I Read a Book (I Read a Book!!)

I got a few new-to-me books for Christmas. Yes, I received the best kind of book there is to get. A book that has been read, enjoyed, studied, approved and passed along. A pre-approved book. Best gift ever!

I sat down with both books at my side yesterday morning, waiting for them to speak to me.

I had leafed through one as soon as I received it. Great book! Great ideas! Good motivation!! I'll wait until the New Year and then I'll take action, is what I thought. Why not start yesterday? It is a pick up and start anywhere kind of book. Why not now?

That book didn't speak to me yesterday.

So I picked up the second book. I read the forward. I read the back cover. I leafed through the first chapter. I read the last chapter.

I flipped and flopped my way through this book. But I had to try too hard. I really, really wanted to curl up with a book and lose myself and my thoughts in it.

That book didn't speak to me either.

I wandered into a most excellent reading room. Our abandoned upstairs bedrooms are having a hard time defining themselves. I loosely refer to them as "the spare room"; "the TV room"; and "Mom's room". As I directed my son towards what he was looking for the other day, he didn't understand my code. Our upstairs bedrooms are looking for an identity.

Yesterday, I further identified "the TV room" (the room with a TV; a folded out futon awaiting guests; Mom's love seat; a closet filled with tax papers, Mom's books and spare linens; and Mom's bedroom trunk - what would YOU call it?) as a very good place to read. I grabbed my coffee, a blanket and waited for one of the many books within the room to speak to me. And one did ...

"Life as We Knew It" - Dad's family's book of history, memories and stories almost jumped out of the bookshelf and into my hands. I have two copies. My copy and Mom's copy. I opened the cover and found my handwritten message to Mom:

"Mom, 'You' are my inspiration. Listening to you tell your stories my whole life has led to 'stories like this' ... Thank you for all of your suggestions. If it wasn't for you telling me to talk to friends and neighbors, this book would not be what it is. I think 'this' is good (at least good enough). ~ Colleen"

The idea was born the fall of 2008; seeds were planted throughout the following six years; by fall of 2014, "the book" was finally (finally!!) in the hands of Dad's family.

I spent hours days weeks reading, rereading, rewriting, editing, re editing and scouring those pages for errors before I sent the final, FINAL copy to the publishers and felt the book was ready enough to print. I held that book in my hands and I felt like I had accomplished something. My heart and soul went into those pages.

Suddenly I reheard my thoughts. My heart and soul went into those pages? This book was NOT about me. It was about Dad's family. Oh no! What had I done? I had put too much of myself into this project.

I tried to read it. I picked up the book after it was printed off for posterity. I found errors. I went through all 55 copies of the book to correct the errors I had found. I had to stop reading before I found any more mistakes. I corrected the main document and I have ordered 12 more books since that date.

Whenever I picked up the book, I could only read it as an editor. I have used it as a reference and gone to it to look up information. But I couldn't just read it.

Yesterday, I read it.

And it was good. It was just fine. Just the way it was. I read the book like any member of our family and I actually enjoyed it.

Of course I had the inside scoop within the stories that were told and I think the reason I actually did find myself inserting myself into the book, was to give the reader the feeling I felt as I collected and assembled the stories. I tried to put the reader in my shoes as I gave each chapter a quick overview so the reader wouldn't have to read every word to get the essence of the pages which followed. It was okay.

The pages which followed were stories right out of the mouths of the story tellers. I heard the voices of my uncles and had fond memories of the laughter and the visits we had as I collected these memories. As I read the words, I remembered more of the conversation and hoped it hadn't been omitted. It hadn't. I may have reordered some of those memories but they weren't forgotten.

I defined myself as "Collector and assembler of memories", which is a very apt description of the role I played putting these memories down in writing and recording them for generations to come.

As I scanned the photos inserted into our collection of memories, I couldn't help but stop a little longer at the more recent pictures. One picture in particular, taken in 2007, a 50th anniversary of one of Dad's brothers. Eleven years ago. Ten people in the photograph. Four have died. Three of those four contributed memories which were included in our book of family history.

