Posts Tagged With: life

IWotB 2021 edition ~ day three

Today is the day!
I’ve been alive and in this world for fifty years. (well, not till 9:13 tonight, but, you know…)
I continue to waffle between something that feels like, “Wow! Fifty!” and “How is this even possible?”

I don’t know what fifty is ‘supposed’ to feel like.
Like, should I feel more ‘grown up’ than I do most days? Because there are some days I find it hard to believe I’m any sort of grown up at all. Then some days I feel one hundred and fifty, so there is that.

Our neighbors hosted an intimate gathering Saturday evening to celebrate YBW’s and my birthdays.
We shared a delicious dinner. Bubbly flowed. As did red wine. Beer made by our friend too. Later in the evening some of us sipped on some pretty rare bourbon.
It was chilly out but we sat by the fire pit and talked into the wee hours.
I can assure you I felt celebrated, y’all. I love these people and they are the sole reason I’m sad to leave this neighborhood.

One couple is already in their fifties, the other in their late thirties.
Our fifty-something friend asked me what I thought about being fifty. What had I learned? What was I anticipating? That sort of thing…

What do I think about being fifty?
First and foremost, it’s simply a number. When I say it’s a number, I mean two things: Woot! I’ve made it to fifty! and Fifty is neither old nor young, it simply is.
I’ve made fifty revolutions around the sun. I gratefully choose to celebrate this. I’ve been here ‘getting along just singing my song’ long enough to learn a thing or two about myself and my place in the world.

What do I think about being fifty?
I think I’m finally at home in my own skin.
I know I’m smarter and more capable than I was told or taught to believe.
I feel strong and confident in my skills as a human.
I am clearly aware of my worth.
I can see value in my strengths, and possibly even more importantly, in my vulnerabilities.
I am as much as, yet also more than, the sum of my parts.

What do I think about being fifty?
I’ve done the hard work of being a mother and now I get to rest on my laurels and joyfully watch my daughters navigate their own lives.
I’ve done the hard work to learn and heal from childhood wounds and now I get to apply that to my daily life.
I accept the choices I made that helped and hindered me becoming the human I am today and I am grateful for all I’ve learned.

What do I think about being fifty?
I’m at an age where I am comfortable with the number of people I choose to have in my life. Some of these people have been with me for more than thirty years, some just in the last ten. But each one is in my world because they bring something beautiful. Each one of them is a part of my heart in real and invaluable ways.
I’m content to let relationships rest. I don’t have to be in constant contact with someone to know the value and power of the relationship. Friendships that pick right up where they left off as though no time passed are sacred and precious. Love is love is love. And the strength and power of that love can survive time apart.

What do I think about being fifty?
I am looking forward to being in a new home with my precious husband! A home we built together, and for each other. The physical manifestation of how our daily life together has become just we two.
I’m eager to explore more opportunities to learn and grow as a human. As a writer. As a photographer. As a mother. As a grandmother. As a wife. As a teacher.

I look at my life on either side of this number and more than anything I feel gratitude. I feel love. I feel empowered.

I’m grateful that every decision I’ve made, good, bad, indifferent, has brought me to this point in my life. I’m grateful to have the ability to make new decisions as I move forward. I’m grateful to have just the right number, but even more importantly, just the right sort of people in my world as I continue my life journey. I’m grateful to honor from where I come as I move forward and continue becoming.

Love is the watchword. Everything I do comes from a place of love. I strive to receive everything in love. Without love I would be nothing. Love is truly the greatest gift.

Empowered. This is a word I’ve used a decent amount in my lifetime, but I’ve not always felt it. I feel it keenly now. I am empowered by the culmination of all my experience, by the enthusiasm with which I look at my future.
I know I can do what I need to do. I know I can do what I want to do.
I know I can.
I can and I will.

Fifty sounds cool.
Like, some sort of leveling up.
My sass and smarts. My joy and pain. My love and gratitude. All sort of becoming more solid somehow.
For what more could I ask on my birthday?

