Stoop place of tranquility, reflection

I have a love/hate relationship with mosquitoes. They love me (apparently, I’m delicious) and I hate them.

Weather allowing, we begin each day at Head Acres on the front stoop, coffee in hand, watching the sun rise. The second bit of welcoming the day involves me wrestling dogs away from my coffee cup while my husband Wayne swats at mosquitoes. We like to end the day much the same way: warm beverage in hand, wrestling dogs, swatting mosquitoes.

We’ve planted mosquito-repellant plants. I think we’ve planted them improperly; our plants don’t repel the flying monsters but attracts them. We’ve tried mosquito coils, sprays, dryer sheets. We’ve even tried mosquito candles, until a curious lab ended up with singed whiskers.

Along with the mosquitoes, we’ve had the yearly influx of spiders building their nearly invisible webs in walkways. We’ve noticed, too, that we have far fewer frogs and toads hanging around than we did a couple of weeks ago. This happens each year, right around fair time.

It’s getting darker earlier in the evening and staying darker later in the morning. Another sign the season is changing.

There’s something to be said for being more mindful in what we (I) do, in being present in the moment. It’s far too easy to be consumed by problems or what-ifs, and to let them eat us up, to steal our joy. For me, it is a difficult thing to sit still. I have two speeds, all in or crashed (not a good thing). It has been a journey, a bumpy one at that, to retrain myself to take those moments to set my day.

I find comfort in routine. The stoop isn’t just a place to swat mosquitoes. It’s a place to start the new day reflecting on what may be, and ending the day reflecting on what happened. It’s a place of peace, of tranquility, of gratitude for the gift of another day, before the rollercoaster of work and challenges cranks up.

The stoop is a constant during this season of change. Those moments of coffee and chatter, and swatting mosquitoes, set the tone for the day. And repeating the process in the evening closes the chapter on that day’s events.

It’s also a place to spend a bit of time filing away memories, letting go of some emotional baggage, and making room for new experiences. We can’t reach out for something new when we’re holding onto things we should have tossed out long ago. At the end of the clearing out, we’re a little less burdened and a little less weighed down for our journey … however and wherever the road leads us.

Patti Dobson writes about faith for The Eastern New Mexico News. Contact her at: [email protected]