Almost There

Our days are now officially longer than our nights.

The sun feels warmer.

The snow is melting even on days when it feels too chilly to make a difference.

I feel like a child who is continually asking "Are we there yet?",

on a seemingly endless drive.

Wishing, hoping, waiting for more sunlight and warmer days.

Waiting for the snow to melt.

Waiting 

Hoping

Dreaming of spring

We are almost there.

Memories of my daycaring days waft through my mind when I take in this view

Days when being in the presence of children forced me to be still and savor the moment

I feel like I'm wishing my life away,

continually wondering "Am I there yet?".

As if some elusive destination awaits.

How about if the destination is "today"?

What if today is the day we have been hoping and waiting for?

And tomorrow is the same?

And so on and so forth.

Living in the present tense sounds like the best plan I know.

What do you find yourself hoping for?

Could it be wrapped up in "today" if you look for it?

I know nothing. 

I simply feel tired of waiting.

The time has arrived to enjoy the longer days and the warmer sun.

I believe there is a sunbeam out there calling my name.

Is it calling you too?

Other People's Stories

I feel like my thoughts are on mute a lot lately. I am on the outside, looking in. Remaining quiet. Holding onto confidentiality. Protecting the privacy of others. Silent.

Every once in a while, I feel the need to talk to someone who doesn't know any of the characters in my story. I just need to hear my words outside my own head so they stop churning around and around. So many words but in reality, very few lucid "thoughts".

I remember feeling this way throughout Mom's last year. "This is not my story" I would tell myself again and again. I was playing a supporting role and thankfully I shared the part with others. We would talk among ourselves, each knowing the part well. We supported, we listened, we had an opportunity to "be real" with each other. We could lean in and be vulnerable, knowing someone had our back. We weren't alone.

Once again, I am cast in a supporting role. This time is different. I don't share the part. I have no other cast mates walking the walk with me. I have strong support systems but I walk this particular walk alone.

I write these words and my thoughts go back to Mom, as they often do.

Throughout Mom's last year, she still played the role of "mom" very well. Strong, as strong as she could be. Fiercely independent, as much as possible. She was still very much a mother. She cast our worries aside, as (I believe) the last thing she wanted was pity. She didn't enjoy conversations that revolved around anyone's ill health, let alone her own. Yet she was dying. She knew this. She spoke of it in a manner of fact way. She didn't like words that veiled the truth. Palliative care. Passing away. Just say what it is. "I'm dying".

She said the words, yet I never felt her falter. She was my mom until the end. 

Though we were there at her side as much as we could be and she would allow, she walked that walk alone. No one knew what it felt like to be her. As much as we tried, we didn't know.

I well remember the look she shot me when I tried to guess what she may be feeling. If she didn't say the words, her eyes certainly did. "Don't tell me what I'm feeling..."

We didn't know. 

We don't know what others are dealing with. Ever. We can try and put ourselves in their shoes. But no on really knows.

As we walk through our days, if we spread kindness, extend grace to those who may be fighting a battle we are unaware of, do what we can, when we can ... if we do our best (and our "best" may change by the minute, hour or day), take the lessons learned along the way and simply keep waking up to the next day and doing it all over again ... it is enough.

The Gift of Independence

Our independence is something we tend to take for granted while we have it.

When we wake up each morning and know we can make our way through the day ahead of us with a laundry list of mundane tasks we can do without thinking, we are fortunate.

When we have the ability to get out of bed with ease and our bodies do what we have come to expect them to do, we are blessed.

When we can remember what happened a few minutes or hours ago, we are rich beyond our wildest dreams.

When life unfolds in a relatively expected manner day after day, we are living the good life.

Mom's fierce determination to live an independent life was hard fought and she won the battle. Mom lived in her own home until her final days.

We were so fortunate Mom's determined self sufficiency worked out the way she hoped and persevered to make happen.

I hear Mom's words within my thoughts a lot these days. She knew. She knew ...

Mom? I hear you. I hope the next roads I follow within this little life of mine lead me to become as strong and determined as you always were.

Baby Steps

I set a goal for myself on Sunday:

To have an "Intentional Day".

A day without TV, computer or cell phone. 

Unplug and set my intentions on "something".

My goal? 