Categories: me | Tags: , , , , , , , , , , , , , , | 8 Comments

Birdie water is best water, or pros and cons of Baby K living at her own house

Thing 1, Husband N, and Baby K came to have dinner with us yesterday.
After hugs and kisses, the first thing that kid did was grab my water and chug it.
Apparently Birdie water is best water.

This lead to a bit of a joke that I’d make a pro and con list about Baby K living at her own house. Throughout the evening, each of the adults would randomly say “Pro” or “Con” and what began as an off the cuff remark became a reality.
Yep, I made a list.

Let me say this before I share it with y’all, my heart has disappointment that I don’t get to see my grandbaby every single day. But, there is a completely new kind of joy in seeing her.
A perfect example: last night, she and I played a game in which she ‘put me to bed’. She placed a pillow on the floor and gently pushed me and said, “Go to sleep.” When I laid my head on the pillow she squatted down and kissed me. Then I pretended to snore. My signal to wake was her tickling my foot. I giggled dramatically and sat up, saying “You tickled my foot to wake me up!”
She laughed and the game started all over again.
At one point her gentle pushes to get me to lie on the pillow became rough and then she was pushing my on my face. I told her, “I don’t like when you push so hard on my face. I will play with you, but please stop pushing me.”
She stopped and looked at me then went around me to point at the pillow and said, “Go to sleep!”
We had an accord.
A bit later I shifted the way my body was ‘sleeping’. I rolled onto my belly and bent my knees, touching my feet together then I fake snored my ass off.
Apparently me moving my body changed the game because she began walking around me going, “Hmm.”
Then she pulled my feet apart and began to climb up my back starting at my bottom. She did this several times, ‘falling’ off me at different places and in different ways.
Her giggles were off the charts, and she was mad as hell when her mommy told her it was time to go home.

Because I didn’t spend the entire day with her I had so much more energy to really play with her!
That is worth every single minute of us living in two different houses. Well, that and the fact that the drive is now forty-five minutes instead of eleven hours.

Here’s my pro and con list.
PROS
things that can be left out and remain safe:
drinks
remotes
reading glasses
pens
notebooks
bookmarks remain in books
(for the most part) everything remains tidy
reading more
doing less laundry
lack of flying food and dishes
folded laundry remains folded
more energy for play

CONS
not hearing toddler feet running down the hall
lack of random hugs and kisses
not having legit excuse for watching a shit-ton of Disney
hearing her say, “Papa”
watching YBW’s face when she says, “Papa”
not playing
not reading to her
not rocking with her before bed
not snuggling
not hearing new words as they come
not watching new skills as they develop
she has to leave to go home
I have to leave to go home

Truth be told, there is more good, more joy, and more opportunity for a new and different sort of closeness because my daughter and her family live in their own house, but I sure do miss receiving random kisses throughout my days.

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energy alignment and evolving spaces


I came across this on instagram the other night. It struck a chord in me as I immerse myself in packing.

I like how it says not ‘aligned with who you are anymore’.
I like the idea of your space evolving as you do.

I’ve been thinking about this concept as YBW and I leave this house to live in the new house.
The new house will begin with who we are together, where and how we are aligned now.

A new alignment will not change who we were individually, and who we were together. It doesn’t change how we lived in previous dwellings individually and together. It simply shifts the focus to who we are in this moment in time.
This is who we are now.

I believe creating new alignments does not dishonor who we used to be. I believe it is a reflection of who we are now.
I believe we can support and keep each other safe through this process.
I believe we can encourage each other’s alignment with love and respect.

Each of us choosing what we bring to our new home. How we choose to live together in this new environment.
What we bring with us has it’s own energy. We owe it to ourselves and each other to choose that energy carefully.

I’m hopeful as we continue to pack our things we choose mindfully.
I’m hopeful that the energy we bring into our new environment is positive and promotes growth.

Eight months ago, I wrote about being mindful how I curate my environment.

