So it begins

Patricia, who asked me to order her some medical supplies STAT, now says she is too sick to open the package, and not to bring it down, saying she may go to the hospital today, which will mean I get to watch her cats and I can also get my house key back without asking for it. I was all set to write a letter stating that I would not be ordering anything for her in the future and was limiting our future contact. But now that plan is on hold. I was hoping to catch the fallout from that letter today so,I could speak with Hyphen before she vacated for a week. Oh, well. Hoping to see ducks today, and not the hawk in the tree or another raccoon riding a garbage truck. But it always come back to my heart and how easily that gets hurt. I feel sorry for Patricia, as I do for anything hurting, but I can't tend to her while I am hurting, too, and some of that hurt is a result of contact with her. I hate to be suspicious but it feels like she is making herself sick to get me to resume our "friendship". I just can't do it. It tugs on my heart but she is making me crazy and I have enough of that in my life without her added burden. Just like the ducks that tug at my heart when there are only three ducklings when there were originally four and there is a hawk in the tree. Or a raccoon escaping a trash compactor and riding on a garbage truck and heading for the hills, or in this case the river. I do what I can to protect myself, but nature is a harsh mistress. Patricia is as well, but I can and should manage her better. She knew she was quite sick last week but waits until now to do something about it...makes me suspicious. She is not above doing this on purpose, to make herself a martyr. My mother could do that as well. She also had a "look" she would shoot me that was supposed to instill fear in my heart, which it did, until I learned to mirror that look and shoot it back to her. When I was sixteen, that is. Now that I am sixty I should be able to protect myself better from these unsettling friend (time passes)...Donna/Emily Duckinson came for a visit this morning, down to three ducklings. I am forced to acknowledge that nature is, well, a harsh mistress (it bears repeating). How do I know for certain it is Donna? She came right to the loading dock. Emily was more shy (although if she lost a baby last week to a hawk Donna may have had reason to be skittish). Still, Gastric and I feel the day is off to a better start because of the duck visitation and the lack of a hawk in the big tree in back of the library where it had been perched yesterday. Perhaps we should just call Donna Emily Duckinson because of her loss, a loss she would feel deeply, as a poetess would. Here in is the full text of her poem: Because I could not stop for Death – He kindly stopped for me – The Carriage held but just Ourselves – And Immortality. We slowly drove – He knew no haste And I had put away My labor and my leisure too, For His Civility – We passed the School, where Children strove At Recess – in the Ring – We passed the Fields of Gazing Grain – We passed the Setting Sun – Or rather – He passed Us – The Dews drew quivering and Chill – For only Gossamer, my Gown – My Tippet – only Tulle – We paused before a House that seemed A Swelling of the Ground – The Roof was scarcely visible – The Cornice – in the Ground – Since then – 'tis Centuries – and yet Feels shorter than the Day I first surmised the Horses' Heads Were toward Eternity –