I wish I could sleep past 7, but it doesn't happen. It's all good, because I wake up, start writing, and look out to the world for its magic....or its fallen leaves. Mt. Pleasant and all surrounding streets are inundated right now. We have sycamores, maples, oaks, and sassafras trees galore and even though I thought the crazy winds from the other night would blow them all away, it only loosened them all up so they'd fall all at once.
Now, I don't have trees.
One of the reasons I chose my house is that I envisioned leaves would fall on all my neighbors' homes and not mine. I was a fool to think that, but it was a clever idea. This morning, I watched Edem go outside and attempt to rake the leaves into neat piles, sort of getting overwhelmed, and eventually giving up. I let him go at it, because I know how futile it all is. As soon as you rake a few, more blow in to replace them. It's best to wait for all of them to fall, then go lawn-mower crazy.
A few moments later, my 91-year old neighbor, Stephaney, came outside and began to labor. She's from Poland, speaks very little English, and refers to me as Bronco. When I see her we have short conversations like, "Oh, Bronco. The snow. The snow. Oh, Bronco, The heat. The heat. Oh, Bronco. So tired. So tired. Oh, Bronco. The boys? The boys?" She is one of my favorite neighbors. Her son, Paul, who is a real-estate agent in NYC, comes to visit her often and he works just as hard as she does. He just can't get here as often as he wants to. He lost his father a year ago, she her husband (me another neighbor who called me Bronco), and for now Stephaney's all alone. Glamis the Wonderdog, however, loves to run to her house every chance she can get. Why? Because in Stephaney's words, "Glamis, psie cię, robię kiełbasę i pierogi. Gotuję bekon tylko dla Ciebie," which translates as, "Glamis, you dog you, I make you kielbasa and perogies. I also cooked you bacon, just for you." Glamis loves to dine there. Stephaney makes Glamis a plate and laughs and laughs, clapping her hands while Glamis devours the meals prepared for her.
Yesterday, however, I finished a 3-hour writing marathon and saw Stephaney outside with her rake. It just about crushed me. It was drizzling, and I was heading out for a run, but thought, "No. I can't let this happen." Her yard was covered in fallen leaves, so I got my rake, my leaf claws (the big-ass yellow hand clamps that let me pick up large amounts of leaves at one time), and several leaf bags. 2-hours later, she and I worked together to clear the side of her house.
91-years old.
She didn't stop, and as I helped I listened to her breathing. It was not easy for her. She constantly pointed to her swollen ankles and said things like, "My knee. It's no good." And I channeled my older sister who works so hard to help my parents and wish I could be there to help, too. I know it sucks to get old, and I channeled Shaun and his family who irreplaceably helped my Grandma Vera back in the day and Karen and Gary who were God-saviors for my Grannie Annie. People need neighbors, especially elderly people.
"Liście, Bronco. Liście. Tyle liści."
The leaves, Bryan. So many leaves.
And I raked. And I created a curbside nirvana on both sides of her street.
At one point I said to her, "Imagine if all these leaves were worth money, and we could cash all this in," in which she replied, "Jeśil tylko, Bronco. Gdyby tylko." If only...if only...
And almost 30 bags later, we can see her grass again. And for a few moments in time I felt like I was doing something right.
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