Losing Maggie

img_0231

Last night I lost my dog Maggie. She was three months shy of her 13th birthday and though a little creaky and long in the tooth, she had more energy than any 10 people in the room.

I got her when she was five weeks old and we’ve been through many adventures over the years. Some good. Some bad. But she was always there, right by side, raring to go wherever I went. And many times, it seemed she was the only friend I had in the world. And believe me, that was enough. No matter how bad things got, I always knew there was one ‘person’ in the world who truly loved me no matter what shape I was in.

 

She loved…

thumper-4002 thumper-5005 june2007015 more-thumper006Cats

Eggs

Chasing squirrels and lizards

Barking at possums

Going for a ride

Chasing the ball

Going for a walk

Bones

People

Me

Sleeping on my bed

Bunching up my rugs

And if you scratched her chest, she’d stand on her haunches for hours – just to make it easier for you.

img_0002-1

Anybody who ever met her, loved her. You just couldn’t help yourself but fall for the funny little dog who seemed to have a permanent smile on her face.

She didn’t love…

Dog food (people food was so much better)

Mail carriers

Anybody who scared her cats

Eye drops, medicine or vaccinations

Going to the vet’s

Being dressed in elf, Santa, or baby outfits (although she loved her jingle collar every year)

elfdogcloseup more-xmas-dog xmasmaggie

feb-2010005

Last night, she went out into the backyard and charged an unwanted guest. I heard her barking, but I thought it was the possum she was barking at. The one who likes to climb along our wall. It made her happy to bark at the possum, so I didn’t call her in.

Then the barking stopped.

Then my room mate screamed my name.

The unwanted guest in the yard was a coyote.

We rushed her to the emergency vet. She was struggling to breathe but she was awake and alert and moving. I thought she’d be okay.

But the vet was taking too long to talk to me and I knew. The injuries were too severe. Her windpipe had been punctured. She had too many injuries. My white shirt was soaked with her blood.

We said goodbye and then she was gone.

My life was better because she was in it. My life will never be the same now that she’s gone. I will miss her more than I can say.

june2007016

Advertisements

All the good things that happen to us every day

channel-216342_640

Happy almost New Year, everybody. Hard to believe that another year has passed already, but it has. I look forward to what the new year will bring. In the meantime, I am still struggling with my Christmas cold, which came upon me a couple of days before Christmas and has hung on pretty tightly since.

It’s been a fun fest of cough medicine, tissues and late night coughing. I mean seriously, how much snot can one head hold?

I don’t know about you but I can be a pretty big baby when I’m sick and even I wish I could leave the room when I’m like that. The incessant whining, the sad eyes, the stooped posture. Yikes. And ironically, since it’s one of those bad head colds I can barely talk, so all my complainng comes out in Minnie Mouse like squeaks and squeals. Not a pretty thing, my friends.

However, it’s gotten me thinking. In my quest to beat the cold into submission, to meet it headlong in battle with light saber raised and determination glinting in my somewhat crusty eye, I realized it’s a losing battle. Yes, I can take the meds, get rest, drink fluids, and eat chicken soup but the thing is, the cold will take its course no matter what I do. All my focus on dare I say obsession with it, doesn’t do much to change it.

And from there I thought, it’s kind of how life is. We get slapped around and we fight back and then we get slapped some more. We get up and rattle our light sabers but then somebody kicks us in the head. It’s messy. It’s bloody. There’s lots of drool involved. And our all consuming focus on the problem only makes things seem more futile.

So I wondered if maybe it was a smarter to just let it be. You know what I mean? Just say, “Well, okay, that sucks.” And then move on. In fact, when I have been able to do this, often the problem works itself out.

Okay, what’s my point? Yes, I should definitely get to the point. The point is that what we focus on is what we get. Right? If we focus on problems then problems we get. But what if we focused on the good things that happen to us every day? And I promise you, no matter how bad you may think things are for you, good things do happen to you every day. You may not notice them, but they happen.

