Wordless Wednesday

Patiently waiting for...

The wisdom of a child

When I was a child, summer vacation seemed to last forever. We packed so much fun into each day ~ from the minute we hopped out of bed in the early morning until the moon came up and we ran around playing flashlight tag. But it just wasn't the summer time which seemed timeless. All of the seasons, all of the months, all of the days seemed to be endless. There was never any concern about running out of time. We just played until we collapsed. So many hours of tag, kickball, hide and seek, jump roping and bike riding. No need for planners or to do lists or even a watch. We just lived for each moment. We focused on the 'here and now' instead of getting lost in the past or wishing for the future.

We just lived for each moment. We focused on the 'here and now' instead of getting lost in the past or wishing for the future. 

Oh. My. Goodness.

 When I was seven years old I had a clearer understanding of how to be mindful of moments, on the importance of enjoying each day and on making the most of my time. Today at the age of fifty-three I have to work hard to accomplish these goals. I need constant reminders to stop and smell the roses. I get caught up in my past and worry to much about the future. I have difficulty appreciating the small 'things' in life. Those small 'things' really are the big things. Stress levels are high and lists are long as I try to do it all. The sad fact is that I often end up accomplishing very little since it can be difficult to focus on the here and now.

So through the writing of the post I have avoided long expensive hours on the couch of a therapist. I know what I need to do in order to live my life with purpose and intention. I will start appreciating and celebrating the small stuff. Being mindful of moments will be more than just words ~ I will walk the walk ! I will allow the inner child within to come out on a regular basis so I will be reminded of what is truly impotant. Time will not be my master anymore. A seven year old with a pixie haircut, skinny legs and crooked teeth will gently remind me to have fun because time is running out.

Just one more time...

The flight from San Jose to Las Vegas was nondescript. Typical flight attendant speech during take-off, same small bag of dry crackers, and the dull murmur of voices mixed with the occasional hacking cough from the man sitting two rows in front of me. The sky was cloudy gray and offered little distraction for me. I thought about ordering a Bloody Mary to help me relax but decided that I needed to be clear headed to face what lie ahead. I read the same page in my book multiple times before I finally gave up. I tried a few deep breathing exercises but it felt like I was going to suffocate. Napping was out of the question. Couldn't this pilot fly this thing any faster ? Did he not realize that I was in a hurry ?  The question my kids had asked me a thousand times kept running through my head ~ "are we there yet?"

And finally we landed. It was one of those bumpy, hang onto the seat in front of you while saying a little prayer, landings. Of course I was seated way back in the plane. I impatiently waited for the gazillion people in front of me to get their belongings. Jeez, this must be national slow motion day and nobody told me. Do these people not know that I have a situation and I need to get off this  piece of metal immediately? PRONTO. I turned my cell phone on. No new messages. I decided that was a good thing. No news was good news. I worked on my deep breathing exercises as I fought the urge to climb over the seats in order to get off the plane. Did the lady in 22A not understand that I was in a hurry? Obviously not as she decided to stretch her arms, readjust her panties and freshen up her lipstick in the middle of the aisle. I bit my tongue. Somebody somewhere decided this would be a good day to test my patience. Not sure I will be getting a gold star on this one.

I don't think I even responded when the flight attendant and pilot flashed their unnaturally white smiles at me as they told me to have a great day. If they only knew. Parts of that day seem like a blur while other parts will never be forgotten.

I had never been to the Las Vegas airport before so it was rather overwhelming to be greeted by rows and rows of slot machines. People stood at the machines trying one last time to hit it big. It was the perfect location to do some prime people watching if I had been in the mood, if I had nothing else on my mind, if I hadn't felt like I was going to vomit at any second.

I had a very short layover in Vegas before jumping onto the next jet for the final leg of my journey. I was headed to Florida to see my dad. One more time. Over the past few months Dad's health had been failing and I had made many trips from my home in NH down to Florida. It only takes a few hours if I get a direct flight and if the pilot puts the pedal to the metal. Hmmm...do planes have gas pedals ? I must google that at a later date.  But this trip was entirely different.

 I had been visiting my oldest daughter in sunny CA for a couple of weeks. She had recently given birth to her first child and my husband and I were meeting our granddaughter for the first time. She truly is our little sweet pea. We were spending our days cuddling, snuggling and bonding with her. But it was while I was there that I received the phone call that Dad had been moved to a hospice facility. I knew this day was coming. I had been to visit Dad two weeks earlier and it was clear that his life here on Earth was coming to an end. I told him that I loved him. He told me that he loved me. There were no deep revelations or new understanding. There were no apologies given. There were no secrets shared. There was just the love between a dad and his daughter and that was enough. So when the phone call came telling me that he was in Hospice I did lots of self talk ~ " Debbie, you are prepared for this. You knew that this day was coming. This isn't a shock. Buck up girl. Go enjoy your little sweet pea. You said your good-byes. Be strong."   I decided this might be a good time to try out some deep breathing exercises or meditation or yoga since I felt as if I was going to start vomiting violently. So I did what I do best in emergency situations...I cried. Hard. Non-stop. And in the middle of the night I knew what I had to do. I had to get to my Dad's side one more time so I could tell him that I loved him - just one more time.

