Since early this morning I’ve been working to unclog the sink in my little French kitchen as well as the garbage in my mind.
The sink is finally starting to look better and my attitude’s also showing signs of recovery.
Yesterday’s horrific violence in Nice clouded my memories of great joy and peace for my late husband Richard when visiting there years before.
Richard had traveled to France for work, but my journey was purely for pleasure.
Though once my husband’s responsibilities were completed, he eagerly joined in on the bliss.
The palm trees, the people, the promenade were unlike anything we’d ever seen before.
Oh, and the light.
No wonder the city’s an artist’s paradise. Even the murals brightly painted on our bedroom walls celebrated the vistas.
Nursing a box of French chocolate covered biscuits bought to toast Bastille Day, I instead watched the news reports last night.
Grieving for the city and the French, I was also saddened by what I thought was the loss of my favorite pictures of Richard in Nice when I recently downsized.
So much of my life was tossed in the trash.
But this morning, I came across a box with an image of the Eiffel Tower on top where I finally found the photos.
I see such contentment in my husband’s face in every shot.
A sense of peace I never saw again due to the dementia that followed.
Still I believe that peace will shine once more on the faces of the French.
And their smiles will eventually return.
As for me and my attitude, today I’ll honor peace along with the children I work with.
Perhaps we’ll color symbolic doves and lambs.
And I’ll patiently try to teach them what joy to the the world great peace can truly bring.