So maybe the trick is to start noticing those things. All those tiny little, lovely things that happen to you every day, like:

  • The email you got from an old friend because you sent them a Christmas card
  • The unexpected gift from a friend that arrived just when you were feeling low
  • The wag of your dog’s tail or that special purr from your cat
  • The snow on the mountains that you can see out your bathroom window
  • The guy who let you into to traffic or the lady who let you cut in line at the grocery store
  • You sold a book
  • You got a review
  • People you don’t even know read your blog or make a nice comment
  • Somebody retweets you
  • Starbucks sent you a coupon for a free coffee
  • Sunrises
  • Sunsets
  • The freedom to get on the Internet and bitch and moan about anything and everything
  • A great new book to read

The list goes on and on. Every one is really, truly a tiny little miracle. To be celebrated and appreciated and paid forward.

So, I don’t know about you, but I’m going out to look for the good things. Tiny as they may be, I know they’re out there. And as long as I have tissues to daubs my runny nose and eyes, I think I’ll be able to see them.

How about you? Do you notice all the little good things that happen to you every day? How did it make you feel? Feel free to share.

Annie

In the Mirror – Theme Friday

I tugged the silver-handled hairbrush through my mop of dark hair as I looked in the mirror. The signs that I would age like my mother were all there – lines around the mouth that had begun a descent downward, lonliness, but mostly surrender. It had crept into my once bright blue eyes somewhere along the way, the light notched down and barely burning, the gaze turned inward. I felt older than I was and at the beginning of the end. I was looked back far more than I was looked forward and the realization of it angered me. I threw the brush at the mirror in a fit of pique, fighting to change the reflection. “No!” I screamed.

“Mom?” Peter’s soft voice coaxed me to turn.

I stared at my shy and handsome son, who had his father’s eyes more each day – and they filled with questions. “It’s okay honey, my hand slipped,” I looked away and bent down to gather the broken glass on the carpet.

Peter helped me collect the little pieces of reflection that sparkled the floor and mocked me at the same time. I shooed him out and assured him I was fine. And when I turned I spied the spiderweb that had formed and spread from the point of impact – and the image staring back at me, like a spider, had several pairs of eyes.

The conversation at breakfast was a handful of murmurs and manners. “You still going on Friday night?” Peter packed a lunch of roast beef sandwich, apple, yoghurt and the last piece of cherry pie.

I peered over my coffee cup at Peter, even the way he held a knife mimicked his father and it stirred shadows I wanted to keep asleep. “I don’t have much choice,” I mumbled.

Peter flashed a mouthful of perfect white teeth. “You always have a choice, Mom.”

“All right, wise guy, then I don’t have a graceful choice to bow out. I’m on the planning committee, I could hardly ‘bail’ as you kids like to say.” I smiled for his sake and sipped coffee and craved the cigarettes I’d given up long ago.

Peter rolled his big blue eyes and planted a kiss on the top of my head before heading out. “See you tonight,” he called over his shoulder. And I was right behind him, running late, needing to rush to the shop.

Most of the morning was spent unsuccessfully cajoling customers into buying pieces and trying to find a service that could repair the two hundred year old mirror I’d smashed with my grandmother’s hairbrush. Both proved to be an exercise in futility. An afternoon rain that turned the bright Autumn day to grey tears convinced me to close early. No one would be antiquing in a rain storm anyway. I turned the sign to the closed position and went behind the counter to count the drawer.

I must have been lost in thought because I never saw or heard the woman enter. “Excuse me,” the voice was strong and clear but kind. I gasped. “Sorry dear,” she said, “I didn’t mean to startle you.”

She was a small woman with vibrant blue-green eyes and silver hair twisted in a neat bun at the back. “I’m sorry, but I’ve closed for today. What with the rain and all…”

The woman nodded, “Yes, I can see that, but you have such a lovely shop that I wanted to look around. You have a keen eye for placement,” she said as her own eyes wandered the pieces I’d so carefully arranged. “You have so many mirrors, I love how they give the place eyes.” I’d never thought of it that way. It was true I had a special love of mirrors but now it seemed the shop was crammed with them and staring at me.

