Realizing My Empty Nest is Not Empty At All

 
So, it’s been just over a year since my nest emptied. And yet I find myself still struggling with the notion that I’m not ‘Mom’ everyday.

I miss the little things.

                - I miss getting up in the morning to make her breakfast and lunch for school.
      - I miss planning our family fun activity for the weekend.
      - I miss tucking her in at night – just knowing she’s in the next room sleeping soundly.
      - I miss thinking about the next life lesson I should share with her.
      - I miss decorating the house with the next holiday garb.
      - I miss making her favorite dinner – or surprising her with a new dish.
      - I miss taking walks in our neighborhood.
      - I miss the structure – so that life didn’t get so hectic that we couldn’t enjoy it.
      - I miss her hugs.

Though, today I think I’ve come to figure out how not to struggle.

And the answer is being mindful...in the present.

As of today, I have everything I’ve been wanting in my life – and more.

                   - I have the most wonderful and loving man.

                   - I have the love of extended family.
         - I have great friends – old and new.
         - I have a good job.
         - I have my Buddy dog.
         - I live in the most beautiful surroundings.
         - I travel.
         - I laugh.
         - I love.

And more...I have all I want and need. Food on the table, a home, my health...and so does she.

I’ve had so many incredible experiences this year…all while my nest was empty. So I need to continue living for those experiences. New ones. And also exploring my new relationship with my daughter.

And the only way to do that is to not live in the past. Mourn it. Yearn for it. Be sad over this change in my life.

Besides, my girl lives just a couple hours away from home. And she’s been coming home more often. And when she does, I get to hug her.

So, I will live in the now. This beautiful, wonderful, exciting, full of love NOW. And I will be ever grateful for it. The life I have now is everything I had hoped, and yearned, and prayed for…my dream came true right before my very eyes.

I will wake up each morning, with gratitude and joy for all I have – right now. Laying right beside me.

And know that she’ll be home to visit soon…And I’ll get to hug her again.

I’m the luckiest girl in the world. 

In this moment. 

Right now. 

And I am ever grateful.

My Topless Endeavor

"On a scale of 1 to 10, how important is it that you do this?"

"10," I said without hesitation. (I surprised myself at both my answer and how quickly I arrived at it.)

He immediately looked into my eyes, gave me 'the nod', and declared, "Ok. Let's do this."

We both took a deep breath, stood up, grasped each other's hand, and walked back over to the demonstration.

The #gotopless demonstration in San Francisco in support for gender equality.

-----

My boyfriend and I sometimes joke around about my many feminist posts on Facebook. He laughingly said one day, "Ok, you're only allowed to post ONE feminist thing per day!" Of course he was kidding. And, of course, I laughed at the irony of his joke. And, of course, I have been posting WAY more than one #amightygirl or #nationalwomenshistorymuseum post per day. Ha! But in all of the reading and learning I've been doing (because I fully read what I post), women's equality has recently come to the forefront of my brain - my heart. Now more than ever.

It's funny, really. I didn't think about women's issues until 2011 when my daughter brought home an assignment from school about the fight for women's rights at the turn of the 19th century. I even blogged about how moved I was yet how little I knew. (Women's Independence...Have We Overcome?) I didn't know that the Suffragettes were beaten and jailed and even died. I didn't know how women with any kind of voice were outcast from society. I didn't know about the Gibson Girl, Bloomers, or how important the bicycle was to women's freedom. And after just now reading that blog I wrote 5 years ago - I am SO glad I participated in the topless demonstration yesterday. Even more so than before.

So, naturally, a few days ago when my boyfriend showed me the Facebook event for #gotopless I was excited that we were going to be in San Fran the very day of the event! And on a non-work day! And we happened to be staying right across the street from the venue! It couldn't have been more convenient! I had 2 entire days to think and ponder and daydream and plan. The event flooded my every thought! What was I going to say to the world? What words did I want to display on my bare chest? What message did I want to send to my friends and family. But mostly, I wanted my daughter to be proud of me. I wanted to feel proud of myself. And, oh, how I wanted to feel free. Finally.

But, oh, it was so hard.

-----

When we first arrived at Union Square park there were no demonstrators in sight. We walked around the park expecting to see a huge crowd, people on loudspeakers, the masses cheering with colorful signs and posters and reverie! (Well, at least that's what I had expected.) But no. The park was empty. Just a few people milling around as people do in city parks on a beautiful Sunday afternoon. Then, just as we were about to leave, I noticed a small crowd of what appeared to be the #gotopless folks on the outside corner perimeter of the park. I was both elated and disappointed. I was soooo happy that people showed up and I was sad that it was only a brave few. But! There they were! Bare chested! I motioned to my boyfriend, "my tribe is over there!" So, towards them we walked.

