It's a dog's life.

I crave a life like my dog's.  He is just so chill. His world is what it is.  Snoozing in the sunny spot, sniffing for rabbits along the trail to the barn, assisting me in the kitchen as clean up crew.

He's not worried that yesterday he begged WAY too much or that tomorrow he has a vet appointment. He seems content no matter what he is doing. Sure he has his favorite things to do that make him happy and satisfied, but even so, he has has this easy-going attitude that I admire greatly.

Living in the moment. That's what it is. Finding joy in just being. Content in the now-ness. No matter how badly yesterday went or what's on my plate for tomorrow, I have decided to see every day as a treasure. Even the ones that seem somewhat mundane.
Let them ALL be dog days..


Journal Journey Day 6

Mama

I miss my Mom. 

Always. But especially on Mother's Day. And her birthday. And my birthday, and Christmas and Easter and all the other holidays. I miss her when I have my coffee in the morning, thinking back to years long past..tiny tea cups filled to the brim with warm milk and just enough coffee to make it the lightest tan. 

I miss my mom in the evening as I reach for needle and thread to replace a missing button or repair a seam. I recall my mother patiently teaching my little sister and me how to sew. My mother's hands were never still. Her needle work was a wonder to all, but especially to those of us lucky enough to wear the work of her hands, or to sleep snuggled under one of her homemade quilts.

I miss my mom in autumn, while crunching leaves beneath my feet, I gather them into piles, the fragrance of their burning filling the air. I miss watching my mom can bread and butter pickles. I miss her fresh from the oven crusty bread, eaten with huge steaming bowls of beef stew or bean soup. 

I miss my mom in winter, when I come in from hours out in the snow with frozen fingers, nose and toes and warm myself with hot cocoa and a peanut butter and jelly sandwich. I miss watching with anticipation, as she made our Christmas outfits from the most beautiful fabrics, green velvet, antique lace and satin. I miss rising in the morning to the smell of freshly baked pecan rolls that were impossible to eat without everyone ending up in sticky disarray.

I miss my mom in springtime, when the early flowers start to bloom and even though I don't have any,  I know it's time to plant the Canna bulbs. I miss watching her sew matching Easter dresses for herself, my little sister and me.

I miss my mom in summer, when I wake to the sweet scent of the lilac bush and hear a cardinal trilling among its branches. When a back door bangs, when I hang freshly washed sheets on the line, when I work in my garden, I miss her. And when look across the porch and see my jug of sun tea turning amber in the afternoon light..

I miss my Mom. 

My Heart's Song

Awareness beckons.
Calling my mind to the surface,
towards consciousness,
away from dreams of the night.

Unwaveringly, my mind sets off on a road all it's own.
I travel a well worn route, walk it daily.
Down the miles and the years to where my children dwell.
But they are children no longer, these sons of mine.
Men now, years past mothering and the need for one.

Still it is a mother's heart that beats in my chest.
A drum pounding a song to my sons grown so far from me.
An anthem that could not be stopped if I desired it so.
The lullaby they listened to under my ribs
as they lay waiting to burst forth into the world.
My heart will sing this litany
till the last beat quiets in my chest.

A canticle so familiar and true,
strummed on my heartstrings
the moment I first beheld them.
When my heart swelled beyond reason,
so full of amazement and joy
that it must surely burst.

The lyrics never change.
They are the same, enduring.
Words of love and hope.
An acclamation brimming with motherly pride..
It is an ode full of joy and anticipation,
for who they are and who they will become.

It is a quiet hymn of thankfulness.
For I am blessed to know them,
to have held them in my arms.
It is a chant to the world
that I am holding them still.
In my heart. In my mind.
In my prayers.

My song is full and pouring over,
an aria that runs in an endless river
from my heart to theirs.
I am convinced this refrain will echo
down the years.
Long after I am gone from this place.

If they listen closely,
with their hearts open wide.
I believe.
They will catch the melody
of my heart's song,

Still drifting to them on the breeze...

A sighting of the ever elusive...

It was a rare sighting. They landed in our yard just before midnight after a weekend spent on the shore of Lake Michigan. To gain strength before winging their way back to Chicago, they returned once again, to a place of known food, shelter and shower facilities. We coaxed them into staying with promises of soft beds, endless hot water and a big breakfast.

They didn't stay long, just enough time for hugs, kisses, how are you's, and here eat this. Then, born to fly, they were gone and the nest sits empty once again.

The seasons of life have changed and I watch my fledglings soar off into the unknown, with me waving a frantic good-bye. It's hard not to be melancholy, they were nurtured in this nest. But you can't hold them after they learn to fly. They will just struggle in your hand until you release them. Then with a whir and a flutter, they ascend till they are just a tiny speck in the sky.

Still, I understand the seasons, so I don't despair. Just like the robins that disappear from my yard in Autumn, only to return every spring, they'll be back...

They know the way home.

Bella Ella

A year ago my oldest son and his beautiful wife ripped my heart right out of my chest and took it with them to live in Tennessee. They stole my granddaughter, Ella. Okay, perhaps "stole" is too strong a word, she is their daughter after all, and they had an excellent reason to go. They went in search of a more peaceful way of life, and of course they took their daughter with them.

At first, I held out hope that they would come to their senses and realize they just couldn't be happy living so far away from us. While being outwardly supportive, I found myself secretly exulting with every hardship and difficulty they encountered. Aha, I would think, now they are going to realize the mistake they've made and head home. But no. They are happy and thriving in the South. My little family has been "mountain folk" for just over a year, and now a serious development is unfolding. They are buying a house. So. They are not coming back.

My son and his wife moved to Tennessee for a variety of reasons, all of them compelling. They wanted warmer weather, mountains to bike, rivers to swim, a simpler life-style close to nature. I understand completely and am overjoyed that they have found contentment with a slower paced life centered on their family, but sometimes I am so lonely for Ella I can hardly breathe.

I can't remember what I did for fun before she came along. Being with her makes me appreciate God and this wonderful world he made for us to play and live in. For such a little munchkin she certainly has taught me a lot and reminded me of things I hadn’t thought about since her daddy and uncles were little. Things like-

Being outdoors is always more fun than being inside.

Admire the sky least once a day, it's an ever changing masterpiece.

Dance barefoot in the grass.

Hugs, kisses and smiles should be given freely and often. They make both the giver and the receiver feel good.

Anything and everything can be taken to God in prayer:
"Lord, please bless these ladybugs and help them find their way out of Nonni's house, before we have to send them to Heaven through the vacuum cleaner..."

It’s nice to sit on the floor with dogs.

Smell the flowers, even the wilted ones.

Remember to kiss your pony after you ride.

Gaze around in wonder.

It’s okay to cry when you feel hurt or disappointed.

Hold your hands up in the air and feel the breeze.

Get down really close to bugs and stare hard at them.

A nap always helps when you feel cranky.

Look for fun, it's all around you.

And just like gems, you can never have too many interesting rocks.

God bless you Ella Belle, thanks for the life lessons little girl.

My new reality, Ella in my life at Christmas and summers. That's not going to be enough. It looks like I will be burning up the road between here and the Smokies on a regular basis. So Ella and I won't have the casual, see you everyday relationship that we have enjoyed. But, we'll make it work.

Our visits will be precious. Our time together condensed to it's essence, like coal compressed till it's a diamond, and for that, it will shine all the more.