This Whisper was originally published on June 14, 2012. I intended to write about pulling weeds but I cannot say what I want to say any better than I did fourteen years ago. 

I was weeding this morning after I got back from my walk.
I try not to wait until the job is insurmountable.
I tend to pull weeds when I see them.

I am not a person who likes to be in the sun, since I sunburn very easily.
I am a “get things done in the morning, before the heat of the day” kind of person.
Typically, I prefer my shady porch to the sunny deck.

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I ordered a pack of ten pens.
There was an assortment of colors to choose from, neatly packaged in a plastic case.
I had my grandchildren in mind when I bought them.
Not the youngest, who is only five months old, but all the rest.

I knew about these pens from my six-year-old granddaughter.
Someone at school had one and she told me all about it.
In no uncertain terms, the pen would allow her to be a detective.
The pen would allow her to write secret messages.

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I found myself in a waiting room last week.
The wait was not long, but it did allow me to people watch a bit.
For me, that is a wonderful way to pass the time.
There is such scope for the imagination, as Anne Shirley of Green Gables would say.

I purposely keep my phone in my pocketbook.
It is amazing that this is the first thing most people do when they are waiting.
I see it in the grocery store line.
I see it in a doctor or dentist’s office.

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The birthdays of my grandchildren have all been celebrated.
Four out of five grandchildren celebrate birthdays in the span of one month.
Our grandson celebrates his birthday in the first month of the year.
We have a respite until our next grandchild arrives in November.

No complaints.
It is a blessing to be sure.
The four birthdays between the end of April and the middle of May make for a busy spring.
We would have it no other way.

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I noticed it outside my kitchen window.
A large tree, that is close to our deck, was not looking very healthy.
A small area of discoloration was seen on the trunk.
Pieces of bark were all around the base of the tree.

The small area soon became much larger as days went by.
The bark took on a grayish tone.
Some of the branches were bare.
I mentioned it to my husband.

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I know the steps I take in my house.
I can see in the dark because I know where everything is placed.
I know that there are fourteen steps until I reach the top or the bottom.
I know how to walk in my bedroom at night without turning on a light.

My husband says I have cat eyes.
Cats have an incredible ability to see in the dark.
They have a high number or rods in their retina that are sensitive to dim light.
I learned that cats need only one-sixth the amount of light that we need.

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My granddaughter is on the verge of walking.
She pushes a shopping cart around to walk wherever she wants to go.
She cruises along the furniture.
If she attempts a step on her own, she realizes what she is doing and begins to crawl.

She will crawl when she wants to get to something quickly.
You can do it, we say over and over.
She will do it, soon enough.
Until then, fast crawling is her preferred method of movement.

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I remember where she sat in the classroom.
She sat in the first seat in the right corner of the room.
The door was directly in front of her.
Her seat choice was purposeful.

She was an older woman.
She had come back to college to finally get her degree.
We were used to seeing the continuing education students in our classrooms.
The college had just begun the program and women were taking advantage of it.

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I walked into the children’s department, looking for clothes for my granddaughters.
Every once in a while, it’s fun to buy them something new.
I tend to choose things that I would have put on my own daughters when they were little.
At least in the infant/toddler section, that is still possible.

I walked towards the older clothes and realized that it will be difficult to find things.
It is difficult to find age appropriate clothes in the young girl sizes.
There are some things I would have bought for my daughters; there is a lot that I would not buy.
Reading some of the T-shirts, I wondered who decides to market this to young girls?

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I had to pull the weed.
It was growing in the mulch bed that I can see from my side porch.
I have pulled the weed before, numerous times.
It just keeps coming back.

It’s futile, I think to myself.
Then I remind myself that it will just take a little effort.
I might need to dig the weed out.
Pulling it with my gloved hand may not be enough.

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