Things are just things.
At this stage of my life, my main focus is to curate my surroundings in a way that helps me thrive. Living my intention, learning and creating, and growing into the next version of me gives me all the feels.

That’s the kind of energy I’m all about creating an alignment with.

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time to begin again

In a post on this same day last year, I wrote:

As I shift my focus to what’s ahead in 2020, I’m excited to see what the year brings. Interestingly enough, I find myself open to whatever comes with a surprising lack of expectations. (That’s today, be sure to check back to see how that changes.)
To be perfectly honest, I find it absolutely freeing!
No real expectations. What might that look like?

When I expressed my lack of expectations in regards to the coming year I could never have known what 2020 would bring.
And what it brought was a combination of horror and blessing.

The biggest part of me feels comfortable knowing I went into this ineffable year open to whatever would come. Especially when I consider what came.
From the first news of covid to the executive order from our governor designed to keep us all safe.
From the joy of teaching in the winter to the longest school break in my lifetime.
From the grief of all we lost to the opportunities being at home presented us.
From feeling lost and wandering the desert to that sparkle of hope the new year brings.

Disappointments loomed large.
I didn’t get into the grad school program.
Welcome to Night Vale Live postponed twice before finally canceled.
Not going to school.
Not seeing friends and family.
Not leaving the house.

Opportunities presented themselves.
I was able to begin and finish the Great and Arduous Process and share the photos and stories of our life with family and friends.
I purged and organized my closet and dresser.
I cleaned and sorted and organized anything that sat still long enough for me to touch it.
I went to Thing 1’s to ease my soul but the bonus was I helped her pack her house.
I met Thing 2’s precious new young man, Boyfriend M.
YBW and I went to Georgia and helped bring our daughter and her family home to our house.
YBW and I started the process of building our new home.

Change is tricky.
Sometimes good, sometimes simply inevitable.
Thing G left our home for the home of his mother.
Thing 1, Husband N, Baby K, and three dogs in our otherwise quiet home.
Living through the bathroom construction.
The concept of leaving this house for a new one.
The planning and packing and prepping for a move.

Joy is here. Sometimes shining brightly, sometimes partially hidden.
I am filled with gratitude.

I’m grateful the people I love are safe and healthy.
I’m grateful we’re financially stable, that we have a roof over our heads and food in the larder.
I’m grateful for what I learned about myself this year. And for what I learned about the people around me.
I’m grateful that I was a mood.
I’m grateful that I had opportunities.
I’m grateful for my growth. For learning more about myself. For realizing how strong and resilient I actually am.
I’m grateful that Baby K is in my house every single day. (Even Especially when she’s feisty AF.)
I’m grateful for this time with my daughter. I never expected either of us would choose to celebrate cohabitating, yet here we are. And sure, there are good and bad days, but we’re truly enjoying each other.
I’m grateful for YBW. For his love. For his sense of humor. For his kindness. For his ability to get under my skin. For his dream of a new home that sparked such lovely anticipation.
I’m grateful I chose to greet 2020 in this way:

I’m smart enough to know better than to ask 2020 to ‘bring it!”.
But feel completely comfortable saying, “I’m as ready as I’ll ever be.”
Because I have hope.
Because I am of open of mind and heart.
And let’s be real, that’s the best way to walk into anything.

I find myself feeling hopeful about walking into 2021.
It’s so much more than that feeling of living though the nightmare of 2020 and imagining the coming year to be easier. It’s more a feeling of curiosity. A feeling of anticipation.
*Something’s Coming plays quietly in the background*

Am I tempting the Fates?
I think not.
Clotho, Lachesis, and Atropos have their hands full, they haven’t the time to consider me and my point of view.

My wish for all y’all as you move into the new year is you have love and hope in your pocket, you feel curious and of open mind and heart, you realize your own power and find good use for it.
It’s time to begin again.

Categories: me | Tags: , , , , , , , , , , , | 4 Comments

surprise jammie day

Saturday was a pretty chill day around here.
YBW and I fitted a bottom for Baby K’s dollie bed. Seriously, that was the only work I did.
Actually that’s not true. I cleaned the kitchen.

