train of thoughts

riding on my train of thoughts through haikus tonight…..

 

leftover food and

dishes in the sink are the

remnants of good times

 

it was a joke said

the young boy, “after all I’m

only seven now”

 

she loves to plan fun

and games and things that show all

around they are loved

 

the laughter was good

the friends were the best of all

stories overflowed

 

she’s under my roof

for tonight at least and I

listen for her sounds

 

that one who’s known me

longest, her smile is like his

and it warms my soul

 

all is quiet and

lights are dim, time to lock up

put worries to bed

 

this day is done here

thankful for it all, full heart

memories echo

 

 

Love to all.  

The Gift of Each Other

For my three children, and for anyone else who has a mind to read it.

Dear Ones,
You will never regret time you spend with each other, listening to each other’s stories, thoughts, dreams, plans, fears, and corny jokes. You will never tire of watching the expressions on each other’s faces, searching for signs of mirth or sadness. You will always be glad that you chose time together over just about everything else in the world. And no matter how tired you get, you won’t ever be sorry you missed an hour or two (or five) of sleep so you could stay up laughing and remembering and sharing the journey.

One day when I am gone I hope that you too will stay up with each other talking and laughing and reminiscing. I hope that I will have helped you have the kind of life that remembering will bring you more laughter than tears and will often find you together. Make time for that. For each other. And whatever stories you are carrying. Make room in your mind and heart and listen to every single one. And love on each other.

Each other is the greatest gift I can ever leave you. I promise you it’s worth more than all the gold in the world.

Love each other. Laugh a lot. Hold each other when you cry.

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Love,
Your Mama who just stayed up really quite late doing all of these things with her not so much anymore yet always baby brother and who might be quite cranky tomorrow but will be carrying a song of joy and thankfulness in her heart because of the love and laughter and the gift of each other

Love to all.

You Might Be a Southerner If…..

So I overheard this today:
“Y’all be careful around that cup and don’t mess with it. That’s your aunt’s fruit fly trap. I have one at home too.”

I love it.

You might be from the South if a cup covered with holey plastic wrap regales your home in the summer. The fruit flies go in but they can’t figure how to come out.

Which is a very good thing, especially this time of year when those little rascals are messing with my beautiful peaches and whatever else I might be trying to put up in the freezer. Not gonna happen.

It’s good to have your quirks and ways known and accepted and to be loved anyway.
Wishing you all the same kind of love.

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The Cost of Towing

So there’s this stuff that needs to get from here to there. The logical solution, at least one of them, is to have a hitch put on the vehicle and rent a trailer.
The first thing to do is price having a hitch put on the back of the vehicle headed in that direction.
Y’all.
Sticker shock.
Really?
Just to put that little ball thing that I inevitably run in to every time I walk around behind the vehicle?
In a nutshell–yes.
Wow.
It’s expensive to haul stuff.
And not just tangible stuff. It costs us a lot to haul around all the extra baggage filled with emotions and hurts and hard memories. It slows us down and keeps us from getting as far as we can go. When we are hauling around so much, we are limited as to where we can go as well. And not many people will put up with us for very long if we are always dragging this trailer stuffed full of stuff we just can’t or won’t let go of.
Tonight I am thankful for family and friends who help me when my trailer of emotional “stuff” gets overfull. They help me unburden myself by listening and by reminding who I am. I give thanks for our times together sharing stories of memories past and making new ones to reflect upon one day.
Wishing you someone to help you unpack your trailer of stuff and lighten your load.
Love to all.

Ebb and Flow and Food Allergies

 

Ahh, the ebb and flow of life.

Specifically, today, the life with a child with severe food allergies.

This morning when I took the littles to our first stop on the OutandAbouts for the day, where they have been learning good things all week, I saw the little girl who had enjoyed watching my yarn as I crocheted yesterday.  She and her twin brother, not quite two yet, were both snacking on crackers that I noticed right away.

Whether due to my hypervigilant state when folks are eating in public or because those things practically glow in the dark–likely it was both–I saw they were eating those peanut butter cheese crackers.

Trying to be subtle, I immediately redirected the path of my crew to avoid the eating area and little hands that might reach out and touch us or our things and moved them to where they needed to be in line.  Once they were settled in, Aub and I took our things and went over to another area to sit.

Where the Mama and her twins soon joined us.  *sigh*  I wish I could come up with a nice way to say, “Hey, we’re allergic, that stuff could kill one of us, could you please avoid touching us or hey, since Anxiety Girl decided to tag along today, just avoid our general area, okay?”

But I haven’t yet.

So I just sat uncomfortably avoiding eye contact with the sweet little girl, whose crumb encrusted hands were reaching to get around the stroller her mom had placed strategically to block her into a small area.  Yesterday we’d had such a nice interaction–she and I.  She pointed at my yarn, and I said, “Yarn.”  She pointed at her little jelly-like sandals and said, “Shoooo.”  It was great.  And sweet.