“Thank you,” I said anxious for her to ask her question and leave. The rain had begun to pound on the roof and I dreaded the short but sure to be miserable drive home. “Is there something I can do for you?”

The woman continued to smile and shook her head. “No, I just wanted to say hello and tell you how much I appreciate your lovely things here. Will your husband be by to pick you up soon?”

“No, I’m not married.”

She was taken aback, her eyes told me so. “A lovely girl like you, not married? It doesn’t speak well of the male population around here does it?” she winked.

I smiled and shook my head. “No, I suppose not.” But I had no interest in the male population since the man I loved married another woman.

She patted my hand. “Don’t worry dear, I have a feeling your luck is about to change and my feelings are almost always right.”

I stared at my feet like bashful teenager and when I looked up she was gone. The hairs on my arms raised and goosebumps rose to greet them. How she had appeared out of nowhere and then vanished into the grey vapor of the afternoon was downright eerie. I went to the front of the shop and peered out the window at the pouring rain, not a soul was about, all no doubt, hiding from the sheets of grey like I did. I shook my head and bolted the front door and left through the rear exit.

When I got home I was cold and weary and wanted nothing more than a mug of soup and hot bath. The house was dark and still and rather than turn on lights, I stood, leaning against the door, listening to the rain thump and drum the roof and let him come into my thoughts. His maddening blue eyes, his voice saying my name, the whisper of his embrace came to me as a solid apparition, not a distant memory.

“You’re thinking about him, aren’t you?” Peter was there standing in front of me.

“Who?” I asked, pulling off my coat and making a show of tidying up my already immaculate livingroom, Peter on my heels like he used to do when he was little.

“It’s why you don’t want to go to the reunion, isn’t it?” Peter persisted. “He might be there. My father.” And he stood before me like resolute Oak, refusing to move from his spot of strength and advantage. “I know he isn’t dead, Mom. I’ve known for a long time.”

I pushed the damp hair out of my face and fell into a chair, unable to look my boy in the eyes – the eyes that reminded me everyday of the man I could never forget. “How long have you known?” I asked too tired to continue any charade.

Peter shrugged his broad shoulders. “It doesn’t matter. I know is the point. We’ve talked a few times,” he said casually but he gave that sidelong glance he always did when he tested the waters.

I felt a cold panic snake through my insides. “How do you know it’s him,” I asked though I never doubted it was.

“I look just like him,” Peter said softly. He bent down then and gave me a little hug. “I’m not mad, Mom,” he whispered, “don’t you be either, okay?”

I looked up at my son and wondered at his odd expression. “Why would I be mad?”

Peter left the room and minutes later I heard voices and the panic woke sharply and shot me to my feet. But it was too late because I stood in front of him. David. My David. I couldn’t speak. He was still beautiful, tall and composed. “Hello, Ali.”

“What are you doing here,” I found my voice but it was weak and a whisper.

“I’ve wanted to call a thousand times,” he said quietly.

“But you didn’t,” I said.

“Would you have talked to me, if I had?” David asked and took a step closer. And I couldn’t move, I was frozen to the spot. I couldn’t look away, my eyes were locked to his. “You never answered my letters, why?”

“You were married to another woman. Of course I didn’t answer your letters. I couldn’t be friends with you. I couldn’t and you know it.” I trembled and felt the girl I was then, pregnant and heartbroken, having read in the newspaper of his engagement to woman I’d never heard of before.

David moved closer and reached for my hands. “No, I wasn’t. I never married her.” He stepped closer still and said, “I never married anyone.”

My mind could barely wrap around those words. The walls I’d built over the years, the compartments I’d fashioned in my mind to tuck away the memories, to hide myself within began to dismantle. Leaving me with only questions I could not yet voice. “You never married.” I repeated.