"This" is why it is so important to follow through on an idea. "This" is why it is vital to write things down. "This" is why it is important to say what you want people to hear. "This" is why we must set things free when they are less than perfect. "Good enough" was the phrase I had to live and breathe as I let this project go.

These were the words I wrote as I sent this book off to press:

It is hard to say 'good-bye' to this project but its time has come. I must let go and set it free. I hope you can feel the pleasure I had putting this together as you read the words. If you can ... my work here is done. This is not "The End". It is simply "Good Enough"  ... (for now)

I reread those words as a reader (not a writer) and I believe "good enough" WAS enough.

Home for Christmas (and loving every moment of it)

Life has been quiet. I have been on holidays for eight days and I haven't strayed far from home other than absolutely necessary. It has been ... perfect.

My life has evolved over the course of the past several years. From daycaring, to Momcaring, to the year which followed. A year of work, rest and a LOT of vacation time away from home.

I'm a homebody. I love home. I love quiet. I feel like I could envelope myself within this tiny little world and it would be enough. 

I keep beating myself up for not having the ambition I "should" have. Where has it gone? Will it return? When do I start "filling myself up" by achieving small goals and tending to everything within this oasis I call home?

These are the conversations with myself:

"The Year of Mom" took a toll. I came home to work, regroup, tend to what needed tending and then went back to Mom's. Rinse and repeat. Over and over. I did this until it didn't need to be done.

Then I rested.

"The Year After Mom" took its toll in its own way. Who was I if I wasn't looking out for Mom's best interests? Before and after her death, Mom was my priority. I could hear her words and remember her eyes as I mulled over conversations of the past. Mom accompanied me through that time long after she left our world. She was a force to be reckoned with. 

After I had done all I could do, I broke. I fell into a million tiny pieces and I had to put them together each and every morning to do what had to be done. I slept. I worked. I ate. Rinse and repeat. Over and over. I did this until it didn't need to be done any longer.

I started to become whole throughout the last part of the year. I woke up in one piece each morning and my feet didn't feel as heavy. I could do hard things and get through the days. I still lived for the weekend though. My definition of a perfect weekend is a weekend when I don't have to leave home. Home is where I most want to be. 

I vacationed. I didn't think I could. But I did it. I made plans. I followed through. I had fun while I was away from home and enjoyed every moment of the experience. But coming home was still the highlight. Home. There is no place like it!!

Then came "Christmas". Holidays without a plan. I have anticipated these holidays like no other. Time off work with no place to go, no expectations, no needs to be met. Christmas at home was the perfect gift at the end of this second Christmas without Mom.

I knew I should accomplish something with this time. I should paint. I should organize and cull the excess. I should write. I should, I should, I should ....

The "shoulds" started screaming at me. I heard little else until I shut them down. I would stay home. I would buy groceries. We would eat well throughout my time off. I would follow my whims and see where they took me.

They haven't taken me very far.

I have spent one day "Netflixing". I spent another day glued to an addictive "Word Wipe" game trying to beat my highest score. I have spent endless hours following the Internet path of where my curiousity takes me. I have done up a "preliminary 2018 income tax return" and know where I stand with my taxes. I read a book. 

I made turkey soup with Thanksgiving Day turkey broth. I boiled up Christmas Day turkey bones for soup broth at a later date. I have cooked a few meals. I have assembled easy-to-grab sandwich fixings for lunch. I made breakfast Christmas morning. I have supplied food for the season and it has been good.

I have talked with three friends. I have emailed a few relatives. I called my uncle Christmas morning. Even within this fortress of solitude, I have brought friends and family into my safe little bubble. All, while sitting here in my pj's. I have been having the time of my life.

I've said it before and I'll say it again. 

I'm a homebody. I love home. I love quiet. I feel like I could envelope myself within this tiny little world and it would be enough. 

I know enough to be careful what I wish for. What if "this" was all I could have? What if I didn't live in a world where invitations, interaction, work obligations, friends and family weren't at my fingertips? Would this be enough?

I know it wouldn't be. I know I have this incredible peace within me because I have a sense of purpose combined with strong, safe relationships with people outside of my tiny little bubble. 