When we got to the demonstration, we saw a small crowd standing around a smaller group of topless men and women. There were a few men from the crowd interviewing the demonstrators, taking pictures and asking questions. I stood behind the inquisitive crowd and squeezed my boyfriend's hand. I was terrified. I wasn't ready to take a stand. I wasn't ready to bare my breasts to the staring crowd. I was not ready to potentially get in trouble with the police (even though I did the research and found that it was legal for women to be topless at Union Square park). I just wasn't ready to take my stand.

I was terrified.

-----

You see, I grew up in a VERY conservative culture in a small South Texas town. It was ingrained in me to be modest. Don't attract the wrong attention by showing your figure. Cover up. Be a proper lady. Be subservient to the men in our family. Girls back home didn't even go swimming without wearing an over-sized t shirt over their swimsuits. And as a teenager, when my body matured, I felt more and more afraid to show it. Especially because I have large breasts. Always have. (Yep. I went from a training bra to a full C cup in the 7th grade.) And as a young teenager, I was thin, barely over 4 ft tall and my big boobs were noticeable, so I dressed very conservatively, making sure I hid my breasts and body as best I could. In fact, I distinctly remember running into a very popular boy in my high school at the grocery store on a Saturday morning. I remember getting dressed in a hurry because my mom needed me to pick up just 1 thing. It was early. It was a weekend. Surely I wouldn't run into anyone I knew. So I threw on an old pair of shorts that were very short because I had outgrown them. But they were all I had clean! And sure enough... As I saw him, I remember trying to duck around the corner. I didn't look his way, and instead did an about face to walk in the opposite direction. My mother's words ringing in my ears, "always fix yourself up when you go out in public because you never know who you are going to run into." In other words, look like a lady. Of course, he saw me. And then my teenage nightmare came true. He caught up with me and said, "Damn, Dori! You look gooooood! I never knew you had legs much less such nice ones!" (Ironically, that same boy asked me at our ten year HS reunion if I had always had these boobs.)

I was mortified.

I felt humiliated. Ashamed. I felt so uncomfortable that a boy had not only noticed my legs, but in a catcall sort of way, commented on them. I felt dirty because I had attracted sexual attention and that meant I was the problem. My body was the problem. And when I went to college, the catcalls got worse. I even got fired from my first job because I declined to go out with my manager. (Of course he called me into the office a week later, gave me a form to sign saying I had resigned, and handed me a nice recommendation letter. I'm guessing corporate did  not like his reasons for why he fired me.) Those years in college, I got groped in a crowded hallway, had a car follow me when I was walking home with a guy hanging out of the window yelling grossly sexual remarks, and even had my roommate's boyfriend tell me he thought I was slutty because I was heading out for a study date at 11pm. At my second college job I had to ask my supervisor to shut down a chat room conversation two guys were having about how it must be to have sex with me. This was a chat room the entire office used regularly and bosses could see. I was mortified. My boss stopped their unprovoked conversation, but I felt outcast for some time because, yes, I complained and stopped their fun. I was being "too sensitive."

And worse, I was date raped. Twice. (Yep, I said no. To both men. Both times. Emphatically to the point of screaming and crying. But my NO did not mean NO to them.)

So shortly after that, I gained weight. And a lot of it. In less than a year I put on 100 pounds on my 98 lb, 4'11" frame. And I think part of why I put on so much weight was because the catcalling stopped with every pound I put on. Men were no longer taking an interest in my body. I felt more comfortable in a bigger body. Invisible. Getting crappy remarks from my teenage female second cousin about fat being gross was way better than the sexual advances I received when I was thin. I did end up losing most of the weight my junior year in college and kept it off until I had my daughter. And I am overweight now. But now, at 44, I have never felt more beautiful and proud of my body. It has taken several years, and oh, yes. I still get catcalled. But I don't blame myself anymore. I don't feel like my body is indecent or immoral just in its mere form.

It also affects me at work.

