowing after 6:30 at night and how inconsiderate it was.

To comment on this post would not be helpful. I walked outside my house this afternoon and was stunned by the stillness and the quiet. It's Easter, people went to church, had an egg hunt in the park, and are getting ready to attend brunch at the country club with friends and family.

I don't celebrate easter. not because I don't believe in God. I just don't require a special day to talk with God. My sixteen year old got a shit ton of candy from Peter Cottontail and that's enough.

I need to move, I need to accomplish something measurable today. The backyard is a big dogs' playground. All of the grass had worn off from the constant play between my Vizsla and my Doberman. The mud was so bad that I put straw all over the lawn to soak it up. Now, I tell myself, it's time to fix the lawn. Two p.m. on Easter Sunday.

I need to move, I need to accomplish something measurable today. I prime the leaf blower, pull the string twice, and it starts. I start at the outside, move in, and unearth all of the hay from the winter. The soft, muddy ground lies bare, exposed now. I move to the mulch area, and I blow all of that off. Another bare spot of mud. "What's your plan here?' my husband asks. "I have no idea", I need to do something that shows I can control the outcome. I'm close to tears, desperate for results. We discuss a bit more. We will pick up sticks, and I will blow the hay back where it started. I need to wait until May. 

There's a reflex in my body that requires me to move when I feel pain. I need to move, I need to accomplish something measurable today. 

Dermot's health is declining again. The feeding tube doesn't fit, and he's vomiting whenever he coughs. Tough decisions are approaching.

My mom's dementia has wiped out her ability to do most activities, even complete a sentence or make herself a bowl of cereal. She's far away,
and there's nothing I can do for her.

Abbey's baby was born deprived of oxygen for too long and is nearly devoid of any meaningful brain activity. After visiting the NICU, I can't get his face out of my head. I mourn for her and what she will soon experience.

I've seen five horses die at the rescue and remember each one vividly. Eddie died on Sunday, minutes after I left the stable. I couldn't stay, I couldn't watch another one die.

My dad is suffering from acute loneliness and demands attention when he wants it, and not on my schedule. He's angry and full of resentments and judgments. I can't listen to his problems today.

Pain is stuck in my body right now. I am sore, tired, and weary. So I leaf-blowed on Easter. It's ridiculous, but it's necessary. I'm sorry, neighbors. I know it's rude, but it made me feel better. Now, when I look out at my yard and contemplate my life and the decisions that loom, I can see something, however small, that I had control over. Does that make sense?