Is there a purpose in waiting? I feel a bit like it’s a vigil, which makes sense. I know it will mean a bevy of time, a tsunami of pain, a gasping of fear.
I can do that.
What it doesn’t require is my personal presence, but most definitely my spiritual presence.
And I can do that.
What it doesn’t promise is a requested outcome, allowing only my prayers.
What is does promise is waiting. I don’t mind waiting, and yet I hate it. Or maybe I don’t hate waiting, but I hate the reason.
Some reasons are joyous. Some, uncertain. Others, life changing.
And the time it takes to receive an answer of “yes, it’s this, and it will be okay. Probably” is both momentary and lifelong.
And the time it takes to receive an answer of “yes, it’s this, and I’m sorry,” is also both momentary and a lifetime.
Lifetime. Lifelong.
I’m not sure I like those words anymore.
I like the word forever. And ever and ever and evermore.
“The tears of the world are a constant quantity. For each one who begins to weep somewhere else another stops. The same is true of the laugh.” ― Samuel Beckett, Waiting for Godot
In fact I love them like crazy and I don’t even bother wondering why — I just look up in awe every day, gasp a little, and snap. Honestly, there’s not a day that I arrive home without some new cloud photo stashed in my computer.
This one was snapped at dusk near my daughter’s house, and I can’t help wondering when the fire will capture her too.
And it’s an interesting thing about clouds — I almost always miss the grand finale. I suppose it’s because I tend to come home at 5 or 6 and stay there. And even though the clouds are everywhere around me, my house is secluded, the trees abundant and tall, and to be honest, I forget.
Yes, I forget what isn’t in front of my eyes at a given moment. We’re all like that to some extent, but you know what? It’s a huge flaw in our day to day. Too often, the magic is exactly where we don’t look.
But then … on the days that I have a bit more leeway, I might walk out of the grocery store or bookstore or starbucks and BAM — I’m gobsmacked by the pulsing light that streaks the sky with gusto, almost as if the sky accidentally broke and, in the time it took to fit the pieces back together, we’ve almost, almost, forgotten that moment of magic.
Because we humans — we really need to learn to SEE.
“You know, Hobbes, some days even my lucky rocket ship underpants don’t help.” (Quote by Bill Watterson)
Today I was totally prepped for a great day. My husband has been on the other side of the continent for a week, and he flies home tonight. I’m wearing my Happy Clothes, saved for special days. The house is clean. Ish. I’ve amassed a neatly folded give-away pile with oooooooodles of my favorite (too small) outfits, we’re deep in the dregs of summer, which means we’ll soon be cooler (right?), I’m on break from cleaning the attic (self-imposed), and the garden flowers are joyously blooming despite daily basking in the bowels of hell.
But then — who knows, but something clicked — or unclicked, and hell threw open that door. And I’d say I haven’t been able to shake this Very Bad Day, but the truth is that I’m just not ready. Because you have to be real. You have to walk through these things rather than around. Otherwise they never go away, and just bury themselves in your psyche instead.
So I looked up Bad Day quotes. And honestly, they totally sucked except for Hobbes and Bill, so I made my own.
Snark: an attitude or expression of mocking irreverence and sarcasm.
Blech. I really, really don’t like snarky people. We all have so much goodness deep in our hearts — why waste it on the opportunity to hurt someone?
And I guess that’s the extent of it. I haven’t been shot or robbed or suffered a great loss. I have endless happy choices at my fingertips. But today, I guess what I really am is sad.
And I am. I’m really, really sad.
Footnote: Hobbes, named for philosopher Thomas Hobbes, is Calvin’s stuffed tiger and best friend.
To add that extra touch of French I might call it Eau de Pam. Or in English: Pam Water? Hmmmmm.
Honestly, I have no idea what it means. I assume it involves some pipe, a tight-fitting lid that can perhaps be opened with some sort of tool for repairs, France, and my name.
PAM: French abbreviation meaning: “pression artérielle moyenne. Programme alimentaire mondial.” Google Translate delivers an English version reading “Mean blood pressure; World Food Program.”
Okay that didn’t help.
Next try: “PAM stands for Parti Authenticité et Modernité, translated from French as “Authenticity and Modernity Party; Political Party; Morocco.” … … … Morocco?
TheBump.com tells me that the name Pamela was invented by 16th-century English poet Sir Philip Sidney for his epic romance, The Countess of Pembroke’s Arcadia. Samuel Richardson’s novel Pamela was similarly inspired by the Greek term pán meli, meaning “all honey” and “all sweetness.” Ha. Fail.
So with absolutely nothing to go on other than two words pressed onto some sort of drain (I think), I can only assume that Pam Water translates to … City Water? Potable Water? Non-Potable Water? And most importantly, if there’s a water shortage or a water frenzy, can you drink out of it ??? ??? ???. I just don’t know ….
In the meantime, I’ve assembled a few possibilities around the mysteries of Pams, PAMs, päms, and paTs.
Etymology 1: Probably short for the French Pamphile (“a given name”), special use of man’s name. Well then.
Etymology 2: Probable alteration of panorama. Again, WTF?
Etymology 3: Noun, Pam: U.S. Cooking SpraySeriously?????
Pam Meaning According to Dictionary.Com The Jack of Clubs(I give up)
French Meaning: Common Noun – A noun that does not name a specific person, place or thing.… Hello??? Hello???
And THIS is why I studied English Lit instead of Parisian Water Supply.
We were lucky enough to have a fabulous side trip to Girona in Catalonia, Spain, which was first inhabited 2,000 years ago. The beautiful Jewish Quarter, one of the best-preserved in Europe, dates back to the 12th century.
Images include bits of the Jewish Quarter; Game of Thrones site (the one with all the tourists); intricate stonework; 12th century Arabic Baths; and flowers growing up stone steps. I hope you enjoy! Images by Pam Goode.
I can’t imagine any edifice on the planet that might hold a candle to this endlessly spectacular work of art. Antoni Gaudi began his massive project at only 31 years old, and worked on it for 43 years — from 1883 until his accidental death in 1926 when he was hit by a tram. An incredibly massive project imagined and brought to a life by a genius who viewed possibility as few others could, Gaudi realized that he might not live until its completion. As a safety measure before his death. he left a model showing the main shapes of the building that would later be constructed. Anticipated completion date is 2026, and I can’t wait to go back.
Sea, sand, waves, restaurants, shops, flora, climbing rocks, all kinds of boats moored in the distance, a stairway straight to heaven, and a bevy of girls attached to their phones. And yes, it was a beautiful, beautiful day.
Left to Right and Top to Bottom:
Boats on Shore; Step Lightly; Boats Close-Up; Window Box of Succulents; Flowering Vines; Lunch! Goat Cheese and Veggies; Looking for Bait, and Moored Boats; Bougainvillea; Texting by the Sea.
Pam Goode Writes 