Elsie's Notes from New England - THEMission edition

It's raining this morning. Again. I shouldn't mind. My grass is green and my flowers are happy and blooming in their little garden. I should be grateful for the rain, but I want some sunshine today - either a nice late-summer baker to drive me to the beach, or a crisp and breezy early fall day to get my blood flowing. Just not rain. It's raining, and my checkbook is essentially done for the month. Not a good sign on the first day of the second week. No one here is going to starve. All the bills will be paid. We'll even add to our savings a little like we always do. That should make me feel better, but there's just not anything extra, and today I want a little extra, maybe even for something frivolous. Just something. It's raining, the checkbook is groaning, and I had to go to the eye doctor this morning. I finally have to get those stupid progressive lenses that the doctor's been prescribing me for six years. I've been buying and wearing readers instead,

  It’s only a pencil School-bus yellow and School-year fresh How many memories Are bound to my soul Through a similar slender baton From my past?   Letters traced on large-lined pages With broken bars to mark the level   Of an a or a c or an r (which touches those hyphens once, then twice on the arc) Childish notes passed Shy professions of infatuation And later, pages upon pages of Self exploration Angry rants Awe-struck revelations   I know everything about that pencil by familiarity with its ancestors The weight and balance in my hand the touch of either end – resilient on one, keen at the other - And exactly how it feels Between my curious teeth; The crunch of painted wood And the irreversible bend of the thin metal band   No matter how many devices I own Nor how quickly my fingers fly Over a keyboard Or my thumbs press that tiny screen There is nothing that can replace A simple stick For expressing thoughts

We've never owned a really large home. We've never had a lot of extra space to store things we don't use very often. Over the years, John and I have grown to appreciate a lack of clutter - we feel better when we are not surrounded by an excess of stuff. We love to purge, and we're training ourselves to avoid the accumulation of things that aren't necessary and don't serve us well (Thank you, Marie Condo, even if I've never actually watched a video or read your book). Sometimes it's hard to let go of things that we have particular attachments to - things we've carried around with us for years. These are things we may have lovingly and carefully chosen with excitement and satisfaction that now sit, unused, in a drawer or hang in a closet still because I can't separate the value of the thing from the happy moment in which I chose to bring that thing into my home; into my life.  This morning I was looking for a place to store three candles I had remo