“No,” David said and took my hand but I pulled away. I couldn’t think and I was angry and lost and wanted nothing more than to be left alone. To push David out into the raining night – to find my comfortable hiding place again – return to the shelter of my ignorance. And if my eye had not caught the reflection in the hallway mirror I would have. But my son’s face wouldn’t let me, couldn’t let me.

“Peter?” I called out and he knew I’d seen him. “Will you start a pot of coffee, honey? I think we may be talking for a while.” My boy smiled at me from the mirror and it was all the strength I needed.

Christine’s mirror reflects here and Panther’s mirror hangs here.

Summertime and the Livin’ is Easy…

For as long as I can remember one of my favorite songs was Summertime. Whether it was Lena Horne or Otis Redding, or anyone else who could belt one out, singing it. I think it’s one of the best songs ever written because it so thoroughly expresses the feeling of summertime. The hot days and mean summer sun – the fragrant balmy nights – the lazy, languid movements of sun-kissed skin. Oh yeah.

It’s been very hot in my little burg and though it drives most people inside to find the solace of air conditioning and bad television – it makes me smile. It makes me think of my dad and watermelon and eating giant beefsteak tomatoes on the front porch. Swatting away the flies and trying to catch the juice before it drips down your chin and onto your nice white tee shirt.

Of dangling toes in the cool comfort of a country lake. The symphony of butterflies, birds and bees that hover and dart in the garden, serenading and gliding – a cacaphony of color and songs piercing the cloudless blue sky. Of softie ice cream cones in the darkened livingroom, the fan rattling and television down low. Of sitting in the window when I should have been sleeping and listening to the crickets as they sing out the stars scattered across a darkening sky.

Of picnics and parties. Rollercoasters and cotton candy, apples dipped in sweet, chewy caramel and a sheen of oily sweat that never goes away until the weather breaks. The air so heavy with water that refuses to turn to rain.

Of my new keds, red and unblemished. Scraped elbows and new adventures along the railroad track, discovering rocks and trash that were treasures to us. Iced tea sweating and leaving a ring on the table, putting it to my forehead and how cool it felt there. Streaks of blonde hair glistening the mousey brown of winter.

It makes me think of all these things and more. I guess you could say I am a child of summer. I need the sunshine to live. I never want it to end.

WC

Music To My Ears

 

La Flor of Mocha Buzz  has tagged me for a little meme.

It’s all about songs and one’s youth. LOL. Not sure I want to remember that far back, but I’m game. I’m also not sure I can get all nostalgic about the years of high school or even any of the songs during that time. But I did have some favorites that I managed to find:

Lean on Me – by Bill Withers – Aside from the fact that this was one of those sort of post-hippie songs and we were all into feeling the love for everyone (but dah man) – this is to me, a classic. It sounds as good today as it did then I think because it deals with the universal theme that we are not alone – we have friends, we have family and we can lean sometimes when we need to. I’ll admit, that I’m not much of a leaner and when I do, it usually feels a bit odd – but like the man says, ‘we all need somebody to lean on.’ Amen.

I Can See Clearly Now –  by Johnny Nash: There is something about this song that always gets me. It can mean so many things. But to me, it’s about revelations, whether personal or the big picture. It’s also a song of celebration – of being free from chains I guess, whether it be the chains of a love affair, small-mindedness, our own limiting thoughts. It’s all good. 

Let’s Stay Together – by Al Green: Ah, the Reverand Al Green, I could listen to this guy sing the phone book. Have you ever seen him perform? He takes such utter and complete joy in what he is doing, it makes you wish you could sing too. The song is a classic, about the common sense of staying in love, staying together, working it out. That things that are important are meant to last – and that making them last is worth the effort.

Heart of Gold – by Neil Young: I was never much of a Neil Young fan, aside from this song, the only other song of his I liked was Helpless. But again, a classic song that speaks to human frailty and the need to find love. For some reason, it always reminded me of my dad. Maybe it was the twangy voice of Young or the old fashioned theme of the song – but he definitely had a heart of gold.

 Without You – by Nilsson:  This song was so different from songs of its day – lots of big music, for such a little, simple song. And it was the perfect song to play when  your heart was broken. It fit so well with the teenaged angst I experienced most of  my young life and you could just scream your heart out as you sung along.

