The Journal

thinking, writing, learning

Even in Winter

·

enjoying the barrier beach

We escaped from winter in Virginia to winter in Rhode Island, though people who know me, know the trip is not about the weather. I consider this place home, and I need to check in every now and again. My son’s family decided to come along, and his daughter Annie LOVES the water.

When we made a quick stop to see the beach, she asked if she could put her feet in the water. 30 degrees!! But she did, and she came back with a huge smile on her face. As long as I am with them, I will never say no to a passion or interest.

Today it is raining/snowing, and we’ll do crafts at the dining room table.

I am enjoying each moment.

Holidays That Last for Days

·

When you have an extended family, celebrating means day after day after day! But one good element of this pattern is being able to spend quality time with each family. I have also come to know that love is the tiny moments. Pat Schneider was a poet who had a profound impact on me. This is her poem, “Lessons”

Have good lessons this holiday season.

LESSONS
Pat Schneider

I have learned
that life goes on,
or doesn’t.
That days are measured out
in tiny increments
as a woman in a kitchen
measures teaspoons
of cinnamon, vanilla,
or half a cup of sugar
into a bowl.

I have learned
that moments are as precious as nutmeg,
and it has occurred to me
that busy interruptions
are like tiny grain moths,
or mice.
They nibble, pee, and poop,
or make their little worms and webs
until you have to throw out the good stuff
with the bad.

It took two deaths
and coming close myself
for me to learn
that there is not an infinite supply
of good things in the pantry.

A Re-thinking

·

Holidays bring memories, both good and bad, and create added stress to the already expectation-filled days. This year I’ve done a good job of relaxing through it. My goal was to write every day, take time to intentionally breathe/pause, and to release those expectations. It seems to be working.

My list:

  • Lighting candles at supper every night, even if it’s just a salad
  • Writing poetry every day (and not worrying about form, structure, or audience)
  • Taking a walk, even when it’s freezing (I do need to stop whining to David about it)
  • Sticking to my eating plan (no bread, reduced sugar, reduced alcohol, LOTS of fiber, no meat, and lots of water)
  • Thinking about what I’m grateful for (such a cliche, but it does work)
  • Journaling and exercising every morning

My writing has helped me come to terms with my relationship with my parents. In many ways they were loving, kind, and generous. The past few years, I found myself concentrating on how hard my childhood was– growing up as a “need to please” child, which in turn made me an insecure teen and adult. But writing has allowed me to realize the cycle of parenting. I’m sure my own children have their anger and frustration over my lack of consistent care giving, and I do wish I’d done many things differently. Yet, I am so proud of the men they have become and the fathers they are. What more could I ask?

So this was a recent bit of writing…and made me realize how much I miss special moments with my parents. Today I am grateful for my friend Donna, who shares her photos with me for writing inspiration. A window that I might literally look through, and a window that gives me a different emotional perspective. There are cracks and there is light. How beautiful.

What I Know

Mornings in my childhood home
come with a gift: orange and pink
brilliance sprays across the pond,
and fills the sky. The sun lifts, bounces
its rays off boats. Finally, yellow touches
the miracle blue and drifting white clouds.
I race to the dock to photograph
the horizon again, as I’ve done so often.
How many photos of mornings can one have?

There’s a first time for everything,
and a last.
A walk with him.
A hot cup of coffee on the porch with her.
A few words from a hospital bed.

Perhaps knowing of endings
tugs me out of bed when dawn
barely pokes through the window.

Home Again, Home Again

·

But where is home?

When people ask where I am from, my answer is: Rhode Island. But I live 3/4 of the year in Virginia and have for more than 45 years.

It’s complicated. I have a love of all things New England, and I find the peace and solitude of my grandmother’s house to be just what I need. People have asked why we don’t move there full time. But our kids are all in the VA area (or close enough to visit), and we have friends and a history here, too.

So we “wobble” back and forth.

I do wonder how long we will be able to keep this up. Packing and unpacking, a horrible 9-hour drive, forgetting things and having to rely on friends in both places to keep us going, and simply the stress of living in two different places will eventually get to me.

Until then…..

Summer learning:

I am writing poetry inspired by my friend Donna’s photography. We have much in common, and we are finding those links in our work and conversations. What a joy it has been…

Learning to sleep again is a challenge. I seem to get a system that works for a while, but then I need to shake things up. For the time being, one of these and two of these help.

My favorite podcast lately is Pulling the Thread with Elise Loehnen. Her most recent with Estelle Frankel has me searching for Estelle’s book.

Now it’s nap time– the effects from the booster vaccination must be kicking in!

Pushing My Body

·

getting ready….
water ski “fail”

One of my favorite activities growing up in Rhode Island was water skiing. I’d wake up early and head to the pond to catch the smooth water.

The other night my cousin (8 years younger than I) asked if anyone wanted to go skiing. I had a moment of craziness, and thought, “why not?” It had been 6 years since I’d skied, but how hard could it be, I thought. Like riding a bike :)

After agreeing, there was no turning back. His son, my son, and my grandson were in the boat, and I jumped in the pond. Just getting the skies on in the water is an ordeal (they keep sliding up and under you…it takes some effort to get them up in the “ready” position.)

Finally, I yelled “hit it!” I barely got my butt out of the water when I felt the handle pull out of my hands. As I hit the water, I felt a pain in the back of my head, and in short order, I felt nauseous. Nevertheless, I was in, and I attempted once more. No way. This old body just wasn’t going to make it. I’ve spent two days with a headache and sore muscles. It could have been worse.

I really don’t know what I was thinking. I haven’t been exercising as much as I should. And I’m not 17 anymore! Getting old, making the transition to old age, means giving up certain things. I have been spending much time this summer thinking about how I want to live out the end of my life. It may be 25 years or perhaps less. But I’m not kidding myself now– it will be different.

Even so, I can take care of myself so I stay healthy and active. I’ll watch my grandchildren learn to swim and ski on this same pond. And I’ll love every minute of having generations come back to Carters’ Landing, the place my grandparents built for all of us.

I can’t imagine anything more joyful.