Twenty Seven

Twenty seven has forever been a number I considered a good age to be. It sounds like a good age and it was a life-changing year for me. A year of beginning to make good decisions for myself and my family. 

I wrote these words and walked down memory lane for a while, to formulate the rest of what I had in my mind. Apparently I wrote everything I wanted to say before. I will attach those words rather than repeat them.

Today, is my youngest's 27th birthday. This is the last time I will celebrate this milestone year for any of my children. It will not be the last time I think of where my 28th year led.

My children, as individual as snowflakes. Each one's journey vastly different than the other's. 

My youngest has walked a walk I would have never predicted. Her personality has always been quiet and reflective. There is a lot going on underneath the surface. Just because she is quiet natured doesn't mean she doesn't have a lot to say.

It has take a lot of work to get to this age. Life has many more lessons in store. My wish for you, is no matter where life takes you, remember all you have learned along your way. Your foundation is being laid one block at a time. Start from where you are and build the life you most want to live.

Today is the first day of the rest of your life...

Wednesday, September 3, 2014

Twenty Seven

Twenty seven always sounded like a good age to me. Twenty seven simply seemed like it was a 'perfect' age. Both in the years that preceded reaching that goal and the (almost) twenty seven years after attaining it.

If someone woke me from a deep, dark coma and asked me how old I was, there is a fairly good chance that my answer would be "twenty seven" because I felt that age for decades. I would be surprised to look at a document that had my age in black and white and it said "forty seven" for all the world (and me) to see. Forty seven?! I would be taken aback for a moment before I realized that the numbers did not correlate with my inner state of aging.

For me, twenty seven was a year of making good decisions. That is not to say it was a great year. It was a tough year. Within a month of turning that magical age, I left my marriage (for the third and final time) and my dad died. Within two months of that same birthday, I moved my family-of-three (me, along with my nine year and four month old sons) to a new province and found a new home, job and daycare.

The drama that unfolded during the first and second month of turning twenty seven was daunting. Ending a marriage can be a volatile time and place. Things got explosive. It got ugly. Hearts and vows were broken, never to be the same again. Sometimes, things have to get worse before they get better. This was one of those times.

It was frightening to start over in a brand new world. I had abandoned a secure and long-time job, friends who knew and supported me, a house that was no longer a home (and a pile of material possessions within it) and my mom and brother. I came to a city where I knew my aunt and uncle (and a handful of cousins who I knew by name only). It was scary and lonely. But it was necessary. That moved changed my life and quite likely saved it at the same time.

During my twenty eighth year, I rebuilt our home. No, I didn't build it from scratch. I built it from within. The collection of donations which furnished our new home became serviceable items to eat, sleep and sit on. My life had been stripped bare and it was so plain to see, all that really mattered were my children. We were tucked away in a safe and quiet oasis of 'starting over'. It was exactly where we needed to be.

That twenty eighth year was the foundation on which everything that followed has been built. It was solid. It was a year of making good decisions. The benefits were yet to be seen and there would be some more rocky times to follow. But the year of being twenty seven was the basis on which I was rebuilt. It will forever go down in my own personal history as being my most life-changing year.

When my Oldest Son turned twenty seven, he was just starting a course which rerouted his life. He learned a trade which enabled him (not only) to pay his own way while he went to school, but it resulted in a job which has provided him the lifestyle to which he has aspired towards (quite likely, ever since my twenty eighth year, when he lost all of his worldly possessions, friends, community and family when I uprooted him from a life which was killing-us-softly). Twenty seven was his turn-around year.

At the same time, my nephew (who turned twenty seven, five months before my son) was taking some of his first steps towards his own personal goal. He was pursuing his career in comedy. He has taken that ball and ran with it. He is my hero. Not due to his success and fame. Simply because he pursued his dream and made brave and bold decisions to keep pursuing it. I would say he has done pretty well (but then again, I am pretty biased). To me, success is in the pursuit of your dreams - not necessarily attaining them. He started to make this choice his reality in his twenty eighth year.

Yesterday was my Middle Son's twenty seventh birthday. He has had some pretty lofty hopes and dreams. He has gone boldly where he has never gone before. Time and time again. Before his twenty eighth year, he started his own company. He gleaned an education from that experience which I challenge any university to rival. There is nothing like Life Experience to teach you things you will never forget. He bought and (with the help and support of His Girlfriend of many, many years) has moved onto their farm. They are building a 'life' quite literally from the ground, up. He has picked himself up and carried on, despite the odds. He  has experienced more in his first twenty six years than a lot experience in a lifetime. Because he is not afraid to try.