To make these boxes disappear from the living room:

So what did I do?

I took out the pot I use to boil potatoes.

I replied to a few emails.

I picked up a book and read. 

All day.

Until 4:00

I sprung into action when my adult child stepped into the shower

 and forewarned me it would be a long one.

Aha! A goal at last:

See how much I can do for the time it took to shower.

Step 1 - Peel and boil potatoes; start supper preparations

Step 2 - Empty the living room of the wall-full-of-boxes

Step 3 - Vacuum

Step 4 - Assemble supper

Step 5 - Relax and enjoy the meal

I succeeded in my mission:

Next weekend's goal? 

Find a home for and empty a box.

One box at a time.

Baby steps are better than no steps at all.

Grateful For Deadlines

As the number of piles continue to grow and multiply within my work-at-home space, instead of feeling overwhelmed, I feel grateful. Grateful for deadlines.

I have a large work table with several works-in-progress; work completed but yet to be submitted; papers-to-go; almost done; calls-to-be-made; information to have at-the-ready when calls come in; and my perennial to-do-list [note-to-self: make a new to-do-list. The old one is almost all crossed off!!].

As I mentally review these piles, there is great satisfaction in knowing most of them MUST be dealt with before the month's end. I'm so very grateful for deadlines!

A busy spring season is in store and I will need to be on my A-Game to keep on top of the day-to-day, monthly work that will arise from the busyness of our business. Having dates that cannot wait will keep me on task.

One set of deadlines rolls right into the next. All I can do is look into the horizon and wonder when there will be a lull in the action. Every reprieve will be consumed by a new set of must-do-items for as far as I can see.

As I sit here and blur my eyes over this little life of mine, I find myself wishing for this, that or the other thing that would help relieve some of the pressure I see in the forecast. Be careful what you wish for ... 

Everything that would help create extra space to create the illusion of making things better comes at a cost. Everything.

So this morning, I shall simply be grateful for the deadlines that will empty my work table one task at a time. 

This too, shall pass. The good, the bad and the ugly. Nothing lasts forever. Except perhaps (?) the ongoing deadlines in the world of bookkeeping and accounting. 

Thank goodness for deadlines!

Meeting at the Watering Hole

Our water outage saga continues. It has been almost two weeks since it all began.

Our water has been off, then back on, then off again. Then on again. Off again. On again. Again and again and again. 

I found the green tag deeming our water to be safe to drink three days ago. All our spare water jugs were replenished with safe drinking water and our back up water reserves were full.

Then the water went out last night. And stayed off. 

I have discovered one thing during our water shortage. It takes 8 litres of water to flush our toilet. I emptied two, 4 litre water jugs this morning to do just that. Emptying that much water at one time made me feel a little vulnerable so I decided to take a stroll down the block and utilize the safe water supply (up to this point, I had been refilling our jugs at my aunt's but had no plans to go there today).

As I made my way to the water trailer and back, I spoke with three (yes!!! three!!!) different people. 

First was a City employee (who is working today fighting with this water dilemma), who had no idea our water was off. He said the other end of the block had no water but ours was supposed to be working.

Second, was someone from the area who is also dealing with water outages on (what sounds like) the opposite times of our on again/off again water outage. 

Then came a third from (who knows how far) down the street. They had just about given up on finding the water trailer when they spotted me coming home with my full jugs. When I pointed out where the trailer was located they decided to go home and drive.

I just looked out the window to spot a small group of other neighbors visiting on the street. 

After almost a year of relative isolation and staying-at-home, I cannot tell you how happy my heart feels to be meeting up with neighbors at the local watering hole.

The best things in life are free (and unexpected).

Here Comes the Sun

Sunrise is coming a lot earlier these days and seems to be kick-starting me into guilt much sooner than has been usual.

With the sun, comes a renewed sense of motivation. Or is it just guilt when one does not act upon it?

As per usual, I am having regular flashbacks to my daycaring days. I remember how the sun shining into the kitchen spurred me into action. Sunlight is not forgiving. Dirt, dust and grime shows up best when the sun is beaming in on it like a laser.

These days, our kitchen collects more dust and cat hair than anything else. Perhaps I should waking up a little earlier so I can utilize that sun superpower to my advantage. Open up doors, windows and blinds and deal with all the dust and cat hair it reveals.