My bubble wrapped little world. I'm not taking may risks here yet. I'll keep taking one forward step at a time. Peace and contentment first. The rest will follow ...

Perfectly Wonderful

The last few days have been simply ... wonderful.

A Christmas supper invitation took us down the country roads towards my Second Son's home. The sky was blue, the morning's fog had lifted and left the outdoors covered in hoar frost. It was picture perfect drive.

Our Christmas day was a perfect mix of everything one could hope for. A delightful visit, a most excellent meal and I couldn't have wished for more.

We left home about 2:30 and returned shortly after 9:00 p.m., a perfect amount of time away from home for a short Christmas getaway.

This morning started similar to another recent holiday morning. My Second Son told me he was planning to come over and help me out with a few things around the house. Yay!!

I found myself a friendly neighborhood handyman but he has taken ill. I had a small list of things to do (and the list seemed to grow while my son was here). Installing windshield wipers, a back door light, some blinds and hanging some pictures took care of the time my son had available to tend to my wish list.

I managed to put together a late lunch before he had to leave and I've had turkey bones from yesterday's meal simmering on the stove for the better part of the day. It smells a lot like Christmas around here.

I've taken down our Christmas decorations but they were up long enough. Long enough to breath in the season, take in the lights and add a little sparkle and shine to our home.

It was a low key Christmas. But it was perfect. It was enough ...

Christmas Morning

'Twas the morning of Christmas

and all through our home

nothing was stirring

not even this poem.

No stockings are hung

but I've hidden a few.

I'll top up their contents

in an hour or two.

Me in my pj's

the cats are astir

Kurt is still sleeping,

this rhyme's goin' nowhir ...

Our little family doesn't have any solid Christmas traditions. Gifts are low on the priority list and any gathering of the family is simply a bonus we enjoy as it unfolds. 

"No expectations = no disappointment" was my motto as I tried to raise my family not to set the bar too high on these hyped up holidays.

I woke up to a cat pawing and pawing at me as he vied for my attention this morning. Usually a quick scratch behind his ears will send him off to his corner of my bed in a contented sort of way. Not this morning. He bugged and pestered me until I finally got up.

"It's Christmas morning and he doesn't want me to sleep in!" I thought to myself as I started moving into the day. I thought our kitty cats had somehow enveloped the Christmas spirit and wanted me to get stirring in anticipation of the day ahead.

It turned out their food dish was empty.

I filled their bowl and stepped into the morning. And so Christmas day begins. A day like most others, with a supper invitation tacked onto our agenda.

A morning filled with little gestures of Christmas has set the tone for a day which will, no matter where it goes from here, will turn out to be a perfectly fine Christmas Day.

No matter what your Christmas traditions and expectations may be, I wish you a day which you can unwrap as it comes along and enjoy the small gifts hidden within this day.

Home for the Holidays - Second Day Better Than the First

I have developed a "Go With the Flow" attitude which I attempt to adopt into every corner of my life (renamed "Go With Flo" during a recent holiday with a good friend). I must tell you, everyone should adopt "Flo". She is a pretty good partner to have around no matter where in the world one finds themselves. The theme of my time off during this holiday season is to simply go with "Flo" and if today is any indication, Flo is a mighty fine holiday planner.

My day started with an early morning text that read "Just leaving ... I'll bring breakfast". Now if that isn't a perfect start to a day, what is?

The bearer of our breakfast meal was my Second Son. He was coming over to work on a role play assignment, with his Younger Brother. This was going to be a very good day ...

And it was.

I got to watch the creative process unfold as the two put their heads together to create the backdrop for this videotaped role play assignment. It was like watching a reenactment of their childhood. A car door was a required prop and when a spare car door didn't make its way into the day, massive amounts of cardboard made their way upstairs from my Youngest Son's room.

The props were pure improvisation. The script was followed with acting flourishes which (being on the inside loop), I fully appreciated. Last minute additions of a "drive along" had me in the back seat listening in on my Second Son ad-libbing his way along.

