A few of my favorite things

The smell of coffee grounds, so rich and fragrant and comforting
The bird singing in the backyard. Its song was a sound of pure perfection.
My clean gutters.
The world after a rain. It appears washed and full of new scents and fresh energy.

This again

It's come down to this: frantic web searches on trips to Scotland at a quarter to midnight and this pile of things in the middle of the living room floor.
Hats and shirts and battery chargers and a coffee mug. All these odd collected bits that seep into your life from someone else's and that you didn't really know were there until you had to get rid of the memories.
This loneliness is so bitter and powerful. It devastates me. And when you are in a relationship that leaves you lonely, surely it must be time to gather the memories and shed them.
I just don't know how I'll survive with my soul intact. This ending of relationships is not for me. I wanted a bond, a connection of our two lives into one family. Instead, I have this. A house with dark windows. A bed that is empty.
I spent three years waiting and hoping and those three years simply left me older and emptier.
I have to believe that maybe I can still have happiness, that it's not too late.

simplicity

This moment is nice.
The Christmas tree is brightly lit in the corner, my music is playing and I'm snuggled on the couch with a good book (Edgar Sawtelle).
I have kitchen chairs now too! After living in this house for three months it is wonderful to have something to sit on. Mom and dad came over and brought the chairs and hung my pictures on the walls. We also discovered a leak in the ceiling because the gutters are too full. If only I had a ladder.....
Today was really good, if ordinary. I enjoyed the simple routine of washing the dishes in the sink and doing laundry and reading books to Nat and spending time with family. I feel rested and ready to face work tomorrow with new zest!

Book Club

Books are things I could not imagine my life without. They are food for my soul, inspiration for my spirit, fuel for my imagination.
I am a total nerd and think a good book is the perfect companion.
Recently I wrote out a list of goals and on that goal list I put that I wanted to read a Ron Rash book. Ron Rash is an author who is a native of my area. He writes Appalachian/Southern type stories and I've been wanting to read his books since I wrote a short profile on him for work.
A couple of weeks ago, a coworker brought his latest book, Serena, to work and offered to let me read it.
It was good. I like the way he captures the speech and mannerisms and spirit of the Southern culture. And, though I found the main character, Serena, to be dispicable, I admired her too. She is so cool, so calm, so sure of herself. Sometimes I wonder what it would be like to be free from emotions that cause me so much pain and heartache in my own life. I want just a little of her strength and self-sufficiency and acceptance for the way things are.

What is a book that you have read and enjoyed lately?

As long as I'm living....

Nat was loud tonight. She yelled NO when I came in after work and kissed her cheek.
She ran from me and made growling noises. She was obstinate and put up a fight when I changed her diaper and put on her pajamas. She challenged me about everything.

Now, she is in bed, singing to herself little tuneless songs and talking in the dark.
When I carried her to bed she wrapped her little arms around my neck, and for a moment, gave me a hug.
She is so wild. So difficult. So sweet.

And now she is crying. mooommmyyyy!!

I'm having a hard time tonight.
But the world is having a hard time tonight. There are famines and wars and deaths.
But there are good things too.
I need to remember those now so I don't become swamped by these bad feelings.
The sun rose this morning. I made it through this day. Nat hugged me tonight and rested her head, briefly, on my shoulder.
I'm able to take care of us.
All is ok.

what really matters

I got a call from work around 8 this evening telling me to come in to work, there had been a shooting in Spring Terrace.
I was pissed. I had just gotten off from work about two hours earlier and was in another county a good hour away from the scene. I wondered why no one else, no one closer, could take it. But I turned around and headed back to the city.
The neighborhood was off of the main highway and I knew it was the right place when I saw cars lining the street and clusters of people illuminated in my headlights.
I grabbed my notebook and a pen, stuffed my keys in my pocket, and approached the first person I saw. It was a man, fairly big, probably in his 50s.
I brusquely asked what had taken place, that I heard there had been a shooting.
The man stood there for a moment, stepped so close to me, the darkness couldn't hide his face anymore.So close I felt slightly uncomfortable.
My son. he said, his blue eyes flat, empty.
It's my son. He shot hisself.
He shot hisself. He repeated.
Him and his wife just recently separated and he killed himself.
I felt all my annoyance melt away and an embarassment that I was out here, trying to get details from him for a news story, when his whole world had just come crashing down.
I'm sorry. I told him. And then I walked away.
We don't report on suicides so after attempting to find a police officer to confirm that it was a suicide, I left. Walking past huddled groups of people in the dark, the only sounds soft voices and weeping.
It was a bit of a reality check; just let go of the little things.