Working from home comes with many advantages. One of them is the ability to make up for lost time on one end of the day or week. As long as the work gets done, it doesn't matter when I do it. 

Maybe I could fool myself into house cleaning if I cleaned on a week day and worked on a weekend. 

Maybe I could vacuum before I start work.

Maybe I could work fifteen minutes worth of dusting into a lunch break.

Maybe I should do something, rather than sit here and write my wish list like some mystical being would come and wave their magic wand and make all my wishes come true.

No matter what way I spin it, I am so happy the sun is waking me up and stirring my thoughts into action. 

Here comes the sun! The rest is up to me.

Three Bonus Days

February was quite literally the shortest month I have ever experienced. 

Not only was the month cut short by the extra two to three days we are accustomed to, but two of those precious days were Saturday and Sunday. All of my month end deadlines had to be met on or before February 26th.

It was a marathon. When I woke up on the morning of the 26th, I breathed a huge sigh of relief. All my February deadlines had been met.

Then I woke up to March. More deadlines, a never ending line up of work-to-do and continually playing "catch up". A sense of weariness washed over me.

Then I counted the week days March has in store. I have 23 week days to complete the jobs I have on hand. Three bonus days!! 

Eureka! I felt as though I had struck gold.

March marks the beginning of the end of winter. I well remember how I felt when March rolled around when I was daycaring. We would find ways to navigate the mud and grime from the melting snow and we would go outside as much as we could. I would quite literally park myself in a sunbeam and soak up all the Vitamin D I could endure.

March feels different this year.

It marks the one year anniversary of when most of us were impacted by COVID-19. It celebrates the beginning of the end of what could have felt like the longest winter in history. Not only is spring on the horizon but vaccinations and a ray of hope is emerging with the sun.

March will bring its share of surprises, unexpected weather and events. We never know what tomorrow will bring. But can I be very selfish for a moment and add "If you are working within the world of accounting, deadlines and numbers ... you have three extra days to complete your job this month. Yee haw!!"

Then ... we will wake up to April. The month where spring is in the air, the hours of sunshine are far exceeding those of moonlight, dreams of summer are on the horizon and (yes) income taxes are due to be filed.

Deadlines make the world go 'round. It is the world's way to help us appreciate those bonus days whenever we can.

Breathing in the Moment

 I woke up in a deeply feeling mood this morning. 

The kind of mood where I can hear the world speak to me through my daily meanderings through various blogs I follow.

I found the answer to the question "Why did you keep going back to your marriage?" within a blog post written by Allison Fallon: "There are moments where I am wondering what I have done wrong and why nothing I tried would fix any of it. Fix him. Fix me so he could love me. Fix me so I could love him."

That's "it"! That is exactly it. Written by someone who has walked a parallel walk. Someone who has the ability to put words to my thoughts. Precisely. Exactly. 

This is why our world needs artists. Those who can create, write, sing, paint and illustrate the world as they feel it so we can all find our connectedness within the thread that is woven into the art.

I am growing weary of this tired little life I am living. A life that feels wrung dry from the demands of my paid vocations. 

I am nourishing myself with potato chips, sweets, home renovation shows and Netflix. "Hope for Wildlife" has become my oxygen source. Watching a caring group of people rescuing, loving, reviving, saving and setting these living, breathing beings back out into their habitat is fueling a small spark I feel within me.

I admire Hope Swinimer's undying devotion to her passion. How caring for a robin that had been attacked by a cat was a step towards a future that has impacted the world around her, those who work with her and thanks to the marvel of television, spread the word to millions.

One incident. One person. Igniting the passion within.

I truly believe we all have a spark within us, just waiting to catch fire. 

I have had a hard time fanning the flame within me. I am a shell of the being I am capable of being. It feels as though my flame has been extinguished.

Then I have a morning such as this. A day where the world is reaching out and touching me. Truly, all days are just like this. The difference is this morning, my receptors are open to taking it all in.

If only my day job(s) didn't have to get in the way.

Perhaps that is why my daycare worked for me for so many years. I could wake up to a morning such as this and run with it with my little daycare crowd. We could go outside and breathe in the wonder of the world, stand in a sun beam and just marvel at the smallest of things...