The Interoffice Envelope

I never really gave them much thought before – the Interoffice Envelope. You know - the one that circulates around the office with the dire warning “Do Not Throw Away Until All Lines Have Been Used.” Sort of makes you wonder doesn’t it – what would happen if you really did throw it away before all the lines were used. Perhaps the same thing that happens to people who remove the “Do Not Remove under penalty of Law” tags from their pillows. Before I became such a rebel, I used to leave those ugly tags hanging there for years, just in case the pillow police was hanging out at the trash can checking for removed tags. Now-a-days I barely get in the door before I am removing them. Of course no matter how close you cut them, there is always that little bit of white stitched in to the seam reminding you that you have at the very least committed a misdemeanor. That just races my blood a little these days. But I digress, we were talking about Interoffice Envelopes weren’t we.

I probably still wouldn’t have thought much about the lowly envelope if it hadn’t been for my cubicle neighbor mentioning this morning about all the names written on the one I delivered to his desk. Now the very idea that we were discussing this is probably directly related to the time spent in cubicles without any direct sunlight – but that topic is for another day. Anyway, his statement made me wonder just what stories the envelope would tell about its journey around the office.

…so I just picked one up and held it for a few moments to see what it would tell me. The one I chose out of the stack was actually quite battered and worn. It had 51 lines - for those counting - and some of those lines had labels over them indicating that that particular line had been used more than once. I was wondering what it was thinking – there were only four lines left blank. Its lip was slightly torn and doubled back, the sides had several tears, and someone had taken the time to put a little tape on the bottom rip. The envelope was definitely nearing the end of its usefulness. I thought of all the documents it had carried and how it had traveled about without questioning why - strictly for the purpose of serving others; and I began to reflect on who might be the one that decided to “throw away” this particular envelope.

Now I am a Virgo. I like new things – pristine. In the past before this epiphany about envelopes, I have been known to pass up an envelope as battered and torn as this one in favor of a new one – especially if I thought the recipient was somebody important in the company. Now in reality, unless this recipient was a Virgo also, they probably didn’t give a flying flip about the envelope - they were just interested in the contents and didn’t even give the envelope a passing thought. It wasn’t about the envelope at all – but what the envelope could do for them.

Have any of us really thought about what would happen, if we came to work one morning and there were no Interoffice Envelopes. Think about all the documents that are circulated in one day throughout a large corporate office – many of them bearing the distinction of being CONFIDENTIAL – and on this particular day they lie naked and exposed to the elements and prying eyes all because there were no Interoffice Envelopes. Now doesn’t that just make you look at the importance of these lowly servants with new eyes?

Hummm. And what does this say about us as people going about life unaware of the value of our fellow human beings and perhaps our own value? Do we pick and choose our friends, employees, mates because of how others might view us? Do we pass by someone of great usefulness just because their edges are a bit frayed and their lines are almost used up? Do we use others for our own benefit without ever appreciating their importance? Do we toss them aside before their lines are all used up in favor of someone younger – more esthetically pleasing? Do we ever take time to explore the journey of our fellow humans – learn from their experiences – appreciate their worth. Or do we all need to wear a sign that begs, “Do Not Throw Me Away Until All My Lines Have Been Used” - just to remind each other how important our fellow human beings really are, and that although many of us may no longer be housed in that pristine new package, we all still have a few lines left.

Sort of makes you think doesn’t it – you know about what is important. In reality we are all just a bunch of Interoffice Envelopes – serving others – gradually running out of lines. Makes me want to be more appreciative of my fellow man – and yes, I agree, I need to get out my cubicle more often!
©2005 Ilene Madrigal

The Fall of Life

It happened. I looked out my back door this morning and fall has officially arrived. The leaves, you know those green leaves that I have enjoyed so much all summer, have suddenly burst into a collage of yellows, reds, browns, and oranges against a gorgeous background of pine tree green. It is beautiful.

It was so sudden. I don’t know why I say that. The leaves have been whispering about it for weeks now. It’s not like it’s any big surprise, but then humans are just never really prepared for the end of things.