We each spent time on our computers.
I went through my natal chart.
We watched a movie. I think we watched two movies.

I realized something as we lie on the couch in front of the TV.
It was the first time I spent the entire day in pajamas since March.

I’ve been relentless in keeping a routine. Getting dressed every single day. Week days. Weekends. I’m up and dressed and going about my day.
That was how I kept myself sane.

Here’s what’s interesting about having a jammie day.
I think it means I’m beginning to feel ‘normal’. (we can debate actual definitions at a later point)
About once a month, I’ll have a weekend day in which I choose to be still. I remain in my pajamas all day and do or do not do whatever pleases me. Oftentimes those days are days spent in front of the TV with YBW. We’ll watch things off the DVR or watch movies or binge a show. It’s normally a good day. And even if I feel like a slug at the end of it, I know the next day I’ll be up and doing the things.
Sometimes I just need to disconnect from routine. Sometimes I just need to be still.

I haven’t given myself that kind of day since March. I clung desperately to a routine that helped me feel ‘normal’. In doing so did I not provide that much needed chill day?
I don’t know.

It wasn’t premeditated. It just happened.
Clearly I needed a jammie day and didn’t even know it.

These thoughts don’t feel fully hatched, but I’m learning that doesn’t always matter.
I needed to get them out.
I needed to say (out loud to y’all) that I had a pajama day for the first time since March.

Makes me wonder if you find yourselves realizing you’re doing or not doing things you normally do or do not in effort to feel normal.
Please let me know.

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my truth is self evident

I spent time with both my girls over the past ten days.
I went to Thing 1’s to help pack, and play with Baby K. She calls me “Baduh”and is an excellent snuggler. She loves books and blocks and wandering around her house ‘talking’ just to hear the sound of her own voice.
Thing 1 and I packed so much! There is precious little for her to pack and she has the next six weeks to do it. Mostly kitchen things they need to use every day between now and then and clothes. I brought with me most of Baby K’s toys and books, all Thing 1 and Husband N’s winter clothes and some other things they could part with in the meantime.

On the way back to VA, I stopped to see Thing 2.
We had a mini-girlie hotel weekend in which we snuggled and watched movies, ate a boat load of queso at our favorite Mexican place, and I met the young man she’s started seeing over Sunday morning brunch.
We were worried it wouldn’t feel like we had enough time, but it was perfect!
Returning to this house, I’m sad and disappointed to be apart from them.

I’m frustrated and disappointed to be here.
I don’t actually realize how miserable I am living here with my husband and his son until I’m away and return.
Turning onto our street made me anxious and angry.
I keep trying to figure out how it works when you love someone so much yet are so damn miserable at the same time.

When I’m away from this house I’m content. When I’m out and about with my husband I’m content.
The energy that surrounds my husband’s son is stagnant and putrid and poisons this entire household.
I’m so tired of feeling like I don’t have a say.
I’ve worked so desperately to accept this situation that I can’t change. And I can, for a while…
I can complain until I’m blue in the face and nothing changes. I’m so fucking tired of being trapped in a situation I didn’t create. I’m so fucking tired of being in a situation in which I’m powerless.
My life is being decided by a twenty year old man-child who refuses to make any personal decisions.
My husband expects his son to make life decisions, but the kid simply doesn’t have the skills to do that.
So we wait.
And we wait.

I feel like Sirius Black.

How much longer do I wait?
Well, now I have to at least wait until Husband N has a job and he and Thing 1 can buy a house.

I feel like I was promised one thing and received another.
I feel deceived.
I feel disappointed and let down.
What’s so awful about these feelings is that the actions didn’t come purposefully and with malice. The actions are a by-product of the way my husband and his family have functioned these past twenty years.
I believe he has every intention of fulfilling his promises he made when we began our relationship. But he won’t do them until he finishes fulfilling his promise to ‘take care‘ of his son.
The truth of the matter is he’ll never finish fulfilling the promise to take care of his son because his son never learned how to take care of himself. So he remains obligated to take care of him.
These promises don’t have to be mutually exclusive.
Yet here we are.