I told my story to the lady at Southwest Airlines. She worked hard to get me to Tampa as quickly as possible but the reality is that CA is far away from Florida ~ over 3000 miles in fact. She booked my trip for me. I would be by my Dad's bedside in ten hours if you factor in time zone changes which always confuses me.  My next call was to my sister who was with my Dad. I asked her to hold the phone to my Dad's ear. "Dad, I'm coming. I'll be there as soon as I can. I need to see you Dad. I love you Dad."  Please don't die Dad. I'm not ready for this. I need more time.

I walked around the Las Vegas airport with all of its bells and whistles. I needed to find a quiet zone. I needed to call my sister so I could update her on my progress. I wanted her to hold the phone to Dad's ear so I could tell him that I was almost there. I needed to tell him that I loved him just one more time.

I sat down on a hard plastic seat outside of the airport bathrooms surrounded by hundreds of people. I hit the speed dial button which would connect me to my sister. She finally answered. "Deb, Dad passed away ten minutes ago."  No. She must be mistaken. I was pretty positive he was going to wait for me to get there so I could tell him just one more time that I loved him. How could it be that time had run out ?  I needed to tell him just one more time how much he had meant to me. But just like all those people standing at the slot machines, my luck had run out. I had run out of time. Again.

Stars and Stripes Forever !

Spring Cleaning 101

Once again I have allowed my blog to take a backseat to all that has been going on in my life. And that's okay. I realized that I get uncomfortable when my blog begins to take on a life of its own and starts to control me. No, no, no, dear nourish your soul blog.  I am the boss of my destiny and I will write when I feel the desire, the need, the urge.  Now don't get me wrong, dear blogging friends. I do care about what you have to say. I do love to read your words and check out your photos and find out how life is treating you. I do care. And of course, I want people to read my blog ~ after all, isn't that why we create blogs in the first place ? But my menopausal  personalities  personality has decided that it is time to get this house in order. And I mean a top to bottom, attic to basement, corner to corner, clean sweep. I mean the deep thorough cleaning which does not allow for sweeping things under the rug. And so it began... innocently enough.

I started pulling items out of the kitchen cabinets. My 11 month old granddaughter Olive actually inspired the cleaning of the kitchen cabinets since that is her favorite place to explore. She recently came across this ~

 and stared at me with bewilderment. I tried to explain to her that there is a logical reason for having a gazillion pepper shakers in the cabinet. I won't name any names but someone has a salt addiction and since I don't want the title of nagging mother-in-law I keep my mouth closed about the dangers of too much sodium in one's diet ...and now I must apologize to my mom for mocking her when I was younger for collecting dozens of empty peanut butter containers and allowing them to clutter up her cabinets. In the midst of all this cleaning I realized I had become my mother. I took a break from my cleaning so I could process this realization.

I also tackled the ever growing piles and piles and more piles of books in my house. I love to read. I love to read the old-fashioned way by holding a real book in my hands ~ no automatic high tech book machine for me ~ I love to smell the book and feel the pages between my fingers. But my book collection is a wee bit out of control so I weeded through so I could take some to our local library. These are the books I decided to give away...                                                   

   ...notice any  particular theme among them ?

I couldn't bring myself to give any of the others away. I know what you are thinking...hoarder ! No, I'm not. I just love my books. And there is a logical explanation why I have all of those pepper shakers. I took a break from my cleaning so I could read 'School of Essential Ingredients'. It is a great read for the beach or if you are trying to escape from cleaning.

I decided to tackle the pantry which can be a scary proposition since there is often a forgotten potato lurking somewhere...there are few things that smell worse than a rotten potato. I wore my protective cleaning gear to protect myself from the overgrown dust bunnies and entered with caution. I tried to organize the canned goods alphabetically but lost interest with that by the time I was up to the letter 'C'. I realized that I could probably make enough pasta to feed our entire town...does spaghetti get stale ? On the very top shelves in the pantry I found these...

                                                                                  

My husband found these in the basement of an old house he bought years ago ~ a true fixer upper. I don't know quite what to do with these gems but one thing is certain ~ I am not going to sample any of them. So back to the top of the pantry shelf they went ~ to sit until the next time I get into a cleaning frenzy.