I am a software consultant. I work in mostly male dominated industry. So I have to make CERTAIN that I hide my boobs to ensure I am taken seriously. I wear super high necklines, nothing too fitted, jackets, scarves, anything to make sure my boobs are not known. But it sometimes doesn't seem to help. Just last week a manager told me the conference table was for dancing, "so get on up there!" Yep. I was the only woman in the room. Yep, I was shocked. Yep, I told him, "I thought the table was for you to get up and dance on!" The look of shock on his face was sort of funny to me. But I was livid. I did nothing to provoke his comment...and yet, I did nothing to address it either. I couldn't. He is my client. And I like getting a paycheck. I've also been patted on the back with sympathy because, "honey, this is data and it's hard to understand." Yeah. I am a data analyst, so I know data. I was also asked a few months ago if I was going to take notes (at an all male meeting) for everyone - as a secretary would. I said no, thank you, I can take my own notes since this meeting was called by ME so the vendor to explain their data mining strategies to me, the quality assurance data consultant.

So, I REALLY felt I had to participate with the other #gotopless folk. It was my mission to stand up and be seen and heard.

-----

After watching the demonstrators for a few minutes, I told my boyfriend I was not ready to join. He suggested we go take a rest under a nearby tree. We sat down, and I shared with him what this demonstration means to me. How challenging it is to be taken seriously as a woman for our brains despite our bodies. How I want a better world for my 19 year old daughter who is embarking on a male dominated career herself. He, as he always does, tried empathizing with me and all women. It was a great talk. And then he asked me on a scale of one to ten, how important is this to me. And then that's when I immediately answered with a resolute "TEN." And that's when we walked back over to join the demonstration. 

When we got back to the crowd we noticed it had grown. Both the audience and participants. We stood there for a moment, then moved our way front and center. I don't remember looking anyone in the eye, not even my boyfriend. But I do remember saying, "it is time." I put my purse down, took off my cardigan...and then my shirt. 

I was topless. 

My boyfriend looked at me with those eyes which asked me without words, "are you ok?" I smiled at him, pulled out my phone, and asked him to take a picture of me. That was my way of answering him back, "hell yes." 

I was free. 

Soon afterwards he took off his shirt. Moments later, I asked a wonderful gentleman who was also shirtless and who seemed to be the #gotopless house artist, if he wouldn't mind letting me have some paint. He offered to paint words on me and so I asked him to add the words, "FREEDOM" to my bare chest. 

Freedom. 

My boyfriend also asked for paint. He asked the nice gentleman to paint 'EquaLove" on his chest. And, yes, that meant the world to me. My boyfriend not only supported me without hesitation, but joined me as a feminist himself. I've never known what that sort of unfettered and wholehearted support felt like...and it is incredible. 

We stayed for a short while and talked with a couple demonstrators. We heard that earlier the police asked them to move because the group appeared to be blocking the stairway therefore blocking the disabled from entering the park. Thankfully, the demonstrator in the wheelchair pointed out that disabled folk wouldn't be using the stairs but rather the ramp around the corner...they weren't blocking accessibility and thus infringing on the ADA. We stood for pictures from the audience. We took selfies. We even waved to a tour bus which passed by with tourists who seemed to suddenly jump out of their seats in cheer.

And then, when I felt fulfilled, I turned to my boyfriend and said, "I'm good." 

With that, he smiled, brushed my cheek with a kiss, and reached to help me with my shirt. I gave him his. And together we got our shirts on and left Union Square park. Hand in hand. With a new understanding for each other. 

And a heightened resolve for me.

-----

Freedom. 

Freedom to have the same rights as anyone else despite my breasts. So, yes, that absolutely includes going topless because men can...and women cannot.

Freedom to be seen equal under the Constitution regardless of sex. This means having the Equal Rights Amendment ratified...because today, we don't have one.

Freedom of being judged, minimized, sexualized, victimized because of our gender and bodies.

Freedom from the notion that we cannot possibly be taken seriously in our careers because of our breasts. And yes, this includes EQUAL pay.

Freedom on a larger scale for so many women suffering around the world in ways I cannot even fathom.

Freedom for my daughter. I never gave much thought to all of the things that happened to me as a young woman. In my mind, it was just the way of the world. However, now that my daughter is in college and about go out into the world herself, I do not EVER want any of those things happen to her. Ever. I don't want her to think the way I have for so long about my career: that I have to be twice as good at my job so the men in my field think I'm at least half as good. I want her to have all of the very best this life has to offer her. I never want her to feel inferior or feel the need to be ashamed or apologize for being a woman. I want her path to be free and clear so that she can soar to the great heights she so much deserves. And the world deserves her in her true form - intelligent, bold, brave, compassionate, free, and hungry for a full life.