I’m finished being miserable.
I’m finished accommodating my husband’s son.
I’m finished accommodating my husband’s decisions.
Instead of being trapped waiting for other people to make changes, I can make changes that benefit me without negatively impacting others.
I’m finished playing by rules I didn’t have a voice in writing.
I’m finished participating in a life I didn’t actually agree to.

My husband reads my blog.
This will be so hurtful to him.
That’s not my intention. I’m just too tired to play the game anymore.
I don’t believe either of us truly understands how much we love each other because there’s always some sort of drama clouding everything up.

This whole post may seem petulant.
May seem like I’m being petty and uncaring.
May even seem like I’m the queen of the haters.
I don’t hate. I simply can no longer live the way my husband chooses to live.

This is actually a declaration.
My truths are self evident.

I need to help myself, because I can’t help my husband or his son. They can choose to swim around in their dysfunction. I’m getting out of the pool. I can’t tread that water anymore.

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I’m a mood

It’s Wednesday and I’m trying to create a plan for my day…
Only I’ve literally done all the ‘things’.
Nothing left to sort or organize. Nothing to prep. Nothing to engage me creatively.
Other than laundry and food prep, I have no tasks or projects to keep me occupied. And truth be told, I don’t really care about food right now.
I’m reading, but even that’s not enough. I find myself finishing a chapter or two and looking around for something else to do.
Writing is tricky as I’m not sure what to say that doesn’t sound whiny AF.

Monday my big event was going over Michaels for a curbside pick up. Driving with the windows down and the beautiful sunny breeze was excellent. I almost just kept driving. Only I didn’t put on shoes before I left since I knew I wouldn’t have to get out of my car and it felt a bit ridiculous to be out and about without shoes, what if something happened and I had to walk?

Tuesday I stripped and remade the bed, laundered and folded sheets and towels. I skipped laundry day Friday because I had an appointment with the acupuncturist. So I also did clothes instead of just linens.
Even laundry didn’t help me perk up. Though it is nice to have everything clean.

I’m in a mood.
No, I am a mood.

I’m not entirely sad.
I’m not entirely angry.
I’m sure as fuck not content.

I’m tired. But not the kind of tired a good night’s rest alleviates. I’m the kind of tired that seeps into your bones and fills the very marrow.
And tired isn’t quite the right word either.

I’m searching for something I can’t quite put my finger on…
Something to keep my brain and body occupied in a positive way.

Perhaps I should go down to Thing 1’s and help her pack…of course making that trip twice in two months is over the top…at least it would give me something to do. And I could see that delightful fat baby!
That drive though…
Perhaps a quickie trip to see Thing 2? We could do a girlie hotel weekend! Are hotels even open?

I keep thinking inspiration will arrive via roundhouse kick to my soul…
So far, so nothing.

I’ve sworn off social media for a while. I can’t handle it anymore. I can’t stand how people claim to be woke then say bullshit like all lives matter.
Of-fucking-course all lives matter, but the only people dying in the streets are black people. So yes! Black lives are what matter right now.
I will never understand what it’s like to be a black person or other person of color in America, but by God, I am paying attention!

I’m grouchy.
I’m antsy.
I’m chock full of nervous energy with nothing productive to pour it into.
I am frustrated.
I am tired.

But above all, I am hopeful.
I keep looking for the silver lining. For the pot of gold at the end of the rainbow. For the muses to show up and dazzle me.
Alas…here I sit. Writing about being a mood.
I appreciate your patience.

Categories: me | Tags: , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , | 9 Comments

things are just things

Y’all know Thing 1 and her family will be living in our house for a few months starting some time in July.
Y’all know YBW and I are eager to purchase and move into that townhouse.
The first of these will cause a change in the way we live in this house.
The second how we live in our new house.

