Que Sera, Sera

I brought my husband John home from the hospital today. I wore these earrings that he gave me for Christmas a few years ago, purchased at a holiday market in Washington, DC. The silver scrollwork jumped out at me this morning: question marks. What will the future bring?

When I was little, my dad loved to sing a song from a Doris Day movie:

When I was just a little girl
I asked my mother, what will I be
Will I be pretty, will I be rich
Here's what she said to me.

Que Sera, Sera,
Whatever will be, will be
The future's not ours, to see
Que Sera, Sera
What will be, will be.

My dad didn't believe in predestination any more than I do. Work hard, follow your dreams, forge your own path, that's how I was raised. But sometimes, stuff happens. Illness, for example. Accident. Falling in love. And then, what will be, will be.

We're home together at our cabin, next to a river, in the Pennsylvania woods near Cook Forest State Park. I photographed these earrings dangling from one of my husband's shot glasses(his collection exceeds 100). John planted that white pine and that blue spruce. He built the railing on which this shot glass stands. He's got his list of projects set for tomorrow. Me, too. But stuff does happen. Que sera, sera.