Life Moves On

When I get earworms, they stick for days.

The line of a song that rolls over and over in my head - the scene from a movie that just won't leave my thoughts.

Currently, it's the scene from the movie Steel Magnolias - easily one of my favorite movies ever. The group of women has come together at the funeral of the daughter. Sally Field says she's fine and then she breaks. She just wants her daughter back.

183 viewings of that and I still tear up.

Olympia Dukakis chimes in with some humor at the expense of Shirley McLaine and the group laughs for a moment. The scene cuts - they are at the wake in a neighborhood backyard. Darryl Hannah plays with a baby on a blanket - and is asked what she will name her own baby when the time comes. She acknowledges that she wants to name it after the deceased - the mother replies lovingly and states "life moves on."

She doesn't forget her daughter. She doesn't skip that she's gone. But somewhere in her heart, life has to continue to take steps forward.

Even in the middle of a pandemic - when the world seems to have stopped. Or significantly slowed.

Life moves on.

Every time I look out my kitchen window - or sit on my comfy couch - or prep myself for bed, I see my beloved neighbor's house. I see his chair in the backyard where he would review his day with his wife with a glass of wine - watching the frogs in his pond.

I miss him.

The grass is growing - it needs to be cut.

Hubs and Bubs need haircuts, too.

My bleeding hearts are popping up, the beds need to be blown out again. I've got to track down the deer spray and attach the hoses.

Someone has to finish long division - someone else has to write a paper on igloos versus treehouses. I should really get to stripping the bathtub. It's been on my list for 2 years. The stuff is even in the bathroom.

Life moves on.

"God of Glory, majesty. Praise forever to the King of Kings...."