So… there you have it. The songs of my youth. Plus a cartoon that has absolutely nothing to do with this. 😉

I’m tagging:
Red
Reggie
Kenzie
Kathy
Michael

These are the rules:
1. Go to the Billboard #1 Hits listings (scroll down and you’ll seen them separated by decades on the left in the sidebar)
2. Pick a year you were in high school
3. Get yourself nostalgic over the songs of that year
4. Pick 5 songs and write something about how these songs affected you
5. Pass it on to 5 more people

Back in Time

If you could go back in TIME and kill Hitler, would you? How about Stalin? Jack the Ripper? John Wayne Gacey? Ted Bundy? Pol Pot? Or any other maniac in history?

Is life fated? Could one go back and change a significant event in history and not upset the whole planet?

If I went back to September 10th 2001 and prevented 9/11 from happening, would that have been a good thing? All of those people we lost that day would likely still be alive today if I had.

What might they have contributed to the world had they lived? A cure for cancer? The answer to drug abuse? A new invention that could save millions, or enable 3rd world countries to compete in the world market?

Children who are now fatherless or motherless would have their parents there to guide them. That empty place at the table would be no more. Could this possibly be a bad thing? Wouldn’t any of you out there have stopped it if you could have?

Or, would it have made no difference at all? Would there have been another attack somewhere else? Would we have been lulled further into a sense of false security, only to  ultimately lose thousands more?

Would it rip the fabric of intended events and cause an even worse result? I’d like to think that it wouldn’t. I’d like to think that we aren’t just pieces in the giant chess game of life. That we have a choice. That the whole universe and all of life isn’t already mapped out and preordained. That while there may be a giant blueprint of the future and even a master architecht out there somewhere that the design elements can still be changed and improved upon. That we can opt out of certain features, even at the last minute.

Because if it is all fated. If it is all preordained then what are we doing here? What is our purpose? To sit and watch? To be spectators as the future rolls out before us? To supply the oooohs and the aaaahs and things unfold?

I don’t think so. I think we all have a choice and make a contribution. I think it is encumbant upon us to seize life by the throat and insist on changing the bad things and on making a difference.

So, I ask you – if you could, what would you change? Who would you stop? What terrible world event would you reverse?

WC

Accident Waiting to Happen?

 

Have you ever known someone who is an accident waiting to happen? My dad  used to say that about my younger sister – albeit affectionately and really joking. But seriously, what about the person, friend, family member, boss, co-worker or neighbor who is always surrounded by controversey, trouble, woes, betrayals and sadness? What’s their story?

I used to think that most people I encountered like this were just drama queens. You know, they craved attention and did much to generate all the noise and sputter themselves? Of course, I’d just dismiss them as a bother. And sometimes it’s true – some people really are drama queens.

Then there are the others. People who are good and kind – who care about others and perhaps even dedicate themselves to helping others – yet, they can’t catch a break. What about them? What karma, pay-back or ugly twist of fate is at play there?

Is it just the luck of the draw? Fate? Reincarnational going around and coming around? Or is it something more sinister and palpable?

Is it someone back there in the shadows pulling the strings like an evil puppet master? Some apparent, well-meaning friend or family member doing things ‘for their own good’ or to ‘help them’?

I think you have to wonder about these things.

For example, I have thought about the Columbine killers (recent events brought it to mind). They were just kids. Certainly it’s possible that they were just born evil – I believe some people are, but were they? Or were they just eaten at day in and day out by a ‘friend’ or relative who claimed to have their best interest at heart. I’m not talking about the bullying excuse. We all get bullied. We all get teased. We all had miserable existences through high school and adolescense. And at least in those cases, we have the potential to fight back. We can employ others to help us, we may not, but we have the potential.

