Snipet #17

Percy would remember that moment for many years to come. That moment defined his life, when he answered Evelyn's question without hesitation. As an elderly man, lying on his death bed with his children beside him, he would look at them, yet, past them, to that time in the cave, when he made a decision and it changed his life. He decided to embrace the wind, and his fears, and the hunger. He knew he couldn't live without any of it.

No, he said.

Evelyn looked up then, and smiled a deep smile that touched the very core of both of them.

From that moment on, Percy and Evelyn were inseparable. These two very different young people, were very much the same, and once they came to realize that, there was no separating them.

She told him her dreams.

He told her how his stomach ached when he looked at her.

She told him she loved the smell of lavender.

He told her when he was 6 years old he walked in on his parents making love and he thought his mother looked so sad.

She told him her mother made love to herself.

He told her that he didn't understand love at all.

She told him that love doesn't need to be understood. It just needs to be.

They told each other things they never even realized about themselves. Evelyn felt she had learned more about herself from talking to Percy than she had learned in all the time she spent thinking in her secret place. He was like a precious book to be absorbed, savoured, and devoured.

She found herself wanting to know more. He found himself wanting to be more.

They were on the verge of something beautiful, precious, moist and new. The wind had altered the course of things, as it always did when it came to town. It woke them both up and made them feel the growling hunger in their bellies. And they liked it.

Snipet #16

It took Percy a few minutes for his eyes to adjust to the light in the cave. He could tell he was in a cave because of the way the wind sounded from where he stood, monstrous and moaning. He wasn't at all sure how they arrived at this place, it seemed only seconds ago when she told him to follow her and he just did. He knew that she was taking him somewhere safe so he didn't hesitate. He took her hand and followed. It made sense, yet it was madness all the same. It felt safe, yet the air smelled of sulfur and fury and he was more than a little frightened.

She had led him to an open space that had furs spread about the floor. At first he had jumped because he thought he was touching something living, but she gently shushed him and held a rabbit fur up to his face and rubbed it against his skin. She stared at him with those green eyes that seemed so luminous in this odd light. It was then he noticed that there was a pit in the center of the room and she had started a small fire using dried twigs and vines.

What is this place, he asked her. He knew that someone, if not Evelyn, lived in this cave.

My secret, she replied. You won't tell, will you, she asked.

She looked so beautiful, so glorious in that moment, he would have promised her anything. Her presence, the smell of her wet hair and that look in her eye all combined to intoxicate Percy and he would have died for her right then and there. There was no doubt in his mind that if Evelyn asked that of him, he would not deny her.

Why did you follow me, she asked.

Percy felt foolish and didn't know what to say. He stammered over the words.
Well, I really don't know. Are you mad, he asked.

She sat down next to the fire and rubbed her hands together briskly. It's cold in here. Come sit by the fire, she replied.

He sat down next to Evelyn and being so close to her seemed to warm him from the inside out.

You didn't answer my question. Are you mad, he asked.

Anger is a waste of time, Percy. I don't waste time, she said.

As they sat by the fire warming themselves, they said little for the first few minutes. It was as if being so close to her tied his tongue up in knots. He wasn't usually at a loss for words, but today, each sentence was a struggle. He weighed everything he said before he said it for fear it would come out wrong, so therefore, he didn't say much. It was Evelyn who broke the silence.

I come here sometimes, she said, so I can think. Sometimes my mother doesn't give me time to be with myself, alone. I don't know why, but I think she's afraid to be alone, she needs me around all the time. I love her, she said, and then she sighed, but I love this too.

Percy looked up at her. He had never heard her put more than 5 words together at any one time and had certainly never sat so close to her, or any girl for that matter, so he was a bit disconcerted at the moment.

He managed to say, People are scared of you, you know.

I know, she said, I know. She asked softly, as she put her head down and her hair obscured her face, are you?

I Danced With My Mother

I danced with my mother on Christmas Eve.

I danced with her because I thought I might never get another chance to dance with her on Christmas. I reached out when otherwise I would not...I held her in my arms as if I were the mother and she the child, and we danced.

I know that I will remember that moment always.

Things change, there is nothing that can be done about it. Photos and memories are all we have left of days past...even yesterday, the day before this one, is the past already. We must grab it while we can, those moments when we would rather be alone or would rather not reach out...and do just that.

Reach out. You might not get another chance.

Speeding things up

Laptops (especially NEW ones) really tend to speed things up a bit! I am finding my new computer to be very fast...efficient...and very pleasant to look at! I find that I may be blogging even more than ever, which may please my one or two fans out there...!

The old one had to go. Twenty minutes to turn on a computer...ten minutes to check out Facebook...well, it's just too much to ask. I am usually sentimental, but not about that old relic. Good riddance...see ya later...ta-ta for now!

It's Christmas morning, so I reallly should be getting back to the kiddies. Lots of wrapping paper lying about and coffee to be had and eggs to make.

Just checking in....happy and restful weekend to all!

Thanks

How do you thank someone for their constant, unwavering support? Well...I suppose you could just say thank you...but sometimes you know those two little words aren't enough. It has to be bigger than that...it has to be A BLOG!

I have a friend...I've known her for a long time...not sure how long...feels like she's always just been there. I remember when I first saw her at work. She was introduced to me as the new employee and truthfully, she was nice enough, but I never suspected that she would end up being such a great support for me, such a true friend.

We come from different backgrounds, even different generations, really, and at first glance, one may say that these two women couldn't possibly have anything in common. But beyond that first look, once would see parallels, common thoughts and values that would obviously be a great foundation for mutual respect, if not all out friendship. We come from different worlds, yet we are inherently the same. We are a part of a group of people here at work who struggle with similar issues day in and day out, and that in itself can be a binding material of sorts, but our friendship is based more on what we think about things that are beyond here...our philosophical discussions are among the best I've ever enjoyed! (How do I thank her for keeping my brain stimulated? I live in daily fear that my brain will turn to mush here...but she just won't have it!)

My friend Sherry is one of the few faithful readers of this blog, so I don't worry that she won't see this...I just hope she realizes when she sees this, the sincerity behind my words. She buoys me up when the world threatens to knock me down. She gives me encouragement, even when I'm grumpy and annoying! She has helped me to become the woman I am today.

In her gentleness, she has taught me patience, and shown me that the first voice I should trust and listen to is my own.

I wish everyone in the world could have a friend like her. Steadfast. Patient and true...an example of kindness and compassion.

Saying thank you is simple...but just didn't seem like enough. She deserved a blog just for her. So here it is.

תודה! שלום.

Perfectly Me

Seems that lately I've been taking chances, dipping my toes in the great big ocean of life...shocking really if you knew me well enough. I see myself as a "sidelines" sort of person, someone who likes to observe from the shadows, help with the sets of the big production but would NEVER think of taking a part in the play. I'm just one of those people who prefers to remain incognito. I feel safer that way, I don't feel threatened, stressed or pushed in any way when I am in that place. I can create and feel alright about it.

