Today and tomorrow, I’ll be working in my late parents’ house – replacing toilet seats and ceiling fans, scrubbing hard water stains out of toilet bowls, and hauling the last things off to the dump. I bristle at some of the memories in that house, when what I need to do is thistle at them. So I’m changing my mindset from bristling to thistling…..and I may even whistle while I thistle.
It’s all part of the grief process I’ve been in for the past year with the way Dad chose to live his remaining years, still holding tight to everything he ever owned, despite our repeated requests to help him divest himself of all that was in those seven storage rooms and crammed into his house. He never considered the mess he was leaving for his children – a newlywed son who has had more to do than to want to clean up a lifetime of someone else’s memories, and me – a daughter who lives five hours north and works full time. Ah, but I digress and bristle…..let me thistle instead.
The Symbolism of Thistle
bravery and strength~
I need to thistle myself
for the coming hours
Common Threads 