This is the way it is

It's been raining. The sky is a sodden grey, the leaves heavy and damp have been falling thickly from trees, cluttering sidewalks and collecting on the hoods of cars. The air is full with moisture and smoke-like fog.
It makes me feel quiet and contemplative and a bit sealed off from the world.
I drove to work this morning, hair still damp from my shower, coffee in hand, and thought about how much more complicated life becomes when you grow up.
Suddenly there are tricky relationships to navigate, big decisions to make and lists of responsibilities. Instead of being taken care of, the full burden of care is on my shoulders.
I bring home the bacon and kiss scrapes and do the laundry and clean the gutters and pay the mortgage.
Some days I feel like Atlas with this impossible load on my back. Other days I feel like superwoman, able to leap tall buildings with ease.
I'm getting used to this. Used to my routines and responsibilities. Used to my own expectations.
Sometimes I'm afraid that I'm so used to it that I won't want it to change.

After

So the room is green, cucumber green, which does not show up well in the picture. It looks much more fantastic in real life. It's a lovely cool, calming color that really goes great with the white trim and hardwood floors.
I am pleased with how it turned out.

Autumn's Lover

Autumn reminds me of passion and strong emotions.
It must be all those fiery reds and brilliant blue skies. There is nothing subtle about the season; rather it bursts upon your senses and demands your attention and admiration.
It is bold and sassy and flaunts it's beauty with audacity.
Autumn attempts to sweep over you full force, perhaps because it knows how short-lived its glory truly is and that bitter winter will soon come and strip it bare of all color and vitality.
While it is here I intend to breathe all that color in and enjoy every minute of its passion and intensity.

Sunday Mornin'

Started off with coffee of course



Played with Nat



Did some dishes



And laundry



Then relaxed with a book and a blanket in the sunshine

Before...

I picked out the paint for my room today. I think it's going to look fantastic.
We went to Walmart and stood at the paint counter and watched as the man meticulously pried open a lid of white semi-gloss, added shots of various colors, mixed it up, and magically turned out the exact shade I wanted.
I can't wait. Tomorrow I will put down newspapers, roll up my sleeves and get to work.
It will be my oasis.

Single Moms

Somebody told me I was their inspiration today. That I was amazing.
I don't feel like an amazing inspiration.
I feel like I'm somebody who made it through
by taking it one day at a time.
And spending lonely nights with a lot of tears
and heartache.
I'm just a survivor of a bad decision turned good.
I told her
it will get easier.
it will get better.
hang on- you're doing great!
Now
I'm so so so thankful I did hang on. I did keep going.
When I look at Natalie I see the most wonderful amazing thing
the love of my life. My inspiration.

Anticipation

This week has been ever so long.
That long weekend of all work and elections keeping us up and busy till midnight. And that same routine of driving home in the dark, watched by freshly appeared stars, to spend a slice of evening with Nat and then fall into bed.
The kitchen has dishes in the sink.
The laundry is piled up in the basket.
The floors need mopping.
But this weekend will be wonderful.
Cleaning and relaxing and a new book by Nicholas Sparks.
And snuggling up close with his arms around me, secure, content.
Ahhh it will be sheer bliss.

Pregnancy Resource Center

We sat across from each other on a floral print couch in a little waiting room.
I clasped papers in my hands. Papers with information and suggestions and the offer of help. Flimsy papers that couldn't even come near addressing the enormity of my fear and fatigue.
And then she paused, in between telling me about the point system and earning baby items, and she asked to pray with me.
She took my helpless white hands in her warm brown ones, and she prayed for my unborn baby and the unknown future and the strength to bear both.

Ever since, I think I've carried that prayer with me as if it were a token of generosity and thoughtfulness. It gave me courage and continually reminds me that life is about love and compassion and passing on a helping hand.

Bucket List

I've been mentally reveiwing my goal list lately, that list of things I hoped to accomplish at some point in my life, and have realized it might be time to create a new one.
There are a couple of reasons I want to do this.
First, I've crossed so many off my list I need to add new ones to fill it out againt.
Second,it keeps me inspired, gives me hope and keeps my dreams alive.
The knowledge I have something to work toward motivates and engages me.As of this morning, here is my list. Some are long-term, others are immediate.

One. Decorate my house. I woke up this morning and decided I need to paint my room. The possibilities are so exciting!
Two. Read a book by Ron Rash. I wrote a profile on him for the paper and have been wanting to read his books ever since.
Three. I am wanting soooo badly to travel. Somewhere. Anywhere. Even just for a week or two.
Four. Make a picture blog. Just thought of this now but what fun that would be!
Five. Write a book.
Six. Work for a magazine.
Seven. Do volunteer/charity work. Perhaps with pregnant, unwed mothers.
Eight.Visit all the states.
Nine. Visit all the provinces
Ten. Raise Natalie to be a happy succesful person

I am proud of the things I did scratch off the list and more will follow!