But, lately I've been diving in...risking safety...listening to myself and putting myself out there. Again...quite shocking. I don't know why. I'm not sure what's changed. Maybe nothing has changed at all. Maybe I just woke up one day and decided my voice was as important as the other ones that have been driving me my whole life. You know those voices, the ones that tell you that you aren't good enough, or smart enough, and that your art is horrid or your writing is mediocre. Those damn voices that get in and you can't pry out, even with a crowbar! I hate those voices and I've given them far enough time to do their damage. Their time is up. Their voices are now being drowned out by the song of my chanting positive mantras...I am ok, my art isn't worthless, my writing isn't a waste of time.

I am not perfect, but I am perfectly me.

In this life, that's all there is.

Perfectly me.

What you find......

What you find in this world is a reflection of yourself. Isn't that the truth? It seems rather a variation on "You reap what you sow."

I would like to say I made it up completely, but I didn't. I read something along these lines in a book recently, and it stuck with me. It's a great thought, slightly re-written by yours truly, and so here it is, deemed blog worthy.

When you try to see the positive, and give off positive vibes, positive things will come back to you. When you wallow in self pity, nothing good can come of that, and you will see the results of that in your life as well. When you expect the worst to happen, or the worst in people, you will always find the worst there is. True, bad things happen to everyone, but a positive outlook can dramatically change what you get back from the world. You reap what you sow.

Give your best to the world, and you will, for the most part, find the best the world has to offer. If you have always dreamed something....make it happen. Sitting around fantasizing something doesn't make it happen. Hard work makes it happen. Determination makes it happen.

Do you dream of a better world? Make one.

Do you dream of happiness for yourself? Grab it.

Do you want a happy ending for your life? Write it!

You are the captain of your ship, not a passenger...steer yourself a course and with the power of your will, carve out a better life. No one can do that except for you.

Snipet #15

As Evelyn ran through the thick woods, she felt as if her feet weren't touching the ground. Nothing, not her clothing nor her hair, the wind nor rain, encumbered her movements. Evelyn was aware of the boy following her, and she was rather pleased with herself. She wondered for a few moments what interest he could possibly have with a girl like her, with her worn cotton dress and dirty scraped knees. She thought of herself in those simplistic terms sometimes, yet really, she felt somehow that there was more to her than her outer shell. She could not be defined by any one thing, least of all her long, bony legs and clothing. What could make him brave the elements to pursue her this way, she couldn't imagine. She had no knowledge of her own power, she just knew she was different. She was ultimately oblivious to the fact that she was a burst of wind and an ache in the belly of everyone around her because she was honesty, and a ethereal, fearless creature. It was this lack of complete awareness, her innocence and the very contradiction of her being that drove Percy on.

Percy kept pace with Evelyn, staying just far enough back to give the illusion that she couldn't see him there. It made him feel better to think that she didn't know he was there because he truthfully didn't know what to do if he caught up to her. He was moving forward, yet didn't really have a plan. He just knew he couldn't stop. If he thought too much about this, he would have froze in place and not taken another step. He would have lost the light he was seeking, and to wander in darkness in the woods was not something Percy wanted to do.

Evelyn stopped abruptly on a slight incline and Percy didn't notice as he was shielding his eyes from the wind and rain with his arm and he almost careened into her back. She turned and looked at him without blinking. He found that odd, as the wind and rain were still raging and it couldn't have been easy for her to keep her eyes open and focused. Percy, she said, as if it were a statement of some important fact, and not just the name his mother gave him. He slipped as a gust of wind rose up and seemed to lift him off his feet. She reached for his arm and said, Come, and she led him off to the secret place where the light and dark come together as one.

Snipet #14

Percy made a quick decision the day he first noticed Evelyn. The storm was raging, yet she was leaving, and he wasn't about to let the moment end quite so abruptly. He wanted to know everything about her, he wanted to feel her hand in his, to disappear into the depths of her, and he couldn't do that standing rooted to the porch floor. So he followed her into the woods and his life would never be the same again.

Evelyn was moving with surety, as would a wild animal running through familiar surroundings. He noticed she had no shoes on, and he wondered how she could tolerate the feeling of the stones and tree roots beneath her feet. He had work boots on, so at least his feet were protected and he wasn't slipping around quite as much as he would have otherwise, but he still had difficulty with the rough terrain and his mind was boggled by the swiftness and ease with which she moved. She was light as air. She was the air. She was part of this place, that much was evident to him, and it made him follow her with even more intensity than before. He wanted to bask in the elements, earth, air, fire and water, and since she was of all these things, she was the prize to be won. He ran on, although blinded by the wind and rain. He began to wonder after a bit, if she was aware he was following her and that this was a game she was playing, that she was perhaps leading him somewhere.

Maybe he wasn't pursuing her. Maybe she was the one chasing him.

Snipet #13

Evelyn had not intended on leaving the house on the day of her 13th birthday, but that's just what ended up happening. She had intended on staying home, enjoying the sponge cake her mother had painstakingly made for her. While Evelyn had been cleaning her room, she pretended not to hear her mother in the kitchen, she acted as if the scent of vanilla wasn't wafting up the stairs to her bedroom. She liked to give that to her mother, the belief that she had surprised her daughter and done something unexpected, even though there was nothing more expected that could occur on her birthday. It was the same every year. This time, however, Evelyn wanted to do something different. Of course she would act surprised when she returned, because her mother was very special to her and she wanted to give her the pleasure and satisfaction of the yearly sponge cake presentation.

After finishing her chores, she snuck out the back door and ran down to the creek to pick some flowers as it was such a lovely day. She wanted to feel the earth beneath her feet, she wanted to roll in the herbs growing by the creek side. Evelyn longed to be free and there was nothing that felt more like freedom to her than the air, and earth and sky. She took deep breaths of it all, and closed her eyes as if enraptured. She felt a part of it, deeply, in her soul. The smooth, rounded stones in the water, the new green leaves fluttering, the sound of the birds call. It was all a part of Evelyn, and she knew this, even if she knew not how that could be possible. She always had a way of sensing things, even as a very young child, and she rarely questioned that. It was just the way she was, and as she had accepted the mystery of Evelyn from a very early age, she showed a confidence beyond her years. Evelyn's demeanor had flustered more than one of her neighbors, but for the most part, that was no concern to her. She felt that she was used to their stares and the way they would tilt their heads, furrow their brows and shake their heads. She didn't believe that she needed nor desired their approval, so she found it rather comical when they showed their obvious dismay. Most of the time, however, as was a Willow Falls tradition, they kept their heads down and went about their lives, seemingly oblivious of her willful streak and her hunger for more.

As she dangled her feet in the cool creek water, she noticed the breeze begin to pick up. At first the leaves in the trees were dancing lightly, now they were beginning to be tossed around and the wind could be heard swirling and smashing it's way through the new greenery. Evelyn leaned her head back and took a deep breath. This wind smelled different, of exotic spices and burning wood and Evelyn was intrigued. She knew she should run home before it got worse. That's what any sensible person would do, however, Evelyn wasn't feeling practical on her 13th birthday. This day was special and smelled of far off places. Something was coming, she could feel it deep inside, down in the center of herself. It was an ache and a longing she had never experienced. So, when Evelyn noticed the boy on the porch of the Red Button General Store for the very first time, she wasn't surprised in the least.

He was part of what was coming.

