Sunday, May 4, 2014

Keeping Time

I am realizing that I am older, and more feeble of mind.  I am having to write and journal all the things I have to do and that are done.  I have to keep calendar.  I can no longer remember hair appointments and planned activities.  I find myself confusing days and mixing up times.  'Oh that was today'.  Those words pass my lips so easily these days.  A calendar for my purse must match up with the one on the fridge.  Appointment cards are for the young.  I did through the bottomless purse to find my lifeline.  Then I must go home and coordinate again.  

Tuesday, April 15, 2014

sunny day

I woke up the kids yesterday and they complained about the snow and the cold.  And throughout the day I heard all the random comments about the endless winter.  And sometimes I found myself complaining of the chill and the wind.  
I live in a spot where winter in April is not unheard of.  Springs are short, summers are humid and winters drag on beyond anyone and everyone's expectation.  We are all done.  DONE!! With this weather and this winter.  
The ground is so frozen that we might have to wait to plant and mow and put water in the pools etc. etc.  The cold set so deep in the ground that all Spring activities are on hold and that will spill over into summer.  Our outside lives are on hold. 
Tulips for Easter will not be a thing this year. 
Daffodils in May.  
Tomatoes planted in June.  
Don't count on a big harvest, plan accordingly.   
Pray for an Indian Summer.  
Dream of a vortex that doesn't swoop down and brittle our bone next year.
Dream of a warm and sunny day.

Wednesday, April 2, 2014

the dance

I straddle the gray line.
One foot in the past.
I take it out to move forward.
The other glides back.
I roll my head to the side,
to see what I am missing.
A hand reaches out
to feel what has past.
My hips propel me forward.
My shoulders hold me back.

Monday, March 3, 2014

That moment before sleep
 I find myself making up stories.  
Characters and ideas.  Dialogue.
Small sparks of something.  
A story made of dragging feet across carpet,
touching a door knob. 
Balloon rubbed on hair and sweater. 
And that quickly the story is gone.  
I wake to find that my story has lulled me to sleep.
A toddler's desire. 
An adult's anguish. 
This story will never be written.  
Undefined characters.
No story-lines.  
No arc..  
No real conclusion.

 A tragedy. 

Friday, February 28, 2014

endless winter

There is this place between February and March that feels endless. 
These weeks before the snow melts; that feels like Spring will never come.
Because as the sun rids the snow on the ground so too this feeling of depression.  
But in this moment, right now, it feels like it will never come.  
I so desperately want to wake with the sun. 
I want to  step outside without all the layers.  
I want to feel free of the cold.  
The achy hands and feet.  
The bone chill that never leaves. 
I want that feeling of rebirth only the Spring can bring.    

Saturday, February 1, 2014

carry on.

I can speak out of turn.  Or do something wrong.  I am human after all.  It's what humans do.  They make mistakes.
I wish that logic could be that simple for my mind to grasp.  But anxiety usually takes over.  Always takes over.
I ruminate.  Stew. Question my intentions.  What at that exact moment of indiscretion I was thinking, doing. Always a question of why.  I beat myself up.  Wonder when and if I will suffer forever for what I have done. Over and over I go over myself.   An endless cycle.
I think that sometimes it would great to be JUST human.  To be like those who can brush it off.  Go about your day.  Learn from mistakes and carry on.
Carry on.

Tuesday, January 28, 2014

snow day

Not really snow days.  More cold days.  The idea that it is so cold they are shutting you into your home.  Too cold to go from house to car to building to car and back into house.  Frostbite occurs in less than thirty minutes.  
One minute in you feel fine.   
Two there is a heaviness in your chest.
Three you find it hard to catch your breath. 
The liquid cold invades your lungs.
Four minutes out you regulate.
Five your hands start to ache.
Every part covered and otherwise feels the bitter frost.

Being shut in can be hard with two kids.  But not with two older kids.  Because they know their own things. They don't want to do what mom wants to do.  These things are 'BORING!'  And 'NO FUN!' 
I am lost and bereft not having to coddle two children locked indoors.  I don't have to search for crafts or make magic tricks; tap dance to entertain.  They do it all themselves.  I am not a mother of the needed and discontent.  I am a mother of the independent and content.
So I force the issue.  I make them read and play games with me.  Make them watch a movie with me or talk. 

Soon the barometer will change and life will go back to the way it was.  And we will again wish for the chance to be this content again.   

Sunday, January 26, 2014

the beauty in movement

For the past months I have worked with and taught children with autism.  I have learned so much.

Beauty in Movement
I find that as I get older I have a harder time with movement.  
Beyond the regular walking, driving,
I find my stomach quease, 
my head ache, 
vertigo takes over, 
and my heart  races.  
I have to close my eyes and remember to breathe.
It can take minutes, hours, days till I feel myself again.  
What once brought joy, 
the swing,  
a roller coaster,
the top looking down onto the world below,  
now seems to set me on edge. 
I find myself wishing to have my feet firmly on the ground.  
The only way to be centered is to feel something solid beneath me.  

I work with children with autism. 
It seems the opposite applies to them.  
That being on solid ground makes them quease, 
causes their head to ache.  
Movement quick and sure is great relief.  
On the ground they are fast.  
Their arms appear to move without control.  
A run becomes a skip,
a gallop
then slows to a walk,
back to a run 
and a sudden erupt stop.   
Swinging becomes a stillness. 
The pump of the legs, 
and forward momentum brings a clarity to them.  
Their eyes focus and look at you.  
You see a sudden center
and in that quick moment of movement you see into a soul. 
A beautiful soul.  
Movement is a precious thing.  
Stillness can be overrated.

Monday, December 2, 2013

A mother and a daughter.
A sister and a friend.
And all those come together.

What if one of those pieces fell away?
A sister  not a daughter.
A mother not a friend.

I am all those things.
When I wish not to be
there is no surrogate.

Together the same and all different.
Always they will make up the moments of me.

Friday, November 8, 2013


I don't quite have this working/mom thing down quite yet.  I missed all the fun stuff like adequate pumping and late night feeding intermixed with early morning meetings.  I am lucky that way.  But there is still a balance that I am missing.  My job allows me to be with the kids without in between time.  No need to find child care or sitters.  I am too blessed to complain.  I still will.
I want to write and tell you all about my new job, but there is a need for privacy with the kids I work with. What I say and how I say it has to be carefully worded.  I don't know how to say it in the right way.
Most of my day consists of encouraging handshakes instead of hugs.  Figuring out a way to adapt seventh grade science classes to suit a social obligation and an academic need.  Pin-pointing the causes, direct and otherwise, of severe aggression.
My day is beyond active and it stretches me to my limits.  I have to be flexible and ready to change on a dime.  Then come home and plan a dinner and help with homework.  Mom's do it everyday.  I still haven't gotten it quite right yet.
Somehow, someway it will all come together.  I will figure out a way to come home and leave it all at the door.  I will come back to the writing I so love and desperately need.  It is all an act of balance.