So I did the only thing I could on that day. A day near which marked the anniversary of Women's Equality Day. Removing my shirt was was my way of taking a stand for all women. I know it was a tiny gesture compared to the great work others are doing, but for me it was huge.

I feel like, in a way, I just started living my life.

And damn, I feel free. I no longer feel like "Just a Girl."

Hell, life isn't worth living if you don't do things that scare the shit out of you, right?

My Daughter Inspires Me...Everyday

For the people who know me, I say this quite often. Yes I am a proud mother, but I am sincere when I say that my daughter inspires me. She inspired me just today to write this!

She messaged me earlier from her college dorm. She wrote some essays for a job application. It is a job she really REALLY wants. She started her message to me with the fact that she felt weird about her essays and worried they sounded fake.

Ok.

So I read them.

Then I cried.

Then I was overcome with joy.

The essays were beautiful. You see, she is applying for a job where she will be completely immersed in her PASSION - environmental conservation. And when I read these essays of hers I felt her sincere and heartfelt passion and love for what she wants to do. She deeply cares about not just the environment, but also humankind. It was evident in her writing.

I told her not to change a single word.

I also told her that maybe she felt weird about her essays because sometimes it feels hard and awkward and weird to speak from the depths of our souls. From our hearts. Yet, nothing is more beautiful.

Plus her essays were well written and had no grammatical errors, so from that standpoint - change nothing. :)

But, of course, I began thinking further.

I thought of something a dear friend said to me the other day. He is worried about he pre-teen sons. Now, we all as parents worry. It's our job to worry. We wouldn't be good parents if we didn't worry. Yet his worry is a worry that I remember having, too. He is worried about what kind of people his boys will turn out to be in this world. Don't all of us parents have this worry! And I know he's not actually 'worried.' He knows his children are wonderful people. Of course. I told him, not to worry. And, of course, I offered advice...something about taking them to do volunteer work, yada yada.

It's hard to turn off the solution architect in me sometimes.

But as I sit here now, I wish I had said something else to him.

So I say it now:

Your sons will be fine. And even though I do not know them, I can guarantee they will be kind and good people when they venture out into the world. They will be appreciative and see wonder in others and the world around them. Want to know how I know? Because you are good. As parents we lead by example. Kids eat all of that shit up, even if we think they are not looking or paying attention. And because you live your life with love, kindness, empathy, compassion, fun, and joy...they will follow suit.

How can they not.

And they will exceed all expectations. Not because they will make lots of money or have several degrees or go to fancy schools. But because they will take the example you are living (right before their eyes) to even greater heights.

...

And to my daughter I say...I am ever proud of you, LD.

Go move the world!

I See Me

I wrote this back in December of 2013 in response to a really shitty thing a boyfriend said to me one day at the beach. It was the last time I went to the beach. But fuck that. Beach bound, I am. It's taken 3 years to overcome the pain and hurt (because prior to his hurtful words I had never thought of myself as anything other than beautiful - he sort of shook me up with his impression of me)... but now I am healed. Now I share with the world. Once again, I see me. It is a beautiful freedom not to care how others see you physically. There is too much to do and see  and experience in the world so I choose to do it with abandon and love for myself. All of me. Every. Last. Inch.

A big thank you to my daughter who encouraged me to post this poem today.


You will never see me
As I see me.

You see fat.
I see strength.
I see perseverance.
I see beauty.

You see a back with rolls.
I see a back that has weathered storms over years of hardship.

You see shoulders that are slumped.
I see shoulders that have carried the weight of the world.

You see arms with flab.
I see arms that hold with steadfast love.

You see a gut with stretch marks.
I see a stomach that bore the soul of a precious child.

You want this body hidden behind the cloak of darkness.

I want this body to feel the warmth of the sun on it's bare skin.
I want this body to feel the gentle caress of love.
I want this body to dance freely in the ocean waves.

I want to be seen.
For me.
For who I am and who this body represents.

A woman who has the strength to raise a child alone.

A woman who has the perseverance to move forward in life when the odds were stacked up against her.

A woman who looks beyond the surface and sees the goodness in others no matter how hidden.

A woman who can appreciate the beauty around her - including the beauty in herself.

I see me.

Ready...Set...Get in Line!

So I have not written or posted in, like, YEARS. I normally write when I'm down or stressed or trying to figure some personal shit out. Writing helps me understand me and the world around me.

Writing calms me.

However today I am up at the butt crack of dawn - ready to WRITE. And, why, you ask? Because I am inspired! Happy! Feeling uber great and, well, I'll reiterate - inspired! (Thanks, Jim.)