Snipet # 12

Percy Cooper was born on a clear, sunny day in July seventeen years ago, so he didn't really understand the effect the wind could have on a person's soul. He knew one thing, however, and that was that Evelyn had the spirit of the Wolf within her, and he longed to feel that warmth. He just knew it was warm and he wanted to have a piece of that fire for himself.

Percy was his parents only child, and being raised by these two cool, methodical people was rather like living in a walk in freezer with only hanging slabs of meat for companionship. His parents loved him, of that he had no doubt, yet they failed over the years to bestow upon him any physical affection or words of love and encouragement. They were too busy working, praying and keeping the hunger at bay. They trusted that Percy had a good, solid head on his shoulders, that they had raised him well and that he no longer needed their attention. A parent should know you don't cease to watch over your children when they grow older. That's when they really need you, when they are stepping out into the world and seeing the wider scope of things. But Percy's parents had forgotten that there actually was a great big world out there, so they failed to realize that Percy was treading on dangerous ground, even if he was only doing this, at the moment, in his imagination. If they had payed attention, they may have remembered their own youthful disappointment when they discovered that this was it, that there was no grand adventure somewhere beyond the rainbow. Actually, that's most likely why they didn't pay attention. It would have reminded them that beyond their table full of food was a crater in their bellies that could not be filled.

Percy became hungry the day he first noticed Evelyn's fire, and he wasn't afraid of it. It felt good to yearn with such intensity. He felt alive for the first time, and he longed to swallow her whole.

Snipet #11

Willow Falls was a town where most days were as predictable as a turkey dinner on Thanksgiving. There wasn't much diversity, there wasn't much rule bending or breaking, even from the teenagers there. Most everyone did as was expected of them, even if it left their stomachs aching, just because it was the thing to do. Evelyn didn't take well to self induced torture, and found it more pleasant to do things her own way, much to the dismay of the residents of Willow Falls.

Parents discouraged their daughters from becoming Evelyn's friend, as she was considered a bad influence. She was different and didn't care about it at all. She flaunted her uniqueness and it frightened most folks in town enough to shy away from her. Some of the young people wanted to get to know her, but suppressed that desire as easily as they suppressed most of their feelings. Most youngsters in Willow Falls wore what their parents told them to, ate what was placed in front of them and washed behind their ears without being told. Most of these children, unlike most kids their age, had never felt cold slimy mud between their toes, had never ate raw rhubarb stolen from their neighbors garden, nor had they dreamed of anything other than what they were told was acceptable. Evelyn had done all these things, and she wore her defiance like a red cloak on a grey day. It's not that Evelyn was a bad girl, because her heart knew compassion and her conscience was a voice she listened to. It was only that her spirit was wild and windblown and couldn't be satisfied. That hardly makes a person bad, it just makes them different, and different is only considered bad if you live in Willow Falls. Unfortunately for Evelyn, that's exactly where she landed when the wind died down on the day she was born, and it was hard to convince anyone of her loving nature. They only saw her strange eyes and one too many fingers and they were convinced the devil had been visited upon them. Only one person in town had the nerve to admit that they were just a bit jealous of Evelyn's freedom and that they longed to look into her wild, unpredictable eyes and that was Percy Cooper.

Percy's parents, William and Irene, ran The Red Button General Store in town as Irene's parents had done before her. They lived their lives with the same cool efficiency most people in Willow Falls did. Their routine was flawless and without deviation. Their store opened promptly at 6:00 am everyday, save for Sunday, which was reserved for worship and family time. Percy didn't remember a day when his parents were too ill to open the store. Percy didn't remember any day or week or month that didn't seem like all the rest, until the day he saw Evelyn for the first time. Percy knew her since they were children, but the day he first really saw her was one he would never forget. It was the day the wind returned to Willow Falls and stirred up memories and brought to the surface unwanted emotions. It was a storm unlike any that had been seen in recent history. Percy didn't know it was Evelyn's 13th birthday at the time, or that this storm was just like the one that raged the day she was born.

The day the wind returned had been pleasant enough, but as dusk had begun to settle things changed. Night was fast approaching as the wind chimes on front porches began to ring and rattle. The skies opened and the storm touched every blade of grass within 3 miles of the General Store. Everyone ran for cover, except for Evelyn. She was drenched, her cotton dress clinging to her in ways Percy only imagined a cotton dress could cling to a young body. She was fearless, running through the storm, laughing as he sat quietly on the porch of the store. She noticed him there, looked toward him and stopped running. She just looked at him, or rather, stared, as the rain poured down on her and the wind threatened to knock her over. Her black hair seemed to be a wild river spread across half her face and back. Her eyes were ablaze and it almost frightened him, but he could not look away. Then she burst out in laughter, and turned away as if she hadn't seen him at all, as if she hadn't just stopped and looked right through him. That was the day Percy decided that if he could have only one thing in the world, it would be Evelyn, and he would sell his soul to have her.

Snipet #10

Evelyn grew up quickly, or so it seemed to her mother. One day she was toddling about the house, knocking things over and the next, she was a young lady. Through those years, Sara had marveled at how calm the weather had been, how peaceful it was. But nothing lasts forever, and it was on Evelyn's 13th birthday that the wind returned with a vengeance.

The day had started out like most other Saturdays, with chores to do around the house. Evelyn and her mother always spent their Saturday mornings doing laundry and cleaning those things that had been neglected for a week.

Evelyn loved to tidy up her room. She would dust the furniture, search through her jewelry box, alphabetize the books on her shelf, and then take them down again and sort them by author and then go back and alphabetize again . It seemed to her she was putting her life in order by putting things in order. Evelyn liked it that way in her room because it gave her the feeling of warmth and safety. Touching all these beloved things also gave her a sense of connection with the past, with her ancestors whose belongings were bestowed on her by her mother. She had her grandmothers radio, her great aunt's attempt at a self portrait and her mother's ruby ring. It didn't matter to Evelyn that the radio hadn't worked in years or the self portrait was poorly executed or that the ring needed cleaning. These were her precious things. They were her reminders of a time she couldn't possibly remember but of which she felt an intense connection. That was one of the things about Evelyn that made people uncomfortable. She seemed to be part of another time and she just didn't quite fit in. She seemed to walk on the fringes of reality, touching both sides of things and feeling equally at home in both.

She was all light and energy. She was full of abundant magic. She was a force of nature that the inhabitants of Willow Falls had never experienced. Even the wind could not compare.

Perspective

I made a long overdue phone call to a friend who is recuperating from extensive back surgery today, and I must say that I feel like crying. I am writing this now to try to get it out of me in a productive way.

She's young, she has two beautiful daughters and a loving husband. She's well educated and liked by everyone who knows her. She has had a few setbacks in her life, as we all have, but this is taking its toll on her. She had a tumor growing on her spine, thankfully benign, however, the surgery was so extensive, the recuperation time is considerable. She's an active woman, as most moms are, and I think that the sitting around all day is just as difficult for her to handle as is the physical pain. I feel for her, as I sit here now, surrounded by co-workers and telephones ringing and work to do. I have purpose here, although I sometimes get angry when I'm here because I'd rather be anywhere else. She's lost her purpose, really. She has always been a dedicated employee, working well beyond what was expected of her and now she sits, and waits and prays. She's scared, and who can blame her. She's probably angry too, and I also can't blame her for feeling that way. That's really why I called her....to break up her day, to give her someone to talk to if she needed to. But now I feel her around me, I feel her pain and isolation. I feel her fear, and I'm distracted by it.

