What the body knows

"Do not cast me off in the time of old age; do not forsake me when my strength is spent." — Psalm 71:9

I used to work in the garden until noon. I remember this the way I remember being able to eat a whole plate of fried chicken without thinking about it, which is to say I remember it was true and I do not understand how it was possible. The body at forty could do things the body at seventy-seven does not volunteer for, and the body at seventy-seven has learned to say no in ways the body at forty did not know how to say.

I am in the garden by six now and out by eight and that is the deal I have made with July. Two hours. The weeding and the watering and the picking and then the body says that is enough and I listen because the body has been right about more things than I have.

This is not a complaint. I am writing it down because I want to be honest about what it is to be the age I am in the season I am in. I can do what needs doing. The tomatoes are in. The beans are picked. The zucchini is on the counter. But I do it in a different window than I used to and the window is getting shorter and I have made my peace with that the way I have made my peace with most things, which is slowly and without ceremony.

My mother used to say that the body was the first thing to know the truth. She meant it about grief but she was right about everything else too. The body knows when to stop and the body knows when to sit down and the body knows when July is not interested in your plans. I listen to it now the way I listen to the garden. It tells me what it needs and I do not argue.

Lord, the body knows. I am learning to listen.

Ruby keeps a collection of prayers at her kitchen table. You can find them here.