But today, because of those contaminated (yes strong word, just how it feels to me) hands, I couldn’t take a chance that she’d touch my pants or our bag or Princess’ things and then I wouldn’t know how to keep my girl safe.

Because that is what it all boils down to.  Doing WHATEVER and ALL that it takes to keep her safe.

We got through the morning with no mishaps or accidental exposure.  The only casualty was my heart and feelings and anxieties with being torn between not wanting to hurt someone else’s feelings and keeping my child protected from potential harm.

One day I’ll learn how to better handle things like this.

*sigh* And people wonder why I just want to stay home.

Then there was the positive for the day.  Total reversal of where the day was heading. One of the BEST THINGS EVER.  One of our own wrote me that she’d found a No-Nut Butter at the Big store.  It’s made by Sneaky Chef.  She had tasted it and thought it was pretty good.  So the next stop on our OutandAbouts was the Big store to see what I could find.  And sure enough, there it was.  (Well, after I called her to ask where it was.  Of course I found it before she could even get the words out to tell me.  Always the way.)  I was giddy with anticipation.  I know that makes for a silly picture–me checking out of the store, practically bouncing, unable to get home quickly enough to open up the jar and try some.  But there it was.  This is the life I lead.

Because we have NOTHING to replace peanut butter.  We’ve tried other butters, but eventually they were all ruled out as being okay for her.  The only thing that we’ve been okay with is Biscoff spread–fondly known as “cookie butter” around here–and let’s face it, not really a nutritious choice.

No-Nut Butter.  Two words.  Yay-licious!

No-Nut Butter. Two words. Yay-licious!

But No-Nut Butter?  Sneaky Chef, my hat’s off to you.  You ROCK.  This is safe for my child.  Not only that, we all LOVE it.  Aub even wants to make her favorite peanut butter dessert using this as a substitute.

We ARE THRILLED.

Joy, fear, anticipation, anxiety, hard times, good times.  It’s all in there together, isn’t it?  No matter what your family is dealing with–the ebb and flow of life.  It’s there.  Always.  The key, I guess. is to be patient when things seem way too dry or feel like they’re pulling us under.  Just hang in there.  Life is ever-changing, not static.

I was reminded of this in these words of Ann Lamott from “Help, Thanks, Wow:”

“Most of us figure out by a certain age—some of us later than others—that life unspools in cycles, some lovely, some painful, but in no pre­dictable order. So you could have lovely, painful, and painful again, which I think we all agree is not at all fair. You don’t have to like it, and you are always welcome to file a brief with the Com­plaints Department. But if you’ve been around for a while, you know that much of the time, if you are patient and are paying attention, you will see that God will restore what the locusts have taken away.”

I have had my days that I have doubted this, but this came full circle for me today.

And I am thankful for that.  Thankful for a new day, a fresh start, and clean hands again on another day, so maybe my little friend and I can visit again.  And maybe the opportunity will present itself and the words will come so I can explain my anxiety to her mother.  I give thanks for family who look after me and mine and love us enough to share their thoughts–my Aunt and my Cousin, I’m especially grateful for tonight.  When folks care enough to get in your chili, even about what you are eating (chili or not)…..that’s a precious gift.  And I don’t take it lightly.

May the ebb and flow of your life leave you feeling refreshed today.

Love to all.

 

 

 

on going back

going back

to the person whose heart you hurt

oh so long ago

and saying “I’m sorry,

it was my brokenness,

not yours”

courage

going back

to the person whom you

might have offended

and saying, “I’m sorry,

for the words that came

without thought”

humility

going back

to the person you’ve

been so angry with,

listening

and then saying, “It’s okay,

it’s over, my heart just let it go”

grace

peace

hope

it is in the going back

that we can move forward

and beyond

lighter

and with a full

and thankful

heart

love

 

 

for the three

 

I packed up my things,

along with my talismans from Mama, Daddy, Aunt Wease–for courage

and peace, I hoped

and drove the same road I’ve traveled for over forty years

to one of the houses that built me

to say goodbye

one more time

As I drove through Hawkinsville and saw the 45

mph

sign

I heard Mama say, “They’ll get you through here.

Watch your speed.”

I smiled and drove on over the bridge,

the long one that made her nervous,

the one that, as we crossed one time, she told me

about her fear of bridges

I always think of her when I cross it

Then down the Golden Isles Parkway

past the sign for Bembry Road–one day maybe I’ll have a

grandchild with that name

I always say how much I like it, and they all agree

Then the turn and Congo Lane

I always looked for the gorillas when I was little

and sometimes

I still do

And then

The house.