I wish there were something I could do to alleviate her pain, but obviously, I'm not capable of doing that. I wish I could give her hope. I wish I could help her see the end of this difficult journey. I wish she were making plans to cook a Thanksgiving dinner.

I'm putting this in perspective here....I am apprehensive about cooking a dinner for my family, but truthfully, I think it's great that I have the opportunity to be doing that. It's a privilege really, and I know that. All she wants is to play with her daughter, and she can't walk around without assistance. I do my best not to moan about my aches and pains, and thinking of this woman, I try even harder, as she knows REAL pain. We all have our turn suffering. We all have our cross to carry, but right now, her cross is heavier than mine and my heart goes out to her. When I think to myself that I wish there were something I can do, well, I think there is. I can call her and remind her we're thinking of her. I can pray for her, that she finds peace. There is something I can do. There usually is.

When I pray tonight I will add a prayer for my friend that she finds hope and holds on to it.

Hope is all we have, really.

Snipet #9

No one other than her mother gave much thought to Evelyn as she grew. She was just another fixture in the landscape of Willow Falls. Not that people didn't notice her unique ways, but as was tradition, they found a way to ignore it and more importantly, to ignore her. As they turned a blind eye to their unhappiness, they ignored the way she seemed to be able to talk to animals. Just as they forgot their dreams, they didn't give a second thought when they saw her out in a rain storm, laughing and dancing. As they disregarded their own pain, they never gave a thought to hers. They cleaned, built, repaired, taught, and doctored as their respective jobs dictated, but they rarely felt anything at all. On rare occasions the wind blew through the sleepy town, and forced the inhabitants of Willow Falls into a state of semi-wakefulness, but these times were few and far between. The wind rarely demonstrated it's full power since the day of Evelyn's birth. A light breeze here, a mild spring zephyr there, but nothing profound and life changing. But with or without the wind, a change was coming.

When Evelyn was around, the wind was always there, just under the surface. Looking into her eyes forced you to pay attention. That was why she had no friends, no one spoke to her except when they had to, and no one could tell you what color her eyes were, since they never dared to look there. If they did, they would be forced to see themselves, and that was something none of them were willing to do.

Snipet #8

Evelyn woke Sara most nights at 1:00 and 4:00 a.m. for feedings. It was this time that Sara loved the most. She thought of it as her special time, and while many mothers may have balked at having to wake up twice a night to feed a hungry baby, Sara found the time to be peaceful and calming. The world was quiet, the only sounds were the crickets and an occasional train off in the distance. She would take Evelyn to the rocking chair near her bedroom window and while she fed her, she would dream about Evelyn's future.

She pictured her as a toddler, racing about the house knocking things over. She imagined her as a young girl, picking wildflowers in the meadow beside the house. She saw her as a teenager, struggling to find herself, fumbling along with new experiences. She imagined all the possibilities during these late night feedings and even ran through imaginary conversations they might have one day, the confidences they might share, even the arguments that might occur. These late night rambles through what might be were what sustained the tired mother through the first months of her baby's life.

One thing that Sara never imagined during all these quiet moments was that the wind might return. It was as if she had forgotten the wind existed. It was as if her man had never been. It appeared that the wind that came the night of Evelyn's birth had taken Sara's memory with it as it swept out of town, leaving Evelyn in it's place. A strange happening, one might think, but for the residents of Willow Falls, loss of memory was a natural event that had nothing to do with old age. Loss of memory could happen to anyone there, at any time. Forgetting unpleasantries was a way of life there, a skill passed down from mother to daughter and father to son.

Although Sara lived on the fringe of Willow Falls society, she still learned their ways and practiced the fine art of hiding from the truth they had come to be known for. She had honed her skills so well she didn't even realize that she had never even been accepted into Willow Falls society, and neither had any of her ancestors. Yes, they had lived there since time began it seemed, but they were always outsiders to the other townspeople. They were different, of that there was no doubt, and it was this knowledge the people of the town had of the Martins' uniqueness that set them somewhat apart. Sara's ancestors had gone to great lengths to hide this truth from themselves, but the tide was about to turn. Evelyn had a sense of self awareness that was stronger than any tradition, more firmly rooted in her than any other aspect of her being. It was the wind that she arrived on that had made her this way. She had slipped into the world by hanging on to the tail of the wind, much like her ancestral home had done many years before, and just as the home had a solid foundation, so did she.

Evelyn wasn't like the other children. She had the Wolf in her veins.

Domenico's

There doesn't seem to be any greater gift that we can give than to embrace our dreams and share them with the world!

It takes a rare person to be able to envision something and make it happen. It is one such person I am speaking of now. He is a man who has changed the face of a neighborhood and thereby changed the lives of all those around him. His name is Orin Domenico, and his dream has become a haven for so many South Utica residents.

I would imagine that the day Orin decided to open Cafe Domenico was much like any other day, except that it was electrically charged and full of hope and excitement. I'm sure it was a process, not just a moment's fancy, but a long time coming and once he decided on his course of action, he made it happen. That's where he stands out in my mind. He continued on, where other people just stop without having the courage to take action.

He transformed a small corner of the world into a funky, eclectic place for all sorts of people from all walks of life to come and hang out. He had a vision, he believed in it, and so, we find, do we. It was his bravery that changed the landscape of an area of a sleepy city that needed a jolt. He may not see himself as brave, but I do, and I know others who share my feelings. He may see it as a simple act, just a man deciding to open a business, but Cafe Domenico is more than a business. It goes well beyond that.

It is place where I feel at home, and I have made friends there that I would never have made otherwise. My children have found this place to be a safe haven as well. My daughter spent many weekends being spoiled by her favorite baristas over the years. She grew up surrounded by smooth jazz and friendly conversations. She has found true friendship there. What more can a parent ask for?

I told Orin one day how I felt about his dream, and how it changed the lives of so many people and he actually seemed taken aback to hear me say it. I don't think he imagined himself a hero of sorts, but truly, to me, he is. He took a chance, believed in himself and built a place so many of us love. He has succeeded in changing the world and making it a better place than it was before he came by, and that's what it's all about. That's why we're here on his earth.

Thank you Orin, for believing in yourself.... for taking a chance. Your dream has changed my life, the lives of my children and countless others. You are an inspiration to all of us, and we appreciate your friendship and your coffee....it's the best, and so are you!

I love Cafe Domenico, the place where everybody knows my name!

Snipet #7

When Mrs. Putnam arrived to check on Sara the next day, she found both mother and daughter sleeping soundly. She set to making tea and sandwiches and then gently lifted the baby from Sara's arms to check her. She washed the baby, counted her digits and eleven fingers and ten toes later, she placed Evelyn in the sunny yellow room in her bassinet. Such a lovely baby, thought Mrs. Putnam. It's a shame about those fingers, though. I wonder if Sara noticed yet, she pondered.

Mrs. Putnam was slightly concerned about the sixth finger on Evelyn's right hand, but after giving it some thought, figured if it was good enough for Ann Boleyn, then it was good enough for Evelyn Martin. But then again, she reflected, look where Ann ended up. But such thoughts were dreary, and Mrs. Putnam was not one to dwell on unpleasantries for too long. She was after all, a resident of Willow Falls and very adept at looking straight ahead and not paying too close attention to all the activity going on in her peripheral vision.

