Ravens Abound

Ravens came from everywhere when I placed the food offering outside this morning.  I watched a noisy teen have morsels chosen for it by the large female who I have dubbed ‘The Matriarch.’  She chased all the others away then filled her beak to overflowing before waddling off to the side and dumping it in front of her squawking young one.  Then she waited while others fed before chasing them away to feed herself.  Before she’d pecked twice, her young charge was squawking for more.  Not much different for any mother of any species.

Moms are always feeding someone.  That’s at least how it once was for me.  As soon as that first husband came on the scene, the food preparation was endless.  Breakfast, lunch, and dinner with snacks were the order of the day, and now, well, I’ve got myself down to snacks and one meal a day at least.  I finally do not over-buy only to throw out rotten food, but it took me almost a year to correct that habit.

A friend gave me some guidance about downsizing my kitchen.  She looked around and commented, “You know, you only need one large pot.”

I have six.

In these last fifteen years, I’ve fed dozens of people at one meal or over a weekend, and, on occasion, have fed more.  That doesn’t seem to be happening now, nor does it look possible that it will ever happen again.  So, I can’t make decisions based on what has been.  Since I can’t see into the future, decisions can’t be made based on what will be.  More to the point, it would seem I need to make decisions based on what is.

I can only sort through the collection of goods I’ve inherited from my mother (she’s now in a skilled nursing facility), the motor home left-overs (it’s been sold), the boxes  left forgotten by two grown children with families of their own, my late husband’s shop tools and unfinished projects, and all the accessories that have made this place my home.

I’m dis-assembling lives and a way of living.  It’s tough, and I find I have to seek solace on my bed with its new duvet cover and plenty of pillows.  Floating there, I sleep, write, read, think, cry, and wonder what’s next.

That is until I hear the squawking of teen-aged ravens, reminding me the sun is up, and I’m late with my morning prayers and spirit offering which they consume daily.  I hope they’ll follow me or pass the word regarding my morning ritual to their friends.  It would be nice to have something stay the same when I move.