But the best part? Watching my two boys filming a small segment which would be dubbed into the final production (which had been filmed in our downstairs "movie studio"). This particular scene took place in my Youngest Son's car which is conveniently parked in front of our living room window.

I couldn't hear a thing. I could only watch their actions and facial expressions.

The scene was filmed, they stopped and watched the clip and they laughed. It took three takes. Each take resulted in smiles and laughter. The moment the camera was off, they were "on". Smiling, laughing and simply enjoying the process, the moment and each other.

I snapped a picture of the two of them in my head and quietly "photo-shopped" my Firstborn Son into the frame (he is presently holidaying somewhere near the equator). 2018 will officially be "The Year my Boys Became Brothers".

It started with Son One and Son Two taking on the West Coast Trail together (along with one girlfriend and an aunt to add more stories to the tale). Long story short, they survived. And so did their relationship.

Fast forward a few more weeks and it was the Family Reunion of Great Brother Bonding. My three boys did such a fine job bonding, they adopted a Fourth Brother to the mix. There are many fond memories that accompany this story but in the interest of brevity, I will simply say there was a new dimension added to the brotherhood of my three boys, who span twenty years age difference from youngest to oldest (my "adopted son" fit snugly right into the middle somewhere so he was obviously a good fit).

This Time of Great Bonding was enhanced by a decision made (quite possibly while "under the influence", but the act itself was carried out while all were stable and of sound mind) to go sky diving together.

I wasn't there to witness the event but there is ample video and photo footage available to prove it took place.

These events have been interspersed with communication between my three sons where I have not been the middle man. They are making plans among themselves and I hear about it afterwards or when I am invited to join.

My boys are becoming "brothers".

Coming from a family where my siblings mean the world to me, watching this bond very tenuously start to form warms my heart from the inside, out.

There are sixteen years between my oldest sister and my younger brother and our bond is strong, true, tried and tested. It is the real deal. My siblings are THE best gift Mom and Dad gave me.

It is a small wish, but if dreams were to make wishes come true ... this is truly the wish I would like to bestow upon my family of three (four, if we count my adopted son).

May this bond grow in time, may it develop an elasticity to adapt to the many changes over the years ahead and most of all, may they strive to strengthen that which is in its early stages.

There is truly no better gift than the way this day unfolded. I am grateful ...

Home for the Holidays - Day One

I have just sat back and savored my first day of holidays. How does one spell relief? "A-H-H-H-H!! Home. Truly, there is no place like it.

I am not one who is wrapped up in the Christmas hype. I prefer to "gift" when I see a need, a want or a wish I can fulfill. I prefer to "cook" when the stars align and I have food in the house and company over at the same time. I do NOT prefer to "bake" at all, but I don't mind buying a few shortbread cookies. And writing ... "this" is where today's story begins.

I have all but stopped writing. I felt like I was wielding a poison pen and spewing raw emotion and negativity. So I stopped cold. I didn't blog, I didn't journal, I rarely email and I no longer write my weekly letter to Mom. I thought my thoughts had dried up and withered away.

Then I wrote one Christmas card.

The magic of feeling like I was sitting down and visiting the person I had addressed the card to returned. My pen flew across the page without thought or design. I just sat back and visited. And it felt a little bit wonderful.

I refused to turn this card-writing thing into a job, so I just wrote as names came to mind. I didn't make a list. I simply wrote. I wrote seven cards. Then I quit. I sat down a few mornings later and wrote four more cards. Then another. Then a few more. And another today. It not only "didn't hurt", but it actually felt good to sit and write. Very good.

In the spirit of the holidays, I (finally) decided to bring up our (very small) Christmas tree today. I brought out a favorite decoration.

Then my collection of angels. And one string of lights. Then I sat back and simply enjoyed the flavor of Christmas which has now been lightly sprinkled around the house.

Good enough!

I have spent my first holiday of the season accomplishing a few minor tasks. If I can just keep puttering away throughout this holiday, I may be able to start tackling more as the days gain momentum.

I am over the moon to be home for the holidays. No pressure. No worries. Just putting one foot in front of the other and savoring the moments as they arise.

It was a good day. I cannot wait to see what tomorrow brings...