Thursday, March 26, 2015

Self Care

Although it was a balmy 45 degrees yesterday, I took refuge in the bedroom-the warmest room in the house.  As a buffer between home and work, I lounged on the bed with a good book.  Once my husband came home, we ate.  Then we both returned to the "warm room" each with a book.  While we read, the cats and dogs joined us. We had a full bed. Being cozy and warm, my eyes kept closing.  In an attempt to continue reading-the book rested opened on my chest.  I read in spurts, but finally gave into the coziness.  Snuggling into my husband, my head rested in the crook of his arm.  About an hour later, I wiped the drool from my face and adjusted my glasses that pressed into my face while I snored.  Plans to go to studio to finish a ring were curtailed.  Instead of going out into the cold, dark night I put my pajamas on and continued to read and rest, read and rest.  This was an act of self-care.

Wednesday, March 25, 2015

The Promise of Return

Somedays are dark.  Somedays it is hard to wade through the muck of life.  I become sad at times.  I worry.  Often something, despite myself startles me and knocks me into a state of gratitude.

Last night was a tough night with teenagers.  If you have raised teenagers, I needn't go into detail.  Life can be trying at times.  Sleep was fitful; tossing, turning and a tired brain  awoke in overdrive.  

This morning, I escaped to work, seeking reprieve.  I nearly rushed to start the engine to  loosen the ice on the windshield, without pausing to notice.  All was quiet outside, aside from a cardinal who sang to me from the highest branch of a deciduous nearby.  A dusty red, the bird's breast expanded with each note.  The song made me happy.  I smiled.

There is so much to be thankful for despite the struggles and lessons in life.  I choose to live a whole-hearted life, noticing the unexpected gifts. It is certain the cardinal will return.

Tuesday, March 24, 2015

I know for sure...

I am not afraid to cry in front of others.

This winter weather has gone on much too long.

That my parents had a knack for loving all of us.  They gifted each of us the feeling that we were the favorite of the family.  I know for sure...I don't know how they did it.

That some of my favorite memories with my dad took place at Fenway Park in Boston.

My brother is a trivia nut.

I become anxious in large crowds when I am alone.

Some kids don't deserve the life they were handed.

Sometimes life is unfair.

Sometimes I laugh out-loud at myself because I am my mother's daughter.

Living life in the state of gratitude makes things better; like when my mother kissed my bandaged knee it made the hurt go away. (At least a little bit.)

Monday, March 23, 2015

Stories While Driving

Nothing was familiar to me. Buildings sprang up where before cows grazed. Bagel shops, flea markets and a tattoo parlor all new. But as I drove along Route One, I tried to recall the past to make sense of the present. The traffic was heavier than it was decades ago. The white brick building I passed once housed a bakery. The same bakery that refused my Auntie a "baker's dozen" is now a tiny Thai Restaurant. The old grey building that once was an orphanage looms and I wonder what ever happen to my best friend in Kindergarten. Vicky and her brother disappeared one day. My mother gently explained that her parents divorced and both kids were sent to the orphanage. I had always wanted to knock on the door and see my friend, but I was also worried that if Vicky left so easily and suddenly that it could surely happen to me. I zoomed passed the green light and toward the marsh. This morning the road was dry. When I wasyoung this  stretch of road flooded regularly. On Sunday mornings, the police would wave my mother through the water. It would splash up under the car making a terrible vibrating noise, while I hid my face as my big sister hugged and soothed me. Weekly trips from Biddeford to Portland to visit my aunt cultivated family stories.  Driving along ordinary landmarks this morning, prompted  the recollection of some pretty extraordinary stories that began as tiny seeds in a little girl.

Sunday, March 22, 2015


This evening
I prepare supper
In the house that was
My mother's
And father's,
Not much has changed
Most remains the same.

Reminders of another time
Etched into the cutting board,
My father's coffee mug on a hook
As if waiting a return.

This evening
I sat remembering.
In reality,
So much has changed.

Saturday, March 21, 2015

Another Saturday

It is Saturday, so it means it is snowing, again. Wintery weather is dragging us all around the snow and ice, whereas we would all rather be wallowing in spring mud and pot holes.

Unless there is traveling in my future, I don't pay much attention to the weather. It is something that can't be controlled; I take it as it comes. Although I must admit that there is a restless stirring within me.

I want to walk in the woods and feel the layers of pine needles cushion each step. I want to pause and run my fingers across the expanse of moss-a carpet of emerald green. I want to slip into Donnell's Pond and feel myself glide through the cool water, buoyant growing stronger with each stroke. I want to dip my hands into the loose soil and smell the pungent odor that comes with planting tomatoes. I want a gentle warm breeze to play with my hair. Simply, I want sun. I want, we all want, but we must practice patience. Sometimes it is a challenge.

Friday, March 20, 2015

Before That...

Inspired by fellow-blogger, Susanne from Make, Share, Give.  I tried this simple technique that my students would love.

I sat down, listening to my stomach growl while everyone was eating lunch.

Before that, I listened to one of my students read a passage with fluency.  Music to my ears.

Before that, I watched a first grader stretch herself as a writer by adding more details to her piece even though she thought she was done.

Before that, I helped a child choose a pile of favorite books to re-read over the weekend.

Before that, I collected data on a student's reading progress, plotted it on a graph, and celebrated with her.

Before that, I attended another meeting about a kid that is destined for amazing things in his life.

Before that, my husband and I stood in the kitchen, facing each other, holding each other as partners on a Spiritual journey and we prayed.

Before that, we rose before sunrise for our last day of the Bahai Fast, ate a breakfast of eggs and toast, while sipping on lattes.

Before that, we noted that tomorrow is Naw Ruz and the first full day of Spring, a time for celebration even though it is still WINTER.

                                                                     -A Sentiment I share