I’m talking about the kind of person in our lives that we can’t fight back against. The one who holds some sway over our lives and maybe even our existence. The ones who make you feel trapped and about whom you can do little or nothing, save moving to the opposite end of the world to escape their reach. Did these boys have such a person in their lives? Why were such young children on chemical re-arranging drugs? I remember my teen years and though, like most of us, I was pretty miserable, there wasn’t anything for which I needed to take mood controlling drugs. (And please, I’m not talking about mental disease here, I’m not discussing clinical depression or situations of that nature). You have to wonder – why were these children drugged and why are so many children drugged today?

Is it really an emotional issue or are they being oppressed by the very people who claim to love and protect them? You have to wonder if these kids or any other person so distraught actually got away from their oppressors if they wouldn’t return to their normal selves. Don’t you?

I’ve had some people in my life who have driven me nuts. Some were just annoying but others weren’t so easy to shrug off or get rid of either. Some were a fixed part of my life and I turned into a different person around them. I became a whimpering, whiney, frightened victim in their presence. One friend in particular made my life miserable for years. I just couldn’t figure out what I’d done to offend her so much. Why I displeased her so much. And found myself in a constant state of trying to make up whatever damage I had done. Have you ever tried to make up for something you didn’t know you did? Ever tried to make right a wrong you never committed? It’s hell and I don’t recommend it.

During the time I was friends with this person, I had three car accidents, stopped writing, was in a perpetual state of tears and was convinced I was just bad to the bone.

I don’t’ remember what the final straw was, only that there was one. That one day I realized that this person  had her own agenda and I had nothing to do with whatever demons she was battling. I was simply an actor in her play. After that, it was easy to walk away. It was easy to let go of the baggage that wasn’t mine. It was easy to be me again. But it was years in the making. Years that were wasted on needless suffering and confusion.

So, if you’re feeling like me – and can’t figure out what’s so bad about you, maybe you too have a friend like her. Or a boss, or teacher or co-worker. My advice: walk away. As fast and as soon as  you can. You’ll find that you really are still there.

WC

In Your Wildest Dreams

Recently, a friend of mine offered me a visit to her home (halfway across the world, mind you) and described the stay as if it were written in some beautiful, glossy travel brochures. It sounded heavenly. I’d have no cares or woes, just fun, peaceful bliss and lots of time to do whatever I wanted. My knee-jerk reaction was to complain about how reality wouldn’t stand for it. But…it still sparked something in me. It allowed me to dream (for a minute) about what I would do if I could simply take a year off.

Like, Poof! You now have a year off to do anything your little heart desires. You will suffer no consequences and at the end of said year, you may return to your normal life – no harm, no foul.

It was a heady thought and really did get my wheels turning – can you hear the screeching? I actually sat down and gave it some thought. What would I do if I had a ‘free year’? If I could do absolutely anything and there would be no negative ramfications?

Write: I’d write. I’d write up a storm. I’d write, articles, short stories, novels, scripts, menus, letters, poems, anything and everything. I’d also submit like mad, enter every contest I could find, spend the time to get a good agent and a publisher. I’d allow myself to feel like a writer, act like a writer, think like a writer, without the dull ache of everyday interferring. And from that, I think I’d change somehow. Maybe not physically, but it’s possible, but certainly on the inside there’d be a change. I might even lose that hangdog expression I get when I feel frustrated and hopeless. The world would once again, become a fascinating, interesting and beautiful place. It would be the source of wonder and joy. An open book, so to speak. Oh yes, it would definitely change me.

Blog: Naturally, I’d blog – I doubt much of anything would change that. But I sense that my blogging would also take on a new tone. Maybe it would be more fun or interesting. I’d have more time to learn about things, people, places, whatever. Maybe I’d even learn some photoshop tricks and make cool pictures. I don’t know – but I’d be the happy, traveling, blogger.

Read: I’d read all the books I’ve been meaning to read. I’d reread my favorite books, perhaps finding a deeper meaning in them than I already do. I’d read the classics, even the Russians. Plays, novels, poetry, volumes of short stories, epress, small press, big houses, small houses. Everything from Shakespeare to Evanovich.