As I entered with the key left by the realtor,

I could smell

oh that smell

Her scent still lingers

Even now, four years after she left us

I wish I could bottle the smell and carry it forever

and pull it out for special occasions like she did with her silver

I wandered from room to room,

remembering the wall that was once full of clocks

how proud she was to finally have that sun room

the CB radio room that was later a lovely sitting room

after he died

The spot where Toogie their Chihuahua ate

or hid, I could never be sure

The bookcase behind the door where she kept toys for my littles

The bedroom where she had Lucy and Ricky beds

and where I took the best nap I’ve ever had–

first time Mama kind of tired, you know

and where the lidded vase sat–

I was convinced it held ashes, but no

The pink bathroom I rarely went into

and the black and white tiled bathroom, so fancy

with the dimmer light that seemed magical

and still does

Cooter tried it out as I once did, fascinated,

“Look it’s a storm,” he said, turning it up and down

And the bedroom where she took her last breath, I quietly

bowed my head

And the tears flowed

I grew up here, played here, spent nights staying up after having ice cream

and playing Go Fish

It was where I could go and be the only, and for a day or two

that was just fine

It was where I visited with college friends,

in what Daddy and I lovingly called,

“One of the finest homes in that there Eastman, Georgia”

And now it looked old and tired and weepy,

just as I was

The voices echoed off the walls and the little girl I was

peeked around the corners

Cooter ran in the formal living room and I stood there,

laughing through the tears

I had no memories of this room without him.

We were not allowed in there as children, but him–

she let him run and tackle the pillow from the couch she held in her lap

and she laughed with joy

as I stared and thought, “Who are you?”

and it was as it should be.

 

We locked the door and drove away,

leaving behind the ghosts and memories of growing up

and returning as an adult and the roles reversing

and suddenly I was caring for her…..

and now it was time for someone else to make their own stories there

 

As I sat down to sign my name–oh how I’ve come to loathe doing that

It once felt so grown up to sign my name in full, and now

Now I hate what it usually means

Someone, something I have to let go

 

I touched the remembrances of Mama and Daddy, of her–

the one who loved this house

and felt safe there right up to her last breath–

oh please, I hope that is so–

and yet, when I looked down and took a deep breath, it was there

in what I saw

that my heart steadied and I didn’t feel

alone

Three other signatures, already there, waiting on me

to join them

The three that came behind me, yet have always

walked alongside

Those three names, typed yes,

but then handwritten with care by each one

First Sister, then Mess Cat, then Bubba

and I felt steadied

The pen didn’t wobble and neither did my voice

For as much as we may have bickered and picked

and teased

all those years ago, or last decade, or year, or month, or week

It turns out Mama was right–

and we are “all really very wonderful, I’m sure”

And together we stand strong

and can do what life requires next of us

No matter what blows our way

For in them, I see the lines of faces of loved ones gone

and I hear the echo of their words

and feel the dust of their love in the hugs

or waves from the back porch

In that moment the four were one

and for that, I am thankful

There is strength in numbers, yes

but there is something even stronger than that

in love

 

My last time pulling into this drive.

My last time pulling into this drive.

 

My Daddy built this handrail years ago.  Like anything he did, it is strong and has weathered the years well.

My Daddy built this handrail years ago. Like anything he did, it is strong and has weathered the years well. That door always made me happy because I knew I would get a hug and hands cupping my face as soon as I knocked, and her looking me in the eye, oohing over seeing me. Each and every time.

The lovely stained glass light over the table where I had my first cup of coffee, lightened with PET milk.  Which always seemed extra special.

The lovely stained glass light over the table where I had my first cup of coffee, lightened with PET milk. Which always seemed extra special.

 

I had forgotten about these beauties.  If I had had a screwdriver on me, the two she had in her bedrooms would have come home with me.  I adore these.

I had forgotten about these beauties. If I had had a screwdriver on me, the two she had in her bedrooms would have come home with me. I adore these.

The black and white magical bathroom. Fancy.  I loved this room.  Always.

The black and white magical bathroom. Fancy. I loved this room. Always.

 

Cooter creating the "storm" turning the dimmer up and down.  Yeah.  I let him.  For a minute or two.  I used to do the same thing when I was his age.

Cooter creating the “storm” turning the dimmer up and down. Yeah. I let him. For a minute or two. I used to do the same thing when I was his age.

I spent many a day visiting in this room, laughing over shared stories, listening to tales of the past, and smelling the delicious meal my Aunt and Uncle fixed for us.  I never sat in this house and felt less than special.

I spent many a day visiting in this room, laughing over shared stories, listening to tales of the past, and smelling the delicious meals my Aunt and Uncle fixed for us. I never sat in this house and felt less than special.

Cooter holding the sketch drawing of the house that was done in 1976.  I am thankful that I have this art to remember this precious home and the love freely given there.

Cooter holding the sketch drawing of the house that was done in 1976. I am thankful that I have this art to remember this precious home and the love freely given there.

 

Love Ya, Dear–remembering her