She woke Sara gently and offered her some tea. She asked Sara if she was hungry, but Sara shrugged off the question and got out of bed. She went directly into the sunny yellow bedroom and stood beside her daughter's bassinet. Evelyn had beautiful black hair and soft pink skin. She wondered what color Evelyn's eyes were, since she saw her late at night and couldn't be sure. She assumed they would be blue, since most newborns had blue eyes. She stood waiting and Mrs. Putnam came in to stand next to her. Such a beautiful, sweet baby, she said to Sara. Sara agreed, as mothers will do. All mothers believe their baby to be the finest baby ever born, and Sara was no exception.

As Evelyn began to stretch and make the most delightful baby sounds, her eyes blinked and both Mrs. Putnam and Sara leaned forward to catch a glimpse. Her eyes, to their surprise, were green. Mrs. Putnam gasped, as she had never seen a newborn baby with green eyes, especially not this intense green, the green of an older, wiser person. Saints preserve us, she cried. In response, Sara sighed, she's perfect. Mrs. Putnam asked her if she had seen the baby's right hand. My baby has been touched by the wind, Sara replied, you didn't expect her to be like all the other babies, did you? No, Mrs. Putnam replied, she is like no other. Good, said Sara. That's good.

Snipet #6

I'm hungry....I'm hungry. The words had played over and over in Sara's mind for many months after he had left. She was devastated at first, then resigned to the fact that things just didn't turn out the way she had hoped they would. The thought of her baby buoyed her up and kept her going. He may have been hungry, and she could understand that, but she knew one thing about herself. She would never let her hunger take her over. She wouldn't let anything get in the way of her child's happiness. Not even the wind could do that.

As the Wolf raged on the night of her child's birth, and her pains grew more intense, she feared that she may not always be able to keep her child safe. How would she be able to raise her child alone? How would she keep the wind at bay? Would she be strong enough? The wind rose and fell, her pains swept over her, and she began to have doubts about her ability to handle such a daunting task, but despite her fears, she swore that she would die trying.

Evelyn was born at 3:00 a.m., in a rush of grief, joy and fluid. The wind quieted down, her sweet baby cried, and Sara was content. She sang to her baby, crooning old lullabies her mother and grandmother had sung to her. She shocked herself that she actually remembered these old songs. She felt these women close by as she cradled her daughter in her arms. She felt their loving presence and was convinced that Evelyn would be blessed by them and would grow to be as beautiful and kind as they had been.

Sara tried hard not to wonder what it might mean that her daughter was born on such a night. Evelyn was healthy, and that's all that mattered to her, but as she would soon learn, the wind doesn't howl like that for no reason. The Wolf and the moon had come together that night, and not without purpose. One thing Sara should have remembered is that there is no coincidence in this life. Everything aligns specifically for a desired end.

Snipet #5

The noises continued throughout the night as the wind howled and moaned. Sara thought that the Wolf was especially hungry this particular night and hoped he would stay far away from her front door. The strange sounds were adding to her fears and her mind began to wander to a time when she wasn't so alone in the world, but then the Wolf had taken her man away. The wind was always taking something. The hunger was a greedy glutton and he would take what he could, when the opportunity arose.

Evelyn never knew her father since the wind had taken him away long before she was born. It began a few nights after her mother had told her father about her impending arrival. Everything had seemed fine and Sara was glowing with the anticipation of motherhood. Perhaps it was the glow that had clouded her vision, for she didn't see any darkness or unhappiness coming. She saw rainbows and sunshine where ever she went. She was so busy looking inward that she failed to see the father of her baby slipping away.

The first she noticed anything peculiar was how he seemed to be unable to sleep. He would sit up in bed, as if he had heard someone call his name. He would look around, seemingly confused. He would walk over to the window and peek out the lace curtains and a frown would cross over his brow. This happened sporadically at first, then it was night after night. She finally asked him if something was wrong and he would mumble things about how quickly time flies by and how he didn't know how he had ended up where he was. She thought that was strange, as he was where he was because he was born there, his family was there, his job was there...his life. Where else should he be, she wondered.

Then came the night the wind blew in quickly, taking a few sapling trees in the back yard and sending them far away. It was that night that Evelyn's father went far away, too. He hadn't spoken much at dinner that night, saying he didn't feel well. He went to bed early. Sara followed him there just to be close to him, to feel his warmth as the wind rattled the windows. When Sara woke up in the morning, he was gone. He left a note:

It's late. I'm hungry. I have to go. Forgive me.

Snipet #4

The Martin family of Briar Lane didn't always buy into Willow Falls philosophy. They had always been part of the town, since it had been established at least 150 years before, but they had always had their own way of doing things. Unfortunately, over time, they had forgotten that they were independent women, they had forgotten the magic, and had adopted the ways and common thoughts of the town folk. It was easier than being different. The wind didn't howl quite so loudly outside your windows at night when you were just like everyone else. But, easier isn't always better, and sometimes feeling the hunger is better than feeling nothing at all.

The day that Evelyn was born, as the wind raged outside, Sara Martin did her best to be brave. Although she had forgotten the magic of her mother and grand mother, she lit candles to brighten her bedroom and whispered long forgotten prayers out of fear more than devotion. She had many of her ancestors belongings around her, and that made her feel safer, as if she were still being watched over by them. As the wind rose and the linden tree branches tapped against her windows, her pains rose and fell like the tide. The moon was full that night, which would have been considered auspicious, but as she had forgotten the magic, it meant nothing more to Sara than a little more light shining in her dark little house.

Her labor was fierce and she was frightened, but she couldn't risk trying to go out in the storm to find Mrs. Putnam's house. The elderly woman had delivered many of the Willow Falls residents over the years and was someone Sara trusted with her life. But this time, she was on her own, as the nearest neighbors house couldn't be seen as she looked out of her kitchen window. It was just too dangerous, so Sara decided she could handle things on her own. Women had babies all the time, she reasoned. This is a natural thing, she said over and over. She could handle it. She was a Martin. There was nothing to fear. She heard noises, things being tossed around outside, the house creaked in its foundation, sounding like footsteps just outside her bedroom door.

It's just the wind, she told herself. It's just the wind.

Snipet #3

Evelyn was born on a day when the wind howled through the valley and threatened to take more than it's fair share. The sun peeped out briefly that morning and her mother, Sara, was deceived into thinking that that Monday would be like any other. The sun would come out, she would rush to get some laundry hung, she might sit on the porch and relax for a bit, daydreaming about her baby that was due to come soon. She would do what all mothers do during that nesting time. She would prepare and dream of the future. She would scrub and clean and sing songs to her baby. She would have hope for anything was possible. The wind might come, for all the spells and incantations in the world couldn't keep the wind at bay, but they would be safe. She and her baby would thrive in their home, clean and snug and warm.