This got me thinking about how I currently live in this house, how I want to live my remaining time in this house, and how I want to live in the new house.
Not how YBW and I live together. Those things must be decided by us as a unit.
I’m thinking how I want to live and what that means for me as a member of our household.

This thought process has been somewhat active as we begin to make preparations, but hatched into actual thoughts when I sent a photo to Thing 1 and Thing 2 asking if either of them had any interest in this item.

The story is my great aunt made this lamp for me. I don’t know when, but I do know I can’t remember a time when it wasn’t in my bedroom.
This Raggedy Ann lamp is a part of my life for as long as I can remember, but I don’t have any strong feels about it.
Thing 1 remarked that it’s one of those things that just stuck around.
The more I considered this, the more I realized that’s not a mindful way to live. At least I feel that way now about how I want to live.
Of late, I’ve worried that it may seem as though, and sometimes even feels like I’m just purging to purge, but I’m actually being super mindful about the way I want to live.
And what I surround myself with.
And what I leave behind needs to be the truest representation of the me I am (was?), and be simple for my daughters to handle.

I have this feeling it’s like shedding skin…
Or some sort of evolutionary process…
Leaving behind who you were in a mindful and respectful way and making room to become the next version of you…?

This is the last year of my forties, a natural phase of evolution as we get ready for a decade change. As I look at my life, I see how much my surroundings impact the way I live. By going through my things in a respectfully mindful way, I can prepare and environment that will meet my needs. Living my intention. Thriving in an environment that gives me everything I need with the bonus of things that foster learning and creativity. An environment in which I have enough room and the proper tools to grow into the next version of me.

Even though this lamp has been in my life as long as I can remember I don’t have any real feels about it.
Lack of feels is a strong indication that I don’t need it in my life which obviously means there’s no place for it in my house.
Purging to purge isn’t always healthy.
But being mindful about how I curate my environment is incredibly healthy.

My mom was not a full blown horder, but she was sure as hell a packrat. What I’ve learned about her since she’s been gone is that she saved things to fill emotional emptiness. By simply having these things she could feel the feels she didn’t have inside her.
She saved things that meant something because of the feels they evoked in her. Feels she couldn’t experience any other way.
My ex husband is exactly the same.
There is something about possessing particular items that provides some sort of emotion they otherwise lack (lacked). I truly believe it reinforces their stunted emotional growth. Then the weight of the things traps (trapped) them, so there’s no room to learn, or create, or grow.

I understand having great big feels about certain items. For me, a specific example of this is my Grandaddy’s wallet. It is of absolutely no use to me, but the feelings that bubble up in me when I hold it make it worth keeping.
But that is one particular item that is in a special place in my bookshelf that I can go to when I want to feel the intensity of those feels.
It doesn’t impact the way I live. It doesn’t block creativity or inhibit learning. It doesn’t waste space. It doesn’t keep me from growing as a human.
And I know as I write this that there will come a point in time I’ll be willing to let it go. Today is not that time.

I can’t be trapped by possessions. I need freedom to move. If I can’t move, I can’t grow.
I need to grow!
I want to evolve in my relationships with my friends.
I want to evolve in my relationships with my daughters.
I want to evolve with my granddaughter as she builds relationships.
I want to evolve in my relationship with my precious husband.

Things are just things.
At this stage of my life, my main focus is to curate my surroundings in a way that helps me thrive. Living my intention, learning and creating, and growing into the next version of me gives me all the feels.

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I wanted to share the stories

Tuesday last I went to the PO to send out all the photos I sorted for my friends and family.
I sent five large first class envelopes, three bigger priority mail padded envelopes, and one big priority mail box.

The first text came from my cousin Chris at 11:32 Thursday morning.

Bless you Robyn! Bless you. Just got the pics you sent me. Brought some much needed happiness, and a tear to my eye. Love you.

The second text came the same day at 5:02 from his sister.

I got the pictures. Thank you so much. Perfect timing Chris is coming over tomorrow.

