Fear of missing out…

Fear of missing out…

I can’t sleep when I travel. Instead of laying my head back and resting my eyes from the passenger seat, I drive. A few years ago, Keith and I drove to Oregon and back for our summer vacation. I drove almost the whole six thousand miles. I don’t fall asleep with the television on. I can’t relax while things are happening. I could lay on the sofa, but I would just listen to what was happening, afraid I might miss something. I can’t even fall asleep with music on. My brain is wired to pay attention. As a child, I would linger at the bedroom door, listening to adults talking in the other room, while I was supposed to be sleeping. I never wanted to miss a thing. Continue reading “Fear of missing out…”

By the sea…

By the sea…

As I walked down the misty beach, I was reminded of so many other days spent walking with my feet covered in sand, my hair blown back, and the worries of the world pushed away by the rolling surf and clear horizon. It wasn’t your traditional beach day, fog and mist held the temperatures down and the sun struggled to break free from the gray. But, for me, it was a perfect beach day. A day to reconnect me, to myself and the younger me who walked miles and miles on empty beaches letting the sharp edges of life be worn smooth by the effect of wind, sand, and sea. Continue reading “By the sea…”

Savoring August…

Savoring August…

After almost thirty years in New England, I recently realized that although I am a fan of both October and May, it is August that has my heart. From beginning to end, August fills my soul. This year, I have enjoyed each of the 31 days, rolling them around in my mind like penny candy. Although it is my nature to jump ahead, this summer I’ve lingered over the golden light of August and allowed my senses to fully attend to sights, sounds, and delights of late summer. Continue reading “Savoring August…”

A new rhythm…

A new rhythm…

One of the unintended consequences of my recent trauma has been a profound sense of disconnection from my life. I’m certain there are lots of reasons for this. Life literally stopped for a couple months, weakness and pain kept me close to home, and dealing with the emotional, physical, and spiritual aftermath has been no joke. I have been so grateful for the space, the time, and the grace to move through my own process of healing. I’ve found the silence healing. I’ve spent time reading. I’ve snuggled close to my husband and children. It feels as though I’ve let go, somehow, and just life move on without me. Continue reading “A new rhythm…”

Play time…

Play time…

Monday morning, before the sun was high in the sky, Teddy and I were at the playground. I forgot that the plastic play structure would still be covered in dew. He was so excited, it didn’t even matter. He climbed, steered, stomped, and slid for over an hour. His little muscles worked, his brain made connections, and I got to bear witness to the miracle of a growing toddler. By the time we returned to the car, he was dirty and soaking wet. My work here was done. Continue reading “Play time…”

Goal setting…

Goal setting…

I’ve written before about my compulsion practice of setting goals, breaking them into actionable steps and methodically moving forward to reach each one. As the school year approaches, I find myself looking at the newest planners, thinking about shiny new notebooks, and dreaming about new goals. In my world, late August is the beginning of a new season. Continue reading “Goal setting…”

Grandma’s china…

Grandma’s china…

As these things go, my grandma’s china came to me. My mom packed it up in boxes and shipped it across the country a long time ago. The first Christmas after it arrived, I carefully cleaned it and set the table for holiday dinner. Later, I told my mom how special it was to use the china, but couldn’t get over how small the plates were. We chuckled about how serving sizes have changed over time. Continue reading “Grandma’s china…”

Summer art…

Summer art…

Every summer, I want to be an artist. As a child, I remember gathering my coloring books and arranging my crayons on a beach towel under the willow tree. The warm breeze rattled the long branches as I lay on my back looking through the branches to the blue breaking through. As a teen, I brought a sketchbook to the beach and imagined myself capturing the weight of the sun, the sparkle of the water, the soft roll of the dunes. As a young mom, I longed to capture the folds of baby knees, the curve of a chin, and the movement of children climbing, exploring, and discovering the world in our backyard. Continue reading “Summer art…”

All the words…

All the words…

The summer I graduated from college (at forty), I spent weeks hiding from my kids on the screened in back porch. I gathered armfuls of books from the library, and spent my days sipping iced tea, and gulping down books. I read as though my life depended on it. When I finished a book, I laid on the sofa and watched puffy white clouds float by. And then… I started another. Continue reading “All the words…”