Sara had lived in her little house on Briar Lane since she was a baby. As a matter of fact, she had been born there, in the sunny bedroom with the yellow walls. The room that was now going to be the nursery for her own child. This house was passed on to Sara by her own mother, Mae. When she would ask how old the house was, Mae would be rather vague. Our house came blowing in one day, hanging on to the tail end of the wind, her mother would tell her. She knew this couldn't be true, could it? Houses are built with nails and wood, by hard working men with callouses on their hands, men who dreamed of building castles but had to content themselves with bungalows and split level ranches. Houses didn't just appear, riding the wind like a bird. Sara gave this some thought over the years, and she decided she didn't have any idea what was true regarding her house. The wind brought the hunger to Willow Falls, why not houses, why not dreams?

The wind came with a fury that day, shortly after Sara had hung out the clothes to dry. She sang as she worked, but from the corner of her eye she could see the storm clouds coming. She ignored them, thinking they might turn and go in the other direction if she behaved as if she hadn't seen them. Sometimes by hiding in plain sight, by going about your business, you could send the wind back to where it came from. There was some logic there, at least that's what the people of Willow Falls believed, and Sara was Willow Falls born and bred, through and through. So, she believed it, too.

Part Two....more snipet

The Wolf. That's what the children called the wind because that's what their parents called it. When asked by anyone why it was called The Wolf (only outsiders would dare to ask such a foolish question) they would tilt their heads a bit and ask what other name could there possibly be for such a hunger?

The people here knew hunger, if nothing else. They were experts on that. There weren't many professional, college educated people here, but there were experts on hunger in every single pew in the small white Methodist church at the corner of Main and Orchard Streets. Their eyes held it and their hands were calloused by it on a daily basis. Their children were raised on it. Most everyone carried around with them a silent, heavy burden, as if the ghost of what could have been was haunting their every waking hour. They went about their lives, as shop owners and teachers and gas station attendants, but they were weighed down by the expectation that the wind would return and jolt them from their sleepwalking state. They seemed to like sleepwalking. It rather dulled the pain of the hunger, kept them in a state of semi-awareness that was less difficult to deal with. But, when the wind came, there was no hiding from it. It woke you up and forced you to feel, pushed you hard against the wall and brought you back. The wind forced you to deal with the hunger, because the wind was hunger itself, and only the strongest in the sleepy town of Willow Falls would even try to resist.

The people of Willow Falls were forced to wake up that day the wind came, and for one resident in particular, it meant that change was coming to call once more.

Just a weird little snipet....

Not sure what this is...what it will amount to....it just came out of me. Maybe it's the start of a book? Not sure.....

The wind returned that night. No one saw it coming this time. Windows were left open. Patio umbrellas were caught quickly and smashed to the ground with such force, most didn't survive to see another summer picnic. Pots full of tomato plants and basil were overturned. Toys were sent in all directions, ending up in neighbors yards, hopefully to be recovered by greedy little hands later on, once the wind died down.

The wind always returned. It was just that way. Sunshine didn't last long here. When it came it must have felt like it were stealing a little something because it came and went like a thief. During any one day, a person could change their clothes several times, to suit the weather. You could wake up early, it would be cool enough for a jacket. Some hours later, the humidity would threaten to melt you in your tracks. A few hours after that, rain would come and spoil any outdoor plans, and then, there was always the threat of the wind. The wind had a life of it's own. It followed no rules. It took what it wanted, left what it didn't care for. You would pray it didn't notice you as you huddled for shelter. If it saw you, it might become hungry. If the wind could be called anything, it would be hungry. Some people here called it The Wolf.

Once Upon a Time

Once upon a time, there was a little girl with bright eyes and thick, dark hair. She was born in a land far, far away, yet had been brought here, to this place of grief and joy, snow and sorrow. She arrived on a ship made of clouds and star shine one day in May. If anyone asked her if she remembered this other place, she would automatically say no, and then wonder quietly to herself how they knew she wasn't from their world. Did she seem that different to everyone around her? Had she not spent so much time there, so as to become indistinguishable from everyone else? She began to think not.

The people who raised her were considered her parents in every way. She rarely questioned her position in their family. It just was what it was. Her father had a warm scent, and she liked to hold his hand and put it to her nose and inhale deeply. Her mother was loving, sweet and kind, as all mothers should be. She smelled of tomato sauce and fried dough and was always singing or whistling as she worked. These details, though small, helped to make the girl feel safe, even when the warm scent of her father grew angry and felt like it would burn her skin. She grew up as most little girls did in those days, spending lazy summer days reading on an old blanket in the yard, playing hide and seek with those who dared to be her friend. She was quiet, and apprehensive around strangers, afraid of her own shadow and the demons that could lurk there. She knew there were demons in the world, and some of them lived in her house with her. She knew about angels and victims too, as they lived there also. Sometimes she felt she would be safer living at the zoo in the lion cage, other times she liked her unpredictable life. It was rather like being on a roller coaster. She never thought that's probably why she never liked carnival rides. Just looking at them made her stomach turn. It's funny she never made the connection, since she was a fairly bright girl.

When she finally made a real friend, the friend of a lifetime, she was never so grateful for anything. She had a few friends that lived near her house, but she was friends with them because of proximity, not because they were her soul mates.

When she first saw this girl from another land, she was mystified. This girl looked like no one she had ever seen. The girl had dark eyes like the night, and hair rich and thick as pitch. She didn't speak the language of the world the little girl lived in, but she wanted to be near this girl. She just knew they would understand each other. Here was someone from somewhere else...someone who might recognize her for who she really was and not shrink away in fear. Here was someone who looked as scared as she felt. This new girl might even be from the land far, far away and then she could tell the little girl about the place she was ripped away from. This girl smelled like exotic spices and food she had no names for. This girl looked like the answer to her prayers.

It turned out that these two girls fit together well, completed each other in a way. They learned from each other, one learning a new language and the ways of a foreign place and the other learning about trust, and love and friendship. They both needed each other, for different reasons, yet need is need and it can be something that lights a spark that kindles a friendship of a lifetime.

The new girl listened intently as the little girl told her stories of horses and ice skating, fairy tales she pretended were true. She lived in a place filled with fear and anxiety, and preferred to dwell in her fantasy world much of the time. Eventually, once she began to trust and feel safer, she left her fantasy life behind. No more lies, no more pet horses that didn't exist. She preferred reality, because her new friend lived there. It was a brighter place now, the world she lived in and she wasn't alone anymore. This new friend from a new place had saved her life.

They grew up eventually, as little girls are wont to do. There is nothing for it. Life goes on, high school, college, marriage...all these things happened to the two girls who didn't always live near each other. Sometimes they didn't speak for long stretches of time, but it never failed, when they heard each other's voices, the time between meetings was diminished and they picked right up where they left off. Their friendship was easy, and reassuring. It was one of the things in the world they could count on, despite the demons, angels and victims they might encounter in their everyday lives. Shadows didn't seem quite as frightening when they were together. The land far, far away didn't matter as much either. It was nice to have someone to be scared with....someone who didn't judge you for your humanity....someone who loved you anyways.

The little girl hoped that someday, she would tell her friend how grateful she was for her simple gift. Sometimes when we reach out in need, a hand is there, and it desires us as much as we do them.

Blessings come to us when we least expect it.

Thank you, my friend, she would say....I knew you the moment I saw you...I knew you would change my life. I still remember that moment....the look on your face, the light as it hit the blackboard in the little classroom. I remember it all, and I love you....just the way you are.