My son is heading into his twenty eighth year with a lifetime full of his own experiences. These very experiences which have taught him so much, have also left him a little gun shy. He has made a few adjustments to his life-as-he-knows-it and is also on the precipice of restarting something new (from an old experience).

Even though My Son is in a vastly different place than I was (or his brother or his cousin) as he steps into his twenty eighth year, I have a good feeling about this. Especially as I recall my own twenty eighth year as the foundation on which the rest of my life that followed, was built.

In my humble opinion, age twenty seven is a very good place to start. Happy Foundation Building Year, My Son. I can't wait to watch your year unfold.

Joy Spotting

I have stepped back from writing until I could refocus and see life through a different lens. Is it a coincidence that I started spotting joy after an eye appointment yesterday? Are my new glasses helping me see everything better? Perhaps ...

I didn't get my new (replacement) specs until the end of my eye appointment, which was followed by a dentist appointment a few hours later.

After turning the ringer off on my phone, I purposely looked up. I watched and listened to my surroundings. 

The first thing I focused on was a family of three - a mom and three children. One makes a lot of assumptions when people watching and I found myself believing these three were siblings and the adult was the mom. What I saw, was three children simply being themselves. 

The oldest hovered in the toy/book area with the youngest. The youngest was captivated by the books. Putting one away before pulling out another, sitting at the child sized table and taking in all there was to see within the pages. No hurry. Simple enjoyment. The middle child sat on the mother's knee. 

Each child was content in the moment they were in. The child who appeared to need the closeness of a parent was not being forced to join the others, go play or even be any further away from comfort than they needed to be. The oldest was not engaged in an active caregiver roll. My impression was that the oldest was kind of grateful for a younger sibling which gave them the excuse to play with the toys. The youngest was content in their independence, yet secure in the knowledge they were not alone. Siblings, comfort and safety was an arm's length away.

Bliss. Pure bliss. To watch a young family simply "be" together. 

Meanwhile, other patients were checking in and I simply sat back and absorbed the light rapport and kindnesses that were volleyed back and forth between patients and receptionists. Good manners, good humor, gentle words lightly seasoned with laughter. 

It was nothing. But it was everything.

The past three years, I have ventured out of the house as little as possible. When I did leave the security of home, I was armed with a face mask, hand sanitizer and a very healthy dose of physical distance between those inhabiting the same space. Many others wore similar armor. 

We can witness people's smiles again. Children can play with toys and books in a public space. The underlying fear of exposure to a force we could not see but was evidenced all around us has abated.

As I sat back and simply inhaled the moments watching people be people, I refocused on the joy of simple pleasures. People being people. Together. 

When we isolate ourselves and our main source of information is the news and news feeds we invite into our existence, we are seeing only a very narrow vantage point of an entire panoramic view. 

When our personal lives become focused on that-which-is-out-of-our-control, it is extremely hard to find the courage to let go and let life unfold. Life is a delicate house of cards. When we think we know the forecast, we try to find a way to manage the aftermath. Even when we aren't certain of the chain of events that may or may not take us down that road.

I have become hyper-focused on far too many situations that are out of my control. When I left the house yesterday, looked up and into the world and focused on the moment I was in. It was good.

It is time to focus on joy again. 

The Day the Computer Died

I was enjoying the moment. Finishing my first cup of coffee for the day, savoring the silence of the morning, taking time to be still and read some of the blogs I follow and allowing myself just a little more time before I forged into my Friday.

Suddenly, my computer sighed a momentary last breath. And died. On the spot. Poof. Done. With no battery back-up on this computer, I was certain this was the end.

I surveyed the situation in a manner similar to one's life flash before their eyes in the nanoseconds that followed. I hate to say it, but "Income tax!" was the first and foremost thought that crossed my mind. I have three returns started on this computer and would have to start from scratch. Not the end of the world. 

I pondered the thought of how quickly I could replace the computer. A used computer store had been a very good way to buy a computer for my little weekend oasis. I wondered what they had in stock and how expensive it would be. "It couldn't wait until May's budget, could it?", I wondered as I diligently work to pay off all credit cards to zero at the end of each month.

I wondered if anything on this computer could be salvaged. A computer-guy would have to wait. Replacing the computer was priority. 