The third text I got was from Sally at 5:11 Thursday afternoon.

Who are the other two folks?

I got Nicole’s text at 3:24 on Saturday.

We are loving all the pics! Thank you!

At 5:40 this came from Kristen. She taught second grade to both my girls. When Thing 2 was in her class, she had her first child. We saw them frequently. With the aid of social media we stayed in touch all these years, and she was here to celebrate with us last summer at the party for Baby K!

What a surprise!!!! Thank you!!!

He’s checking himself out (heart emoji)

I heard from Becca later Saturday evening at 8:18.

OMG!!!! Loved it!!! Thank you (with a bunch of smiley heart emojis)

Sundance got quarantined away from home, so her package is at her house waiting for her.

And the big box was delivered to the Things father, but I haven’t heard anything. I mean, not that I expected to. But I keep thinking, now I regret being kind to you.

Thing 1 said, “Momma, never regret being kind.” and she’s right.
None of these packages were about me. About the response I got for sending them.

I sent photos to my friends and family because I wanted to share the stories.
Their kids were babies in some of these photos. The stories of their whole young lives caught in these images. I wanted to share those stories, those memories with their families.
I absolutely adored going through these photos. The stories they told came back in vivid detail. Jogging my memory of other stories. I spent a few days reliving my daughters young lives. It was a sacred place to be.
It was also bittersweet. This part of our lives is past. And dwelling too long there would be less precious and more painful with every passing moment.
The time I spent revisiting my life, the lives of the people I love was a beautiful gift. I’ve sent off photos to my friends and family so they can revisit their own journeys. I find myself ready to once again look forward.

I’m pleased to be finished with that portion of the process. I look forward to the time when I can be with each of my girls and go through their boxes of photos. Sharing memories, stories, laughter, and maybe even tears.
In the meantime, I have the last two boxes. These are more photos from my past. Some of me as a child. Some from the collections of my parents and grandparents.
They feel less fun to me. Though, I remain hopeful that I’ll find pics that tell a story I don’t remember. Or one the girls don’t know so I can share with them.

I do still have a box of photo CDs to add to one of those external hard drives. Though, I’m not in a big hurry to get after that. I need a break from my life as a young mother. I don’t want to feel that bittersweet feeling. That pull of the past.

Those CDs will be there. Sitting in that box. Waiting patiently until I’m ready.

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the disconnect

I see photos of big urban cities with empty streets.
I understand the significance.
I understand the power of these images.
I understand how impactful it is to the city, to the world, but mostly to the people who live there.

I live at the end of a cul de sac at the back of a suburban neighborhood. Unless kids are out on their bikes, it’s mostly quiet. And this is when the world was normal.
What’s so strange to me is that even in this time in which we’re all staying put, it’s not that much different here.
We live in a place that doesn’t wear the impact of covid-induced self quarantine on it’s sleeve.

It’s a real disconnect.
Life looks pretty much the same.
It’s only in the going about suburban living that I see how different everything actually is.
But there’s the rub. I’m not supposed to be going out.

I find it so strange.
I watch the news.
I see social media.
I talk with friends and family.
What’s going on in the world is something I’m acutely aware of.
But I don’t see the evidence, you know?
My street doesn’t look any different.

Maybe that’s just suburban life.
The quiet cul de sac exists for just this reason.
To lull you into a sense of safety and comfort.

I am so fucking tired of hearing lawn mowers.

These thoughts aren’t fully hatched, so I may not be making sense trying to express them.
But I understand what I feel.
And it looks like this.

There’s a whole lotta WTF? going on.
I have access to information, but don’t actually bear witness.
I’m being impacted by the same things as the rest of the world, only it doesn’t actually look that way…?
Am I grateful to be affected, but not have to see?
Does it make it more or less real to me?
I’m truthfully not sure where I’m going with this, I just know it means something.
Perhaps I should wait for my thoughts to fully hatch before writing them down?

Categories: me | Tags: , , , , , , , | 11 Comments

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