And mostly I am ready to jot my thoughts down after several years of getting back on the road to being my authentic self.

But that's a post for another time.

This morning I want to write about lines. Yes. Lines.

Single file lines, to be exact. You know, the single file lines people form in daily life. The single file line we, as little tiny humans, were taught to form in kindergarten whenever the class went somewhere as a group. Holding hands in a human chain link, walking directly behind the person in front of you, in complete unison. Or when you were waiting at the drinking fountain after P.E. class. Heck, I remember the nuns at my school lining us up by our shoes so the line was PERFECTLY straight! Yes, lines. The single file line that we as adults still form today.

Have you noticed that we still form single file lines?

Grocery stores. Banks, Fast food joints. DMV.

And, yes. Call me weird, but I've been thinking about line forming since the last time I lived in upstate New York. In fact it was there that I first noticed how friggin seriously people (grown ups) take their single file line forming.

I'll explain...

Back in 2010 I used to live about an hour's drive from my work in downtown Albany. So, since gas prices were outrageous and my daughter is all about being green and I loathe driving in gobs of traffic, I decided to take the commuter bus from my small town into work. It was quite the routine. Most of the other commuter bus riders had been riding this same bus for YEARS. They knew the routine. They perfected their process. On my local route there was no single line forming. People gathered at the exact same time every morning and as the bus pulled up to the stop, we all got on based on the unsaid hierarchy of  who-got-here-first. It was a smooth process.

Then one day I was late for my local bus and had to ride a bus on the other side of town. So off I drove to the parking-lot to wait for the bus. I drove into the lot and saw something that hit me in a very odd way (obviously so odd that I am writing about it six years later).

People were in a perfectly straight single file line. And they weren't just in line. They were in line on the parking stripe. And the bus was no where in sight.

So I got out of my car and proceeded to wait NEXT to the line.

I did this because I thought, well, I don't know this process. I have questions for the driver and don't want to hold the routine riders up and make them have to wait for their seat. Basically, I thought I was being considerate of the other riders.

As I perched myself under the tree a few parking spaces away from the line to wait for the bus, a man shouted at me, "Hey! You have to get in line if you're waiting for the bus!" I smiled at him and politely said, "Oh, it's ok. I have questions, so I am going to get on last so I don't hold you up. But thank you!"

He gave me an odd look, then scowled, and proceeded to wait quietly in line.

The bus finally pulled up and the single file line of people got on. I went last, asked my questions, and took my seat. All was well.

The next day I decided I would try this bus again. I told myself I would take it because it was more convenient...but really, I just wanted to study this single file line forming process these people seemed to live and die by.

So off I went to the bus. And, yes. The single file line was there again. And jeesh! The bus wasn't due to arrive for at least another ten minutes! How long had these people been standing there?!

This is what I saw (yes this is the actual picture I shot of the actual line).



This time I decided I would not dare rouse the mob and just waited in the car until the bus arrived. I took this bus for a couple weeks. One time I did wait under that tree again - just as a social experiment. Yes, I got the evil sneers. No, I never joined the single file line. It just seemed silly to me. And so conformist! And as my friends well know...I don't conform very easily.

So then, years later, I was back in Idaho and found myself at a Walgreen's pharmacy. I was the 3rd person in line. And as all of us line forming humans know...that 3rd person in line is THE person who will determine the line's direction, flow, form. I noticed that more people started making their way to get in line and if I stood directly behind the person in front of me, the line would form in the aisle and then block shoppers from product. So, to be considerate of other shoppers, I decided to stand next to the woman in front of me in hopes the line would form in the pharmacy lobby area and out of the way. In fact, I'm pretty sure the lobby was set up with this very sort of line forming in mind.

But nope. The fourth, fifth, sixth person formed a single file line directly behind the woman in front of me, leaving me standing off to the side. And the line did just what I had feared - it went down the shopping aisle and shoppers were coming left and right trying desperately to break the line to get to the shampoo, razors and baby diapers. It was madness! People were flocking to the line in all directions! The line got longer and wrapped all along the main aisle blocking all other aisle entrances. And...WOULD PEOPLE KNOW I WAS IN LINE?!?! Would I have to wait behind the 15 or so people before I got my script? My heart was racing. Beads of sweat were forming on my brow. Will this nightmare never end?!

Fortunately, the person behind me was nice and let me go when it was my turn. The pharmacy backup people came to help and the line disappeared quickly. The madness ended.

I was so relieved.

Whew!!