Nat

This is my Nat.
She makes my heart happy.
When she smiles it’s impossible not to smile with her because her happiness is so strong and undiluted. It’s contagious.
I love to watch her discover life and the sheer joy with which she embraces it. There is no fear or inhibition or apprehension.
A pinecone is a treasure. Watching your feet when you walk is fun. Climbing up and down the steps, walking backwards, and pushing lightweight furniture around the house is entertaining. And she has such zeal for everything she does!
She woke up crying in the night tonight. I wrapped her up in blanky and sat in the rocking chair with her snuggled against my chest, little arms and legs all curled in like a frog. Her hair was soft against my cheek and smelled like shampoo. We rocked for twenty minutes, her fast asleep and me feeling too content just holding her, listening to her breathe, to get up. Eventually I put her back to bed and snuck away.
I don’t think I fully knew what true love was until I had my Natalie.

10 pm

Lovely day. He held my hand, those big fingers closing over mine, and it left my heart feeling warm and happy and singing like a song bird.
And we shared sweet kisses until that lonely place was all filled up.

A few other highlights from this weekend:

-Morning walks with Nat. The air crisp as a new apple. The neighborhood lazy in its weekend state.
-The train that passes by at night. I can hear the cars swaying over the tracks, the whistle's long, drawn-out warning, and its bulk as it rushes by. Click. Click. Click. over the rails.
-My pumpkin pie.
-The lazy afternoon on his porch, watching the Ultralight take off from the tiny airport across the road, talking about everything and nothing.
- My bed. And the sleep that shall soon follow.

And today I made pie

Made from a real pumpkin and baked up with spices and sweetness that has left my kitchen smelling oh so good.



It has brought Autumn days into the house.

Just a note

I'm here. Home. Norah Jones is singing to me and the livingroom is warmly lit and cozy. I'm sitting here wondering if it perhaps it's a dream? Perhaps all this isn't mine-the big backyard with the elusive peacock, the wide livingroom window, the little porch- perhaps I simply hoped until it felt real.
No, I believe it is real.
I have a real house.
I have a new job starting next week.
I'm pretty damn happy

I am ready

Sometimes it seems like the very act of rebuilding my life from the ruins it had fallen into required all my strength and life and passion until there was nothing left for dreams.
I remember when I dreamed of great things, of great writing and travels and noble works that helped save humanity. Somewhere along the way it was replaced with the desire to pay my bills and tuck money away into savings and find a better job and buy a house. The foundation of my dreams shifted into something that might be more realistic but that leaves me feeling as if I have abandoned a part of myself that strived for greater things.
The need to live outside the boundaries of the “American Dream” and give deeper meaning to my life than the white picket fence and brick house, has been pushed aside in the face of motherhood and sheer survival. I am just now recovering from an event that left me deeply wounded and maddeningly helpless. The pieces are starting to come together again, my heart is healing, I am gathering courage to once again dare to dream. To dream of things that might be beyond my finger tips but that I will strive for nonetheless. I still care. I still want to save humanity in some shape or form, preferably through the power of the pen, and I still have this gnawing hunger in my mind, my heart, to step out into this terrifying, dizzying, unexpected life and make a difference. To highlight the sufferings of others, to educate the ignorant, to motivate the masses. I want to be the catalyst to a change that is more than political or religious or regional but that is simply human.
I cannot live my life and reach the end knowing I have not done anything to change the things that need to be changed, or to at least attempt to.
Tonight, as I finished unpacking boxes that held bits of history that were both painful and joyful, I recovered elements of that dream. I collected the bits of hope like broken shards of glass, and I will re-melt them, remold them, into something new and stronger and more persistent than before.
I am ready to dream new dreams.

Last night...

...as I lay awake in my bed, a cricket sang outside the door. He sang of summer grass growing cool and strings of geese flying south, over the bend of the globe. He spoke of a falling leaf, burning red as an ember, and the scent of wood smoke on the air.
I listened to his song, the song of autumn shambling near, and I welcomed it as one does welcome a change that brings with it the taste of hope. For I have hope that this autumn will be gentle to me and provide a cooling balm on the aching wound of my heart. Love has left me fallen in a pile of cold ashes and I want to rise and wash these smudges from my skin and shake the smoke from my hair.
I want this chapter I am opening to contain grand plans and fairytales. This Autumn I will strengthen my lungs with crisp, newly minted air and breathe back out the anger and heat of summer. I will mend slowly in my niche, my home, my belonging place, and grow stronger than before. And the weeds that grew up this summer will be pulled up by the roots, dirt dangling from the pale twisted roots, and I will throw them away to be burned. And by the time winter draws near, we will be tucked in and ready, waiting for spring to tap us softly and wake us up, the ground fresh and rich and ready for planting, ready for so much
more than weeds.