The desk and its drawers are one of my favorite items to clean out. It is like taking a walk down memory lane...and I sit down to read old birthday cards, love letters, and pictures.  I laugh, I smile, and sometimes I even cry. This whole spring cleaning routine is exhausting...physically and mentally. I open one last drawer in the desk to find ~

and I decide that I have done enough cleaning for one year day and I sit down to color my world and nourish my soul.

Let me tell you...

about the birds...

and the bees....

and the flowers...

and the trees...

and the moon up above...

and a thing called LOVE...

Life is busy. Life is full. Life is good.

Zero Tolerance

In January, our family celebrated the birthday of my grandtwins. They turned one year old. We had balloons, cake, gifts and the house was filled with laughter and the sounds of celebration.

In January, Phoebe Prince made the decision to end her life. She was fifteen years old. Her younger sister found her hanging in the stairwell of their apartment. Phoebe was the victim of bullying at South Hadley High School in Massachusetts. Her family had moved to America in the autumn of 2009 from Ireland. Phoebe was the new kid in town. And she was not met by the Welcome Wagon.

A freshman at So. Hadley High, Phoebe probably...maybe... dreamt of attending football games, semi-formals, giggling with girlfriends, getting her driver's license, going to concerts and finding Mr. Right. I don't know for sure. I never met Phoebe Prince but I wish I had. I wish I could have put a protective cloak around her and protected her from the bullies ~ the seven girls and two boys who saw it as their right to ridicule Phoebe constantly with verbal abuse. Nonstop. Throwing cans at her as they drove by. Drawing obscene pictures of Phoebe and hanging them for all to see. Emailing her, texting her, Facebook bullying, calling her obscenities as she entered the classroom. 24-7. I have a heavy feeling in my gut as I think about how Phoebe felt every day when she entered hell school.

I have been having flashbacks to my days in junior high school. The new kid in town, I was bullied by three girls. Three mean girls.  Nancy, Valerie and Maureen verbally teased me and physically pushed me around ~ I avoided the stairwells and empty hallways. I feared being locked in a locker - yes, I was quite skinny back in those days and easily could have fit into a locker. They told me they were going to shove me in there and that no one would find me for days. Looking back, I now realize that I probably would have been found alive but at the age of 13, it was a threat that I took seriously. They pulled my hair. They elbowed me hard. I went home and cried. Mom told me to ignore them. I tried. Fortunately, after a year of this abuse, someone new moved into town and they moved onto their next victim. Phew.

So I am now obsessed with Phoebe Prince. There has been a fair amount of finger pointing as to who is at fault. The school, the bullies, the parents of the nine bullies, society at large...you and me. Have you ever looked the other way when you have witnessed a bullying situation ? Would you step in and get involved ? We must. Our society must take a stand against the bullies of the world. And I mean that wholeheartedly and sincerely.

When my husband and I were in Washington, DC recently, we stood in many lines throughout our visit. Musuem lines, restaurant lines, White House lines...but we were patient and chatted quietly while waiting our turn. One day we were in a long line while in the Smithsonian. There were fifty people behind us in line. I know because I counted them while waiting patiently. I noticed two teen-age girls quietly walking up the aisle, cutting everyone in line. I thought to myself, 'No. They wouldn't dare cut fifty people. They must know someone in line.' Well. Apparently they thought they knew me because they cut right in front of me. Out of all those people they picked the wrong lady to cut.
"Excuse me. You don't really think you are going to cut in front of me, do you?"
They turned and just glared at me.
"I am in line. I have been in line and you are not going to cut in front of all of these fifty people. The line forms at the rear, girls." I smiled, sort of.
They realized that I am teacher material. They realized that I am uncuttable.
"Oh. We didn't know there was a line." And they turned themselves around and went to the end of the line.
People around me thanked me, stating that they were glad I spoke up. They wanted to but they didn't dare. They didn't want to get involved.

Well, I am going to get involved. I am a protector of the underdog. I will take on the bullies of the world. I  want to get into my car and drive down to South Hadley and have dicussions with the nine bullies who took Phoebe's life. I wonder if they were bullied at some point in their life. I read with sadness that one of the girls wrote 'Accomplished' on their Facebook wall the day after Phoebe ended her life. I want to talk to the parents of all involved. I want to help.

This is not the world I want my grandchildren to grow up in. I want their world to be one full of love, rainbows, four leaf clovers, peace, daisies, balloons and nonstop laughter ~ a life of celebration. I will don my supergrandma cape and protect them from the bullies, remembering Phoebe Prince and the life that was stolen from her.