Now, I don't have a strange aversion to line forming. And no, I am not an anarchist (which I was recently kiddingly asked when I told this story). I do see the value in line forming. Who wants mobs of people charging the checkstand? Not this gal! But I think about these rules that we humans have created. We create them initially to provide structure but yet we seem to allow the rules to run amok and eventually take priority over the consideration of others. We follow rules without much thought sometimes. We even make the rules more complex and stringent...I see this everyday with some of my clients. And for what? To make the world a better place? To ensure people's lives are enhanced and enriched and fulfilled?

I think we have good intentions when we create and follow rules. But when we do it without thought and just DO because it's what we DO, then don't you think that can be a bad thing? And what about the person who just wants to stand NEXT to the line? Why is that person labeled an anarchist, rebel, bad seed?

Well...I say, "Bad seeds, rise!"

What a wonderful thing to put consideration of others before a silly rule...

Much less a single file line.

Only the Lonely

I'm a consultant. A traveling one. Yeah, so it's kinda like being a traveling salesman in the 1950's. Except I don't drive myself in a big car of shiny chrome on dusty dirt roads or desolate highways around the country-- with coffee cups lining the floor & a tidy briefcase in the passenger seat. Instead, I wait in a crowded line to take my tiny seat on a big blue & orange airplane and fly each week-- with a tiny wristlet purse & my worn laptop bag stuffed with travel receipts & unread mail stowed properly underneath the seat in front of me while flight attendants walk up & down the aisles to make sure all electronic devices are powered completely down and properly stowed away for takeoff.

And it gets lonely.

Don't get me wrong! I love my job! I get to experience the ultimate thrill of independence! It's like being on vacation, yet I get to live & work in a new place with each job. I get the excitement of exploring a new city and experiencing the beauty & wonder of a place away from home. Pretty cool, huh?

It is. But it also gets pretty lonely.

In an attempt to fight the lonlies while I'm away, I sometimes find myself making conversation with random strangers...while I'm waiting in line at the airport restroom, waiting to board the light rail, waiting for my lunch at the cafeteria, waiting at the Safeway checkstand to bring home my bachelorette-like groceries for the week. And I don't find much success with these attempts. I miss my family and my conversations with them. It's just not the same.

Lonely.

And when I come home...my family moves on during the week. They've done their thing, had their experiences, and shared it all with me via short text messages or a quick call after dinner.

But nothing can compare to being home and sharing these experiences together, in person, at the dinner table, holding hands on an evening walk along the greenbelt every night as we watch the moon rise from its slumber and the sound of crickets & the twinkling of fireflies fill the night.

It's the same with my friends...they do their thing. We share on Facebook. We sometimes talk on the phone. But when I eventually see them, I sense the disconnect. We haven't shared our laughs & tears together, sat at the cafe, or sipped coffee, or talked over a beer in the backyard on a warm Sunday afternoon and the tasty smells of BBQ fill the air.

I am a ghost simply passing through.

I must give credit to my family for making every effort in making me feel loved and cared for on the weekends. But, alas, it's only healthy that we have our separate lives and interests even when I'm home on the weekends, too. But it's hard for me at times.

So, what do I do about this lonely bug?

I don't know.

But what I do know is that I need to appreciate every moment I have with the people I love. Cherish every word spoken when we're together. Savor their very presence and the air we breathe together. Relish every hug. Burn every moment into my memory...

And pack those memories into my ragged, overstuffed laptop bag as I board the 757 every week. And unpack those memories every Monday night and hang them on the walls in my mind. And visit those memories throughout my week as I walk along Broadway lined with trendy coffee shops & quaint eateries where people sit outside & share their lives together...

And fill my soul with those memories and know that I'll be home soon. And I'll have more precious memory cargo to pack with me for next week.

Until then...

I'll take all I can get in the now. In the moments I have with those whom I love dearly.

Morning Walk...

Here's a little bit I wrote while living in Upstate NY last spring... Enjoy! :)

I'm up early this morning- I take the dog for a walk
We move through the neighborhood at a healthy pace 
The streets lined with manicured lawns Driveways bear the delighful witness to children's imagination through sweet colors of faded chalk 

I smile.

We stop at the park 
I feel the warm sun on my face 
My dog lifts his leg 
My mind quickly invaded with thoughts of bills and budgets and deadlines and datapoints and meetings to be had... 

Barraged by the mundane. 

A sudden breeze picks up 
Trees dance, leaves whistle, my hair falls in my face. 
A permeating scent of pine floods my senses. 

I smile again. 

T'was a lovely interruption.