Volunteer: I always wanted to do volunteer work. In my life, I’ve managed some. Like most of us, I give to charities when I can. Not much, but something. But I’d really like to somehow help in a way that would make a difference. I’ve often pondered being a Big Sister or volunteering at the V/A, or a children’s ward in a hospital, St. Jude’s. All of the above, and more. I have a strong desire to help others, and it hurts that I simply don’t have the time to do it.

Garden: Remember that 40lb tomato? Oh yeah, I would love to do that. Or something similar. I have always had a knack for gardening, making things grow. There is something wonderful about seeing seeds turn into living, growing things. Something wonderful about eating fresh veggies out of the garden. Seeing a beautiful carpet of flowers zooming across the landscape. I might even learn how to make my own compost heap. Exciting stuff, eh?

Travel: With the exception of my perilous two cross country drives between here and Florida, I’ve never really traveled. Some years back, I wanted to just pay off all my bills, save some money, buy a jeep or truck and just take off. I would travel around, stop in and see friends all over the country, take on odd jobs as I needed to and write about my adventures. I’d be a travel tramp, so to speak. See much of my beautiful and awesome country, try different foods, learn about different traditions and so on. I know a lot of people might prefer to go to Europe or places more exotic, but I’ve always yearned to see my own country and learn about it. Although, I might have to make a pit stop in Austrailia, as I seem to have a few friends there. 😉 

Work Out:  Once upon a time, I was in good physical condition. I used to run 5 miles a day, had a great bod and amazing stamina. In recent years I’ve turned into a bowl of mush. It’s embarrassing – but we go back to the workaday life, the lack of time and energy and that’s what you get. I would really like to feel physically fit again. Feel like learning tennis or running a few miles wouldn’t kill me. Like to spring out of bed and greet the day, rather than groan and beg for coffee first thing in the morning.

I’d spend more time with friends and family: There never does seem to be enough time for this either. I haven’t seen my Mom or my siblings for a few years. Not to mention, cousins, aunts and uncles. And it’s not good for the soul to feel disconnected and disjointed from the family and friend units.

Of course, I realize that I’d probably have to take five years to accomplish all of this – still I wouldn’t mind trying. I wouldn’t mind at all. In fact, I’d love it. And I’m sure if I did, I’d become a different person – a better person, someone I’d like a lot. And after writing all of this down, my heart is telling me that maybe I should give it a try. How I could pull it off is a total mystery to me – but I’d sure like to.

So, there is my idyllic life, in a nutshell.

How about you? If you had a whole year off to do anything under the sun, moon and stars, what would it be? What would you do? Would you, afterwards, really be able to go back to your old life? Or would you have changed your life forever?

WC

I’m Rambling…

 

I reach out for something to grasp but find empty hands. Darkness. Confusion. Nothing there and no one home.

The only noise is the silence that moves stealth like a viral disease, looking for its next victim.

It’s shaken us, this tragedy that has no explanation – and what explanation could it have? It would still be senseless and without merit. It would still diminish, harangue and frighten.

Safe is not a place out there. It never was. Safe has to be somewhere deep inside that enables you to carry on. Proves to you that there is sunlight outside the door that stands between you and everyone else.

Clutched hands and wrinkled, sodden hankies will not help us now. “Woe is me,” is nothing but a poor replacement for saying something honest. “The world has gone mad” or has it? Are we really that helpless?

Do we not still have our free will, our ever-adaptable minds and individual spirits?

Isn’t it possible even now or because of now, to be bigger than ourselves? Rising to the challenge of facing what makes us want to run away must be key to finding our voices and ourselves again.

Do the words of a rambling mind reach or repel you?

Life is fluid, always changing, despite any indication to the contrary. If we remain frozen in the moment, we are ceasing to live and therefore exist. Aren’t we?

I wish for us, to find our joy and hold fast. To flaunt it where darkness lurks and screeches. To choke off the fear and apathy.

Safe, is the place we make in our hearts and it cannot be taken from us unless we offer it up for slaughter.