For some reason in the midst of savoring all the beauty around me, my mother popped into my head. It made me think about her growing older and how surprised I was when suddenly one day - it just happened. My mother lived to be 97½ years old and all of us know that is a long life span, but somewhere along the line, it happened. I woke up one day and her eyes didn’t look the same. I noticed they had that blurred look that comes with age. Now this is not a bad thing, but it seemed like it happened over night. I went to sleep and when I awoke, my mother was older. And like the leaves whose purpose has changed – no longer there to protect the branches – exhibiting one last expression of glory before they silently return to the earth - just as suddenly my mother had assumed a new role in my life. For awhile, I was almost angry with her. She was supposed to be strong – able to care for me – be my protector. It didn’t matter that I was a full grown adult; I was still her little girl.

The change will be rapid now with the leaves. Once they flame into color, it seems that in just moments one by one they flutter silently to the ground. In the blink of an eye their purpose will change from protecting the branches, sheltering the birds, and posing as a postcard picture of beauty, and they will lie uncomplaining on the ground gradually returning to the earth. The bare branches will tower over them watching them as they return to dust. Their mission for this lifetime accomplished.

And so it was with my mother. Suddenly our roles were reversed. No longer was she the strong one, my protector. I stood by her and watched as her purpose in life changed. And like the branches that will soon be bare and exposed to the elements, for a while I felt abandoned and unprotected - uncertain who this woman was reaching out toward me for my strength and protection.

I think about it all now – how unsure I felt in this new role of protector – how exposed to the elements without my mother to strengthen me. It was as if I had been thrust into this new place with no experience to fill it. I wonder if that is how she felt the first time she held me in her arms as a new parent realizing the great responsibility of caring for another life. Now it was my turn. The change had been sudden – not really - but it felt that way – almost more than I could wrap my mind around.

But gradually the roles reversed and when the time came, it was I who held her in my arms as she silently and gloriously completed her mission for this lifetime and made her transition to a new life. It was I, who was her strength and her protector as I held her in those final moments of her life - this woman who had given me life and had held me and protected me in the first moments of my life. Fall had officially arrived. And it was beautiful.

©2005 Ilene Madrigal

My Dilemma

I have a dilemma. How do I portray myself to my children? In fact I am really confused. I suppose my confusion lies in the fact that I am unsure what they expect of me. I am a little hurt because I would never intentionally do anything that would upset my children; but I feel that I may have somehow crossed forbidden boundaries with them.

I guess I made the mistake of thinking that since they are adults, I should actually treat them like adults. I think about my own mother and how she always treated me like a child and I hated that. So perhaps I have overcompensated by trying not to behave like her in that respect - at least with my daughters. It is almost like when the girls were teenagers. One day I would wake up and I was supposed to treat them like adults and the next morning I would awake thinking I had it all figured out only to find a child in their bed. I just never really knew what day it was. We lived through those years and I guess until today I didn’t realize that some things never really change!

These two girls left home when they were eighteen. Now they are nearing forty. Who are they? Who am I? Where do we fit into each other’s lives? One day they are independent, middle aged women engaged in their own lives, mothering their own children, behaving like the adults they are, another day they are suddenly my best friend telling me their inmost secrets and fears, and then when I think I have it figured out and begin to express my secrets and fears to them, they back off like a scalded cat hissing that I am not behaving like a mother.

Perhaps they feel the same way, I don’t know? Maybe that is the way they see me also. Maybe I made a mistake thinking I could be their friend as well as their mother – on the same day. Maybe somehow they are time warped into 18 years olds and expect me to be where they left me those eons ago.

I know this has been a difficult year for all of us. Their Dad and I divorced after 35 years of marriage. Suddenly their Mom and Dad are individuals – no longer a couple. Mom and Dad have become independent social creatures living their own lives – dating (God forbid) – behaving badly sometimes – just generally sowing their wild oats and kicking up their respective (if not so respectable) heels. Probably this is just not acceptable behavior to eighteen year olds – these people are their parents – right there where they left them over 20 years ago.

