Life Goes On

Beginning Again

It seems like every year at this time I find myself writing about the same thing - the feeling that Fall is the true New Year, the time to Begin Again.

Ironic, isn’t it? For us in the northern hemisphere, Fall brings the END of summer, and the end of the natural growth cycle. Already my once glorious flowers have begun to wither and I spy a few leaves tinged with crimson and gold. But for all that autumn brings The End of some things, it brings the beginning of school, a time I’ve always associated with the excitement of fresh starts.

This year is no different. If anything, I feel an increased anticipation to “get back to work,” as it were. Retirement is all well and good, but I’ve lately felt a call for productivity and purpose. A call to accomplish things that are important to me.

Seas of Grace

On March 24, 2017, the first anniversary of my mother’s death, I was in Scottsdale, Arizona, visiting a dear friend who I jokingly refer to as my “other mother.” Last year, on the second anniversary of her death, Jim and I were in Nashville at the Brentwood Arena along with thousands of other people at an Eagles concert.

Today, on the third anniversary of losing my mother, I am at home with my husband and my puppy. We do all the familiar morning things - drink coffee in bed, read, rub the puppy belly and get puppy kisses in return. We will walk Lacey along her now familiar pathways here in the neighborhood. I’ll make lunch, maybe go into town to the library or wander through Barnes and Noble and spend some of the gift card I received for my birthday a couple of weeks ago.

Then I’ll pick up some flowers and drive over to the cemetery. The flowers will not last - it’s still too cold, and technically according to the cemetery rules I’m not even supposed to put flowers out right now. This is the time of year they’re beginning spring clean ups and they don’t want people making more work for them I guess. But too bad. I’ll take them anyway.

I won’t linger long. As I said, it’s still cold here - colder than it has any right to be at the end of March. But the weather aside, it doesn’t help me to be at the cemetery anymore. I remember my mother every single day, I don’t need to stand on her grave to do it.

Already August

Seasons come and go so quickly, don’t they? Already it’s August. My little grandson has been here for the past 10 days, and will go home to Texas next week to prepare for his first day of school on August 16. I’m happy that Michigan schools continue to schedule opening day after the Labor Day holiday - mid-August seems too early to begin the autumn rite of passage that is First Day of School.

WE Are America

I sat down at my computer this morning intending to write about marriage and life and the reinvention of both. 

But instead I’m going to write a different sort of blog post.

One about children. Because something horrible is happening to children in this country, and I can’t be quiet about it any longer. 

I’m not just talking about the threat of gun violence in schools, although that is horrific and mind-boggling and terrifying. Right now I’m talking about hundreds of children who have been taken from their parents at border crossings and imprisoned in detention centers.

This inhumane and torturous action is being perpetrated by the United States government


Broken Engagement

A few weeks ago I wrote of my intention to limit my time on social media, and as you would imagine, I have had varying degrees of success. To paraphrase an old song, it’s a hard habit to break, and most of you are well aware of that.

On days when I am successful, however, here’s what happens: I’m more content, more focused, less flustered, and I accomplish a whole lot more. And by accomplish, I don’t mean just checking stuff off my to-do list. The biggest accomplishment I’ve achieved in those days when the phone stays tucked into its pocket inside my purse and the iPad remains closed on the kitchen counter is that of doing nothing. Of sitting on my couch and looking out the window, watching birds fly in and out from the feeder, listening to my little dog snoring softly from her bed in the corner. 

Of being quiet.