“Your whole house smells of dog, says someone who comes to visit. I say I'll take care of it. Which I do by never inviting that person to visit again.”
― Sigrid Nunez, The Friend
it is an ordinary week until it isn’t. there is garden work,
new treats for the dog, walks, and rowing.
life seems to have taken on an easy going
rhythm, full of unencumbered love and sweetness,
”oh, there you are,” i tell myself . . .
we celebrate his 36th birthday for two full days.
we celebrate with too much food,
too much hard cider, and his favorite cookies.
i bask in their laughter, falling into bed each night
tired and happy.
i laugh as they take selfies and do my best
to take it all in.
my love for all of them so easy now,
if that makes sense.
the boys ignore their mother when i tell them
to look at me. i can’t hear what they are talking about, but allow them to
ramble, to sink into brotherly behavior and a sense of humor only they share.
the girls follow my cue, and i can’t help but feel
that they are the finishing pillars on a frame that completes
a meaningful picture; standing strong with these men they love.
“You write a thing down because you’re hoping to get a hold on it. You write about experiences partly to understand what they mean, partly not to lose them to time. To oblivion.”
― Sigrid Nunez, The Friend
have a lovely rest of your week . . .
“When spring came, even the faults spring, there were no problems except where to be happiest.”
- Ernest Hemmingway
I stand by the flowering quince almost daily with my camera.
I also crawl on the ground among the forget-me-nots.
While he does his very best to not smash the flowers.
“Here is a test to find out whether your mission in life is complete. If you’re alive, it isn’t.”
― Lauren Bacall
i come to understand that the buzz and the turbulence of the online world does nothing for my creativity.
lately the double tap has rendered me indifferent, and aloof, feeling like i am
untrue to both myself and to others. i back away, only to suffer from
enough curiosity that i can’t help myself, and so i return off and on throughout the day.
yet, the connection i feel is illusive and i am encumbered by the sheer number of it all.it
years ago, when i started blogging, a close friend asked
me why? why did i think others were interested in my daily life;
interested in what i was eating, or reading, or what the dog and i were up too?
i really could not answer her with a logical purpose, as i had
no commercial intentions, nor was i seeking an avenue to promote
myself in any manner.
i do it for me, i finally told her; explaining that writing about a simple moment,
or my day, fed my soul. and my camera was like meditation for me, lifting me out
of dark places, shining light into my heart. but why make it public? she asked.
i couldn’t really come up with an answer that satisfied either of us.
today i would have a clear answer for her:
i come here most days to explore this space in some way; it is an extension of my home.
i read past post, look at the photos of Baker as a pup, or Basil, who is gone now.
I bask in summer flowers, as it rains buckets outside, or sit on the dock at the lake
remembering sunsets of summers past. i come here to rest, to meditate, to feed my senses
with memories, and to give gratitude.
i find i rearrange this space to fit my mood and to meet my purpose, as my focus
morphs and redirects, just as my life does.
after all these years it seems i have only one thing figured out: my job is not to control, but to be aware. . .
and i do that best with my camera and a few words, scribbled here.
it gives me purpose.
today i would tell her . . .
i am here to heal, to grow, and for proof of a life that doesn’t always seem to fit.
i am here to document that life with curiosity, great love and gratitude.
I am here to take chances, learn trust, have faith, and feel.
i am here for myself .
Be faithful in small things because it is from them that your strength lies.
- Mother Teresa
