{"id":2544,"date":"2023-11-26T20:10:58","date_gmt":"2023-11-26T20:10:58","guid":{"rendered":"https:\/\/gmachronicles.com\/?p=2544"},"modified":"2023-11-26T20:17:59","modified_gmt":"2023-11-26T20:17:59","slug":"the-suns-palm","status":"publish","type":"post","link":"https:\/\/gmachronicles.com\/index.php\/the-suns-palm\/","title":{"rendered":"The Sun’s Palm"},"content":{"rendered":"

The sun has no voice, surely, so I must have imagined that call.\u00a0 It summoned me outside as it continued its ascent in the bright, early hours of the morning after Thanksgiving.\u00a0 The striated rosy and berry pinks of dawn over the hill behind had just faded, giving way to near-blinding illumination from a cloudless sky.<\/p>\n

Probably will be too cold out here, I grumbled, unsure about accepting this invitation as I wrested open the porch door and stepped out in my tattered old yellow robe and slippers.\u00a0 Still, lured by the crimson tints still clinging to a few determined trees in the woods behind the house and the bleak grace of the towering bare trees farther up the slope, I longed for some different air. I took along my book and coffee, and, of course, the dog, who frets if ever left more than about 14 inches from my feet.<\/p>\n

The porch is shuttered for winter, like a beachside pub in the off season, its colorful flower pots retired to storage and cheery cushions stashed in the garage.\u00a0 But on this particular morning, there was an odd, welcoming draw in its lean openness.\u00a0 To wrest one of the creaking old iron chairs around sideways was the work of a moment.\u00a0 There!\u00a0 Now I could read without squinting straight into the rising sun, and I perched.<\/p>\n

A chilly breeze denied the sun\u2019s promised warmth, and I hoisted the collar on my old bathrobe higher around my neck, inhaling deeply, once, twice, then three times, not entirely sure why this perch inspired the deep breathing exercises.\u00a0 The sun settled on my right cheek and hand, holding in place like the lingering touch of someone familiar.<\/p>\n

The dog, in his elevation some seven inches above ground, struggled to settle.\u00a0 His requisite security patrol around the visible perimeter completed, he sat briefly on the concrete, then for a fraction of a second on the grass, before he came to stretch up and position both paws gently onto my thigh. This telegram read:\u00a0 The grass is wet and the concrete is cold.\u00a0 What shall we do?\u00a0 Appreciating his dilemma, I plucked one of his beds off the floor of my adjacent office, dropped it on the porch concrete, and sighed with satisfaction along with him as he jumped in. He curled up with face toward the sun and gaze toward the woods, from which despicable aliens like turkeys or deer might always encroach. There being none in sight, he closed his eyes.\"\"<\/p>\n

With fresh clarity bestowed by the warm light and wafting winter air, I could admit why I needed that deep breathing.\u00a0 I let that discomfort stand up on two feet and sat with it, staring into the trees, my finger holding my place in the little book I was ignoring.\u00a0 Thanksgiving Day was a tough one, a low-key version of the holiday, or what I sometimes call an \u201coff year\u201d.\u00a0 I desperately missed my late parents, who loved rowdy family groups and festive holiday gatherings.\u00a0 I missed my extended family, all understandably occupied with other branches of their own families, an inevitable calendar result of these holiday rotations.\u00a0 Memories of earlier holidays, especially before some of the beloved had left us, scrolled across my forest view like old movies on a screen, and my eyes briefly welled with tears.\u00a0 I tried one sip of coffee, now completely cold and slightly bitter.<\/p>\n

Hard to say how long I sat there, the sun steady in its grasp on my cheek, like a comforting palm.\u00a0 As I felt my chest relax, I closed my eyes and thought, shoot, I could doze, sitting right here.\u00a0 And I remembered, with gratitude and for the umpteenth time:\u00a0 There is nothing that begins to ease sorrow more readily than staring it right in the face.<\/p>\n

The dog raised his head, nose twitching briskly to re-examine potential threats signaled on the breeze, and it seemed best not to doze where one could inadvertently slump forward onto concrete.\u00a0 The hard day of lingering loss was behind me, a bright new morning begun, with groceries to procure and a table to set for guests coming later.\u00a0 The peaks and valleys of the holidays, sometimes so closely knitted it is hard to distinguish between them, can take on different tones when an interval to sit still and breathe is afforded.<\/p>\n

Thankful for the call of the sun and carrying the feel of that warm palm with me, I started back into the house.\u00a0 Time to be up and at it.\u00a0 And if the call comes again tomorrow morning, I\u2019ll be listening.<\/p>\n

\"\"<\/p>\n

 <\/p>\n","protected":false},"excerpt":{"rendered":"

The sun has no voice, surely, so I must have imagined that call.\u00a0 It summoned me outside as it continued its ascent in the bright, early hours of the morning after Thanksgiving.\u00a0 The striated rosy and berry pinks of dawn over the hill behind had just faded, giving way to near-blinding illumination from a cloudless […]<\/p>\n","protected":false},"author":4,"featured_media":1875,"comment_status":"open","ping_status":"closed","sticky":false,"template":"","format":"standard","meta":{"footnotes":""},"categories":[10,12],"tags":[26,270,231,269],"class_list":["post-2544","post","type-post","status-publish","format-standard","has-post-thumbnail","hentry","category-holidays","category-mid-life-adventures","tag-holiday-memories","tag-porches","tag-thanksgiving","tag-winter-views"],"_links":{"self":[{"href":"https:\/\/gmachronicles.com\/index.php\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/posts\/2544","targetHints":{"allow":["GET"]}}],"collection":[{"href":"https:\/\/gmachronicles.com\/index.php\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/posts"}],"about":[{"href":"https:\/\/gmachronicles.com\/index.php\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/types\/post"}],"author":[{"embeddable":true,"href":"https:\/\/gmachronicles.com\/index.php\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/users\/4"}],"replies":[{"embeddable":true,"href":"https:\/\/gmachronicles.com\/index.php\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/comments?post=2544"}],"version-history":[{"count":0,"href":"https:\/\/gmachronicles.com\/index.php\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/posts\/2544\/revisions"}],"wp:featuredmedia":[{"embeddable":true,"href":"https:\/\/gmachronicles.com\/index.php\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/media\/1875"}],"wp:attachment":[{"href":"https:\/\/gmachronicles.com\/index.php\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/media?parent=2544"}],"wp:term":[{"taxonomy":"category","embeddable":true,"href":"https:\/\/gmachronicles.com\/index.php\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/categories?post=2544"},{"taxonomy":"post_tag","embeddable":true,"href":"https:\/\/gmachronicles.com\/index.php\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/tags?post=2544"}],"curies":[{"name":"wp","href":"https:\/\/api.w.org\/{rel}","templated":true}]}}