But we aren’t in the same place and haven’t been for a long time. These girls moved away, dated, married, lived their lives, had children of their own and in the meantime back in Oklahoma their parents were also evolving - growing into themselves as individuals – becoming a man and woman no longer involved in child rearing.

Please never believe that I don’t enjoy being a mother and being there for my children. I am sure my son can assure you that when it comes down to the rub, I put my life on hold and dig in for the long haul. However, this hasn’t exactly been the easiest year of my life either. I love my children and my grandchildren more than life. But I do have a life. I am feeling my way back into another world and I am enjoying it. I am a mother, but I am also a woman. I want to share my passions with someone and I guess I thought for a moment that I could cross that line and pretend that my daughters wanted to be a part of that. But it “taint” so is it? My girls already have friends, but they only have one mother.

And so I search for the answer to my dilemma. I search for that person, a best friend, with whom I can share my inmost thoughts and those secrets that make the girls say “ick.” I need that – I deserve it as a woman. But, I won’t make the mistake again of blurring those boundaries between myself and my children. Because guess what? I am their MOTHER – and I love them more than life.

© 2005 Ilene Madrigal

The Message in the Trees

I heard it before I saw it, and I couldn’t believe it – the sound of the trees swaying in the breeze this morning here in North Carolina.

Back in Oklahoma, when we lived on the farm, it was mostly wide open spaces, but we had a row of cottonwood trees near the pond, and I would listen for messages from the tops of those trees.

Sometimes it was more of a feeling before you even heard it. For example, a warning of an impending storm. It always occurred in the tops of the trees first -- that eerie change in the wind. And it was a change in wind in Oklahoma because unlike North Carolina, the wind always blows there. I loved that feeling and sound - no need for screeching tornado sirens to rattle your nerves out there in the country. There would be a sudden quietness like the universe was holding its breath, and then if you are an eavesdropper of any talent at all, you would hear a whispering beginning high above in the uppermost branches.

Now this is the order of it all. First you feel it - that shivery feeling running across your neck and shoulders; then you hear it – as the leaves rustle around adjusting to the change in the direction of the wind; and finally you see it – the dipping and bowing of the branches as they began to announce to all of nature that a change is in the air. There is a heightened awareness of your surroundings as you begin to scan the skies – a knowing of sorts that makes you want to gather your loved ones into your arms and seek a place of safety. And yet there isn’t any fear, because the universe itself has spoken, and you have listened and responded to the message in the trees.

Now I don’t want you to think that Okies are constantly scanning the skies for storms. That is just one of the wonders of nature they can observe. There are times, especially at harvest time, particularly just before dusk, when the wind had slowed to a gentle evening breeze, that there seems to be a special communication in nature. It is at this time – if you listen intently, you can hear the swaying of the leaves swishing softly in the tops of the trees and at the same time you can hear the rustling of the dry beards of that golden wheat rubbing together as the breeze touches them with its gentle movement. And in my mind’s eye I could picture the Indians out there on the plains honoring the Great Spirit for this beautiful earth and later the farmers, plowing up those plains, planting that wheat, and thanking God for a bountiful harvest and I would wonder …could it be that this soft swishing sound in the tops of those trees is the ‘Great Spirit of the Indians’ riding his painted pony, a gentle breeze, bareback high above the earth; and could it be that the rustling sound in the wheat field is the ‘God of the Farmers’ footsteps as He takes His evening walk through those ripened fields of golden grain? And then at that very moment ...in Oklahoma …at dusk …if you are very still -- you hear a whispering in the tops of the trees and a whispering from the ‘amber waves of grain’ in the field; and you will know in your heart that these two Great Beings (who are really one) are communing the secrets of the universe and you will understand that you are truly blessed for having been there.

Yes, I heard it before I saw it and I couldn’t believe it – the sound of the trees swaying in the breeze this morning here in North Carolina, and the message was the same as the one in Oklahoma …and that message is Love.

©2005 Ilene Madrigal