Sunday, December 31, 2017

Dear Mom (Dec 31/17)

Sun, Dec 31/17

Dear Mom,

Today marks the end of "2017". It has been a year I will never forget...

I have been grateful to be spending this time in your home. It is the last time "you" will play host to me. It's been relaxing and so peaceful here as I have squandered these days away.

It's been beastly cold and as I wavered between staying or going yesterday, I could hear you say, "Stay another day...what do you have to hurry home for?" So I stayed.

I had hoped the extra day would give the weather a chance to break but it doesn't look like that is going to happen until tomorrow. What would you say about that?

I've puttered away a little bit while I've been here. Nothing extraordinary and I most definitely didn't break a sweat. But a wipe here, a swipe there and I stumbled upon a glass picture of an owl in a downstairs window. I think I'll bring it home with me...

As I sat still and gazed out your living room window to enjoy the view you saw evolve over the years (and most especially this past one), tears fell from my eyes. I've been wandering through these days as if I were you, taking everything in, listening to the walls speak .

Laughter and voices of those who have come through these doors are ringing in my ears. Your home holds so much history. Laughter, joy, pain and sorrow ... but most of all, this house lives and breathes "family".

A family united. Throughout it all, you were the constant. So many people came and went. Company was welcomed with open arms - "Everyone brings joy to this house ... some when they come ... others when they leave". This slightly paraphrased plaque Trev gave you said it all.

You welcomed everyone who came to call. Everyone. The coffee was always on, even if it wasn't coffee. "A cuppa...", as May would say.

Derek's family were going to be your last guests. At first, you were simply resigned to the idea even though you weren't up to company. You perked up when you decided you would like to have an assortment of fruit to offer them. You chose the selection - pineapple, strawberries, grapes, banana. "Don't get them yet, though. Wait until the day before they arrive..."

I never did pick up that fruit. You ended up in the hospital the morning Derek's family was due to arrive. Throughout your hospital stay and (almost) until your dying day, you kept asking me if I had picked up that fruit yet.

A host to the bitter end. That was who you were. Your door was open, the coffee was on and your offer of a "B & C" (bed and coffee) was always available.

Your clock would be chiming 8:00 right now. Your walls are talking to me again. I can hear your voice as we called it a night. "What time shall we say? 8 o'clock?", as we decided a reasonable time to get up the next morning.

I remember those last mornings when I sat at your table, watching for your bathroom light to come on, signalling the beginning of another day with you. It didn't happen. I knew it wouldn't, but I wished for it so...

I think of you every time your clock chimes 8 a.m. It isn't quite the same now that your clock is in my home but it is close. The sense of smell can take you back to another time and place. The sense of sound is a close second.

I must pack up and remove all traces of my presence very soon now. I will be thinking of you. I will wear your angel on my shoulder for my drive home and hope you can guide me home safely.

I will miss you, Mom. Thanks for everything. You were everything to me. The idea of flipping the calendar page to a brand new year without you brings tears to my eyes.

Rest easy. All is well here on earth. We miss you (but the letting go is a little harder than it sounds).

All my love,
Colleen

Friday, December 15, 2017

I'm Listening...

I am desperately seeking direction right now. This morning, these are the messages that found their way into my consciousness:

Compliments of my daily email compliments of ProjectHappiness.com, this was the first of four affirmations I was destined to read today:

2016: The Caterpillar
2017: The Cocoon
2018: The Butterfly

"Just when the caterpillar thought its life was over, it began to fly. Trust the seasons of your life ..."

Because I started following "Goalcast" on Facebook, the next three found their way into my line of vision:

"Always remember your focus determines your reality" ~ George Lucas 
https://www.goalcast.com/2017/12/14/george-lucas-star-wars-making-masterpiece/

"When the whole world is silent, even one voice is powerful" ~ Malala Yousafzai
https://www.facebook.com/goalcast/videos/1672631226147394/?hc_ref=ARSgRXLr3ol3zjNRmRxKpxZTGXhkmqtfnyH01H6jF4X3KBb-bcXa771BHXkLRv82Ieo&fref=nf

"It is not over. Matter of fact, it just begun" ~ Lisa Nicols
https://www.facebook.com/goalcast/videos/1669663696444147/?hc_ref=ARSgRXLr3ol3zjNRmRxKpxZTGXhkmqtfnyH01H6jF4X3KBb-bcXa771BHXkLRv82Ieo&fref=nf

I must be at the beginning of something brand new. Is this how a butterfly feels before it works its way out of its cocoon? If so, I must commend that fragile butterfly for continuing to forge ahead when it must feel uncomfortable and scary.

Change is on its way. I am not a big fan of change...

Tuesday, December 12, 2017

The Dreams are Coming ... (where is my field?)

Life feels overwhelming when you think too hard. I have been trying not to force my thoughts. When I finally relaxed, the right kind of thinking replaced the fear, the anxiety and all the negativity that has been sneaking into my thoughts lately.

The last real conversation I had with Mom, about my "ten year plan", continues to weigh on my mind. 

Life is a fickle thing and we never know what tomorrow may bring, let alone ten years. The mere thought of my need to direct my focus onto "what's next" when my employment situation changes is daunting.

As I headed my car in a westerly direction towards Edmonton last weekend, thoughts wafted in, around and through my mind. 

I keep coming back to the "Oakes Place". A bed and breakfast. A place for reunions to happen. Perhaps a sideline of pampering and a friendly coffee place for the off season. A little oasis in the quiet of the Saskatchewan prairies.

A diamond in the rough. I cannot let go of the idea of wanting to build an investment out of little to nothing. I want to build a future the way my grandpa did. I cannot let go of the fact that the quarter section of land I inherited was bought for $1,000.00 back in 1938. It has been sold for 150 times that amount almost 80 years later. How can I invest in something that will retain its value and (hopefully) appreciate in value that exceeds the cost of living?

Retirement accommodations ... housing that could provide independent living, yet provide one roof which would house areas to promote socializing, quiet reflection, recreation and nourishment. A miniature version of where my aunt lives in a scaled down, small town way.

I don't want my "ten year plan" to include pounding the street to find employment outside of my home. I'm already pushed to my max right now, leaving our home on an (almost) daily basis to earn a living. I'm working for people I know well, I'm doing what I want to do but I don't love doing it. Because I'm not really my own boss. 

I want to recreate the "daycare dream" where my home provided not only shelter and a place to live, but it housed my place of employment. People came to me. I earned a very good living from home. Self employment brought out qualities in me that I never would have found, if I had never worked on my own.

The answer is somewhere within these thoughts. I'm not in a hurry. I have the luxury of not having to rush the process.

I have a feeling I'm already "living the dream". I just have to relax and let the ideas come to me. If I build it ... they will come. My field of dreams may be closer than I know.

Wednesday, December 6, 2017

Impossible Things

Getting out of bed in the morning is getting harder with each passing day. Leaving the house became so hard yesterday, I stayed home.

I went to bed last night knowing I could not play hooky another day. I had to leave the house. Early. But I had so much to do. It was going to be sooooooo hard.

Six impossible things to do before breakfast:
  1. Snow to shovel
  2. Hair to wash ...
  3. ... resulting in a bathroom to vacuum ...
  4. ... so why not vacuum the rest of the house while I'm at it
  5. Lunch to make
  6. Recycling and garbage to go out
I did it. I did it all. I sat down with my coffee and morning smoothie knowing the hardest part of the day was behind me.

All I have left to do is:

     7. Leave the house

Life is hard. I don't think I like December. It seems to me last December felt much the same. No wonder people go south for the winter.

But then again, I'd have to leave the house.