One thing that online colouring has reminded me is of my need to count things.
Random things. Things I don't need to count. Like washing on the line or colours as I fill them in. It doesn't matter if I lose count: I'm not that weird; I don't have to start again at the beginning. I can just start from one again wherever I am. But it's a definite compulsion.
It's not something I do deliberately, by which I mean I don't think about it beforehand. I just find myself counting.
No doubt it could be described as OCD behaviour, but as it's innocuous it doesn't matter. It's just one of my quirks.
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The October issue of The Bay magazine is out now and includes my piece on having Covid and singing weird songs in school. When it was pushed through my letterbox today I was in the process of writing my next article. It's about George.
There's a package in our hallway that I'm doing my best to ignore. It contains George's ashes.
When the raspberries have died back we're going to scatter him there. I think he'd like that.
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| Picking his own raspberries |
6 comments:
The loss of George will be sad for a long time I imagine!
Dear George. When I scattered Handsome Partner's ashes in a couple of his favorite places I included KC, his dog's ashes, because they'd walked there together. I didn't make it generally known at the time, because people would have been on my case at a time I couldn't handle it, but I think they'd both have liked it.
The raspberry patch is the perfect place to scatter George! He loved them so.
Counting is useful. It sometimes reveals unexpected qualities of whatever is being counted. Mostly it doesn't, but every once in a while I'll be looking at a situation and I don't think it's a very big problem, but then I start counting and I realize that it's much bigger than it appeared at first glance. Can't name an instance, just have a vague memory of it happening. Then there was the story by Kurt Vonnegut about a couple of guys investigating an ice cave in eastern Washington wherein counting figured prominently.
I think it's a wonderful idea to have George's ashes enrich the ground of the berry patch he loved so much.
I still have my husband's ashes. I did buy a wonderful bench in his memory which is in a park near our house. Besides family info it has "Bike Adventures" and a bicycle carved in to it, a passion of his. The berry patch sounds like a good resting place for George.
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