Thank you.......

Ponderings

Taking a moment today to just wonder......

I'm wondering how long it takes for a twist tie to disintegrate in a landfill.

I'm wondering how many licks it REALLY takes to get to the center of a Tootsie Pop.

I'm wondering how long you can keep potatoes out in the summer before that funky smell fills your kitchen.

I'm wondering how much it costs to make a toothpick.

I'm wondering why clothing styles come in and out of fashion. Why can't we come up with anything REALLY new?

I'm wondering if we really are a speck, just like in Horton Hears a Who. What if we're being carried around by a giant elephant?

I guess I'm just wondering silly, pointless things today. But, thinking is good. It keeps the brain cells young. I'm just being ridiculous today, but truthfully, of all the questions I ask here, the speck one is my favorite. I wonder if God holds us, like Horton, carefully placing us down at night so we don't bang into anything and get jostled around. I like to think that we really are carried around in the Creator's hand. I can't imagine creating something so incredible and not hanging around to watch it, to embrace it, to ponder it.

This isn't something you make and walk away from. This is grand in its design, a monumental achievement in architecture. The intricate way it all fits together, the seasons, the ebb and flow of the tide...it's just too perfect to be a mistake.

We are loved, and of that I have no doubt. You can't see the fall splendor and not feel as if you are a witness to the divine. No, we are not even a witness to it, we are a PART of it. The Creator is in us all.

I feel that everyday, and I hope that you do, too.

August Nights

On an August night, many years ago, she received her first kiss. It was a hot night, the air was virtually electric around her. Excitement coursed through her veins. There seemed to be very little fear although this was all new to her. To think that someone like him would be interested in her, a mousy, 13 year old girl with skinned knees and no fashion sense. It made her giddy and light headed. What did he see in her? Why did he have that look of longing in his eyes? He must see something in her...there must be something beautiful, something worthy there.

They met by the fence gate. His gaze melted her, from the inside out. She felt beautiful, small, fragile and powerful all at once. This was sweet, and it tasted like honey.

Thirty some odd years have passed, and he is not the same person he was on that night, and neither is she. In the grand scheme of things, he was her first kiss, which of course woke her up to the joys of electricity, but that's what it was, one of many firsts she would experience. She has grown up and has children and a family of her own, and so does he. They are not discontented, they have grown and moved on. But, despite their changing, they will always exist somewhere, somehow as they did that night by the fence, two young people grasping at life, holding on to something precious. A first is, if anything, a precious thing.

If all nights could be August nights......invigorating, electric and new.

Why can't August last forever? Why must we grow old?

Our Safe Place

I gave one of my blogs some thought last night as I was tucking myself into bed. I wrote about my daughter's safe place....our home as a child and how secure we can feel when we are there and when we have memories of it. I have to say that although this time is my daughter's...that while the home I have made for her is HER safe place, I realized that it is MY safe place too.

When the world seems like too much and the news is full of sad stories of suffering, war and heartache, I curl up in my daughter's room, wrap us both up in a warm blanket and tell magical stories of unicorns, puppies, snails and squirrels...and the whole world seems to slip away and it's just us and nothing can touch us there. Well, at least that's how it feels. I got thinking how it was her safe place, but really, it is OURS, together, and I have no illusions about how fleeting these moments will be and how quickly time will change our landscape and it won't be recognizable to me as she gets older. But, this safe place is ours, now, and I am just trying to enjoy it for what it is, when it is. I hope I won't be too sad when her room changes, as she grows taller and away from us, but I know I will be, at least sometimes.

I hope I will be brave enough to let her do what she needs to do. I think that's one of the most important things as parents that we have to do for our children....there comes a day when we have to let go. I hope that I am brave.

I want to be brave. Maybe that's half the battle.

Love is Simple

Sitting by the pond on a brisk, sunny afternoon in October, she said, "Have I changed your life? I don't mean that you live in a nicer place because of me, or you eat better food...I mean..." She paused....he looked at her and said, "I know what you mean, yes, you have changed my life. You are my life. I am a better person because of you." She reached out to him, and returned those same words to him, for they were welling up inside. They held each other and watched the autumn wind blow through the red, yellow and orange leaves. They stood there together and defied the winds and rain and storms that lay just beyond the blue skies of that beautiful day.

They had helped each other to become better people because of their love and acceptance. Love is simple. It uplifts, it restores and it calms.

Love is simple. If it's not...then it's not love. Don't let anyone tell you otherwise.

Nostalgia

I was struck last evening by a moment of nostalgia and memory and it was prompted by such a simple act.

I was sitting on my daughters bed, waiting for her to finish coloring a picture she had been working on. We were getting ready to read a story from a book she brought home from school. I was sitting there with her stuffed fox toy, pretending to read to it. After the story was done, she got up, took the fox and wrapped him in her favorite blanket and told him to stay warm while he waited for her to finish her picture. It was a simple gesture on her part...a loving gesture, really. It told me one thing...that she will nurture when she gets older....that she will care about the comfort of others and seek to make others happy. That certainly made me smile. But that's not all that moment did for me.

I watched her cross her room with the ease and carefree nature only the young can experience. She felt safe. She was in her personal zone, her safe place, her home. You could see she was comfortable and that she believed, even for that one moment, that all was right with the world, and it felt good.

I recall feeling that as a child...that my room was my safe place where the world couldn't touch me. My room as it was no longer exists in the physical world, yet, in some strange way, it still exists in my mind and I feel like on some level, it's still there, and always will be.

That thought brought waves of nostalgia rolling over me, and as quickly as it came, it was gone. I felt the past for that brief moment and could swear I could hear my mother puttering around in the kitchen and hear the television in the living room....and my father's smokers cough, too. It was a strange moment, but blissful and beautiful as well. Most people have a mixed bag kind of childhood...good and bad moments squeezed together in a tight little ball, and we had our share of questionable moments back then, but oh, there is something about the past, the time we spend being taken care of, that makes us feel peaceful, no matter how difficult those times could really be.

I could smell the dinner cooking, hear it sizzling on the stove....hear the canned laughter coming from the wooden console television, (is he watching I Love Lucy again?!) and for a moment I was back. Just a moment...but when you get to be my age, a moment is just enough.

I recommend nostalgic moments for everyone to experience at least twice a month...it gets you thinking, and lets face it, thinking is what makes us human and keeps the mind fresh...so get out there and stir up some happy memories....or make some to enjoy later.

Just don't let me catch you sitting around and wasting time...whatever you do....just DO IT!

Outlive Your Life

I heard today about a concept called "Outlive Your Life." I didn't hear the whole commercial or advertisement or whatever it was, but it got me thinking.

I think that's what we should all strive for.....to outlive ourselves....to leave a legacy behind. There are times I know we have all wondered exactly what our purpose is, how we (our little insignificant selves) can make a big difference and change the world. We may feel insignificant, however, we are nothing close to that. Not even a grain of sand is insignificant. Everything has a purpose, so how can we feel any different about ourselves? This thought rather hearkens back to my previous blog regarding doing something great and how great things are really available to us everyday. I tend to go on rants in themes for a while....hope you don't mind!

