Friday, July 28, 2017


Today I give thanks for the time to be here on this quintessential summer day. I have the morning to myself. The house is quiet. My mind is at peace and my heart is full just like my cup of coffee, which tastes especially good this morning.

The first sound I heard this breezy morning was the gentle ringing of my mom's wind chimes. There are times...many times...I don't even notice them even as they are perched outside my open bedroom window. Today was not one of them. Today is a day for noticing things. Honoring them too. I heard in their soulful music a missive more than a message. The healing directive sounded like: lighten the load. Don't worry. Be kind to yourself and My reply: an audible heartfelt thank you.  An inaudible: I'm trying.

I've been feeling my mom a lot during this stretch of summer. I've been missing her even more. It's sort of how it works. When I'm busy busy busy not noticing, I don't know what I'm missing. Then I'm doing dishes one heart-heavy evening and out of the corner of my eye, I catch sight of a hummingbird visiting my petunias. Instantly I'm overcome with this rush of emotion. I know my mom sends the birds. I know because I feel it. It's the only hummingbird I've seen all summer, and she came at just the right time. I have always believed that coincidence is anything except for random.


In all honesty the first sound I heard this morning was T. Bone's alarm. He prefers to wake up to some dirge-like rap music only he's so attuned to it that it rarely makes him stir. He was getting picked up at 6 o'clock a.m. to travel about an hour for a golf tournament. He's playing in a scramble with a friend today. I received a text a little while ago that read: T and I are struggling but it's really fun. No worries. Fun cannot be overrated. He's already had highs this week. Well, actually lows. Low scores. A 74 in one tournament that earned him second place, and a 75 in 18 with friends. His passion for this sport, which my dad says is more skill than sport, is unparalleled. He plays rain or shine, alone or with others, day or night.

 Just the other night he called home to ask Mike to come to the course and help him keep his eye on the ball. It was getting dark and he was loosing sight of it. He was also shooting under par and he wanted to finish his round. Mike was tired and we were all waiting for dinner, but he went. He happily went. Ted doesn't need us much these days so when he does, damn straight we'll be there. He's more independent by the day as he should be, but of course it forces me to fast forward to what's looming in the purview. I practice, but I've yet to perfect it.


Lily is volunteering this week at the nature center for the camps she used to attend. She's enjoying it. Them. Them being the kindergartners. She told me yesterday that they're so cute and they all want to hold her hand and sit in her lap. This makes me wax poetic about what an amazing big sister she would have been. We should have had a third child. This is also the season of regret. It's such a useless emotion, and yet it is pervasive and persistent. Not today though. Today is for the present. And in the future we've promised her a dog. A small dog when Teddy goes to college. 

She approached our family friend who also volunteers at the nature center. Mary later sent me this message: OMGoodness. A kind, beautiful, poised, tall young lady and I just had a lovely visit. Honestly it's a good thing Lily said hello; I would not have known her." How could she have. There are mornings when I look at her and am certain she has changed overnight. We haven't seen Mary in almost a year.

Why haven't we seen Mary in almost a year?


I spent 3 hours on the phone last night. I literally talked until my battery died. My mom used to get in a mood to gab on the phone all night long. Usually every few months. She'd get out her phone book and start dialing. It used to make me crazy because I couldn't get all the day's gossip from my friends. It's funny how we all startle in this house when our landline rings. It's becoming such a foreign concept, and don't even get me started on someone ringing the doorbell. When that happens, we're all annoyed and like Who is at the door?!? 

I called my aunt and uncle. My mom's brother. We haven't talked since Christmas so I knew it would be a lengthy conversation. It just so happened that they were expecting both their girls and their families to arrive last night for the weekend. I felt a surge of sadness as if I put my finger in a socket. The word that was on the tip of my tongue was tizita: memory tinged with regret.

Also full-fledged jealousy. I so badly want my mom. I just hope my cousins know how lucky they are. I think they do. They are good girls. I feel lucky too. My aunt and uncle have made a real effort to have relationships with my children, and I feel immense gratitude for that. We'll road trip to Michigan next month. Ted will golf with my uncle while Lily and I go dune buggying or shopping with my aunt. They're excited we're coming.


Last night I dreamt that my brother and sil had a baby.


After we hung up, I called my cousin. She's coming to town next week. She's seriously thinking of moving from NYC to Wisconsin. She was born and raised in Colorado. Since losing her mom last October, she feels untethered and especially alone. She wants to be closer to family. I understand that even as I am living proof that loneliness is a fact of the unmothered life no matter where you live. 


I'm reading The Bright Hour this week. I think it may explain this post. I was compelled to come here after reading 19. The Blade this morning. I simply could not read another page.

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