beaverpond: Borrowed Time

Today its a balmy 25, and dressed in multiple layers of warmies and down, the day seems mild.  The dogs and I headed down to the beaver pond.  Its been frozen over for some time, so I ventured out on it, exploring the remains of trees, branches; the totems of another life that reach up through the ice and covering snow.

Our game... I break off a little branch, the dog grabs it and runs around in joy with it, then if there's no agenda, settles down in the snow for a good chew. I sprawled in the snow too, smiling that somehow I was where I wasn't normally permitted....  Out in the wide open on top of the big pond.  The dogs rolled in the snow.  Why not, me too.   Lying, watching the snow flakes drop down.   This is borrowed.  A borrowed place, Borrowed Time...   

Last spring when Mom was in the hospital and it was really looking like she was getting ready to go, we had this big shock when the doctors suddenly came in and said she's all better... sending her home.   How was that?  It made no sense, we were having our private or not so private grieving sessions and it was just a matter of time, and suddenly Mom is fine?  Well she was fine, but she wasn't cured.   

We packed up and came home, organized a little help.  And then I was talking with Mom one morning as I was getting ready to head back home to MA.  She said "This is borrowed time."   The day before she had been telling my husband that she had been sure she was free to go, that it was time during the trip in the ambulance to MUSC.  She was right of course.

Yes borrowed time,  enough for a last visit with a son, a daughter, some friends, her love.  She was gone a couple weeks later.

So now, what is borrowed?  Well maybe all of it?  What will tomorrow bring?