How do we find our purpose? Well, I think that we shouldn't have to look far and we shouldn't waste time waiting for a revelation from above. I think we should just take action, grab a cause and just do it. From there, doors will open, things will be revealed and your purpose will become clear. No one is insignificant, no action goes unnoticed in the grand scheme of things. All kindness is worth the effort, no matter now minor it may seem to you at the time. Take a step. Make a purpose....don't wait for one to drop from the sky and hit you in the head.

Make it happen. Outlive your life. Leave a legacy of love and caring and friendship, and you live forever.

A Gift

Everyday is a gift. Don't mistake it for anything else. It's a gift. No one owes it to you. It doesn't have to be perfect. It doesn't have to be sunny out or smell good. It's just a gift, and you should do your very best with it, everytime you get one. Every morning, thank whatever diety you subscribe to for this new chance to do something great. Then get out there and do something great. (Great things include: making a friend laugh, smiling at a stranger, telling someone you love their new hairstyle, asking someone if they feel better after being sick, petting a dog, feeding the birds) Great does not have to be climbing Mount Olympis. Great is simpler than that. Great can be an everyday thing, and if it's not, make it so.

You are great. You are worthy of experiencing everyday to the fullest extent you can, and if that means coughing, sneezing, blowing your nose and smiling at the mailman as he hands you your mail, then that's it. Make it the most sincere smile you can, get back to bed and take all your meds! Sometimes great is hiding behind a sick day. Sometimes great is right under our noses and we just can't see it because we're looking right over it.

You don't have to be the President of the United States to change the world. Just be you. You were made especially for this purpose. You have all you need. Stop waiting for greatness to knock on your door. Stop thinking greatness is for everyone else but you. You are GREAT. Get out there and make your mark. Wasting time is not an option.

Everyday is a gift. It's just that simple.

Sad

I saw on the news this morning that the Hezbollah have made a "theme park" in Lebanon celebrating their fight against Israel......really? Are these people NUTS?

They showed little children with their parents looking at displays of bombed out buildings, crashed tanks and rubble...and these people were excited! They even had a gift shop where you could buy hats and t-shirts so you could remember your trip to their version of Happyland forever!

My face dropped.

It made me sad. I couldn't even be angry. I was just sad.

Being Sick

Let me just say that being home sick SUCKS! I suppose it's nice to have a few days off from work, but really, who wouldn't rather be at work than sitting on the couch coughing up a lung? I know that I would have, but what was nice was that I got to watch a few movies that I normally wouldn't have watched in the presence of a 6 year old. Am I counting some blessings here...maybe so, but I like to try to look on the bright side.

What sucks the most is I missed my COFFEE! For some reason when I don't feel well, coffee doesn't set right with me, and I resort to herbal tea concoctions. I guess it's healthy and all, but I really missed my coffee...and my coffee companions. Life at the coffee shop has a pulse and beat all it's own, and I find it soothing and I enjoy it so much. The place has a heart, and it's always a bit different, depending on the time of day and the company around you, but the place is alive, I know that, and I feel it every time I walk through the door. I find myself wanting to be there, and these past few lung wrenching days have been no different. I felt not only sick, but lost in a sense because my routine was smashed to pieces AND I missed that place that grounds me. Maybe if I try a cup of coffee at lunch today, I will instantaneously feel better and I shall be CURED! (or....maybe not....)

When I'm home sick, not only do I miss my routine, my work (GO FIGURE!) and my Cafe, but I also go through that little spurt of melancholy, depending on how sick I feel. I get nostalgic for the past. I get thinking about how it must feel for people who can't leave their house because they are bedridden, or people who are sick all the time with lingering illnesses, how sad their lives must be. I realize how life spins on a dime and things can change in a heartbeat, and that scares me. I wish that a simple cold wouldn't send me into that sort of mindset, but again, sometimes it does, and all I want at that point is to feel better, to be back to myself again because somewhere between Ahhh and Choo, I lost the me that feels comfortable in her life.

I lose Me when I'm sick and that's what SUCKS the most!

I am hoping that I find Me soon and that my lungs magically put themselves back together and my watery eyes and runny nose run along and find someone else to abuse.

Family

The question was raised today....what defines a family? Is it a mom, dad and 2.5 kids?

I believe that my having been adopted changes my view of what family is. Did I not mention this fact before? Sorry. Yes, I was adopted as an infant back in 1964. I was born in May and was delivered into the arms of my mother in October of that year. I am not sure where I was during those few months between birth and adoption, but I know that they were not pleasant months for me. How do I know this? I just do. My mother tells me when they picked me up I was very tense, only going with certain people, my little fists clenched and tight. I wouldn't drink milk or take a bottle even with juice in it. Strange behavior for a baby of 5 months, I'd say. But whatever happened during that time, no matter who I lived with, I survived and that's really what matters, I suppose.

So, back to that itchy question...what defines a family? In my opinion, family can be of our own creation. We can let in anyone we choose. I have been blessed with two beautiful children. My son was born to me during my younger years, when life was confusing and I wasn't comfortable with who I was. He grounded me, gave me purpose and defined me more easily and clearly than any other human being ever had. He loved me unconditionally, and that was what I had been yearning for my whole life. My daughter, spunky little firecracker that she is, was born to me in my 39th year of my life, which is a time when most people are thinking of shutting that sort of thing down. I said to hell with that and cranked up the furnace and started up again with no restraints. (well, plenty of fear, but no restraint) The day she was born empowered me and made me feel glorious. I realized a moment in time that many other women would never experience. I realized that I was still young inside myself, still capable and powerful. My son made me a mother, my daughter made me a goddess!

When my son was younger, we were alone for a while, our immediate family consisting of just the two of us and our six birds. It was fine by me, and I like to think that in the long run he was ok with it too, but he asked me once when he was around six years old why our family was the way it was. He had compared our family to others and found it lacking somehow and I felt bad at first and probably sounded defensive when he asked me that. It was so long ago, I don't recall my exact answer, but I know that I told him that families are what we make of them, that we can include people like our best friends who are like brothers or sisters to us. I told him that my friend Tracey was like a sister to me and that I think of her that way despite the lack of bloodline attaching us in the traditional way. She is my sister in my heart, and that's where it really matters. I think he understood that. I know I told him I was adopted and for a while he kept telling me that my mother wasn't really my mother and I had to keep telling him that there was more to being a mother than carrying a baby for 9 months in your "tummy." I have yet to explain the adoption thing to my daughter, as it hasn't come up, but I know I will and hopefully I will be able to explain it to her and make her comfortable with it. My being adopted does touch other lives, not just my own, and sometimes I forget that. Just as I don't know my birth mother, my children don't know their aunt or uncle or grandparents, but, that's just the way it is and we are fortunate to have the family that we do. My mother is a beautiful woman and I don't feel like I'm missing out on anything. My family IS my family, for better or worse. They took care of me when my biological family couldn't or wouldn't, and I don't consider that a small thing. I hope my children don't either.

So, what is family? Family is that safe place we go to when we are tired, when we are sick or alone. It is the people we love the most, be they blood relative or not. I have sisters, brothers, mothers and more children than anyone else I know and I believe it is because of my adoption that I am able to embrace this concept of an extended family more easily than most.

I love them all, and I hope that I am successful in making sure they all know that......everyday.

xoxoxoxo