It then dawned on me to unplug the computer, plug it back in again and try to turn it on. Amazingly enough, it worked!

My ancient computer slowly regained consciousness, took its time opening closed files and error messages seemed to be appearing out of nowhere. The email program couldn't send/receive emails. All the browser pages reopened but nothing could load. Ahhh! Slowly, I realized it was an internet issue. Not the computer at all.

Being slightly sluggish from the lack of caffeine in my system, I decided to check my work computer. Nope. No internet there either. "Day off!!" was my next thought. Yay!! By the time I made it back into the kitchen, I realized my tax program worked independent of the internet. I could still work on taxes. Relief and disappointment washed over me simultaneously. "All is not lost" and this is a good thing.

As lack of internet signal icon kept catching my attention, I realized it was just past 7 a.m. - too early to start working anyway! When the going gets tough, the tough grab a second cup of coffee and starts formulating a blog post on a Word document. Which brings you up to where I was seven paragraphs ago.

The internet came back up and all systems are "Go!" again. What must have happened, was a momentary power surge which resulted in turning off my computer with 0% battery availability and resulted in the internet having to reboot and restart. All is well enough in this happy little world of mine once again.

I thought it was the end of my computer's life and I didn't fixate on the worst of all outcomes. I just rolled with what I thought it was and carried on.

Is it maturity or exhaustion? I am content to believe my reaction stems from experience and knowing that all material issues such as this are easily remedied.

In the meantime, I'm charging up my phone in case of a power outage and will be calling my friendly neighborhood used computer store to find a replacement for my poor, burnt out and antiquated computer.  

This was a test. It was only a test. 

P.S. I have searched my financial archives and discovered this computer was purchased July, 2014 for the price of $803.00 

(I think I've gotten my money's worth)

Math Nerd

 It is a very good feeling to wake up early on a Saturday morning. What is most surprising to me is that I would actually opt to continue working today if I didn't have other plans. 

My work week ended on a good note (two uninterrupted work days resulted in two days tending math puzzles and spreadsheets which are my idea of fun). I actually have the desire to open my office door and carry on with my little math projects this morning (how does one define "nerd"?).

I tackled hard things within my home office setting this week and tamed the demons I knew were waiting for me bright and early Monday morning. There is nothing like slaying dragons to boost your adrenaline and enhance one's confidence level.

Oh, how those untamed dragons can deplete us. To run and hide from them takes an onerous amount of energy. To armor up, plan one's defense and take forward action? Exhilarating!

Numbers and me go back to my humble beginnings. I can picture Dad sitting at the kitchen table 'figgering' on paper and with his trusty little Arithma calculator ...

What I wouldn't give, to sit across that very kitchen table and talk with Dad again. "Whatcha figgerin', Dad?"

I feel a little less nerdy and a little more connected to myself and my genealogy when I remember Dad and his business sense. When I went through Mom's papers after she died, I found oh-so-many of Dad's calculations. His writing. His numbers. His thoroughness (I have the ledgers where he accounted for every penny spent, down to the cost of screws, for his farming deductions). I couldn't keep everything but I kept some.

I liked math in school. It made sense. Once you knew the basics and added layers of information onto that, it was relatively simple stuff. Black and white. Balance to zero. Checks and balances. Something I am always looking for within this little life of mine when I feel like I am on shaky ground.

If I hadn't gotten married and had a child as soon as I left home, I most likely would have chosen to pursue an education in accounting. What happened instead, is I became a bank teller and my career fell into my lap in the way it was intended.

Accounting and accountants without the personal touch of customer contact, face-to-face encounters and getting to know the story behind the numbers is not me. I didn't know this when I was 18 years old and entering the world of banking. I was shy and awkward. Customer contact was a skill I had to learn along the way.

My Grade Two teacher's comment in our school year book said simply, "Shy, except when she reads." Who knew this would translate into "Socially awkward, except when she works with numbers.", in my adulthood?

In my unwritten book "Defending My Life", I will defend my career path as the perfect fit for me. A mix of numbers and face-to-face interaction with customers taught me everything I needed to know. It was the foundation on which the rest of my working life was built.

A life of numbers without the personal touch isn't for me. Yes, you could lock me in a room with an Excel spreadsheet program and math puzzles to solve and I would be happy. But at the end of the day, I need my people.

No regrets. 

When you look back on your life, can you find the basis on which you built your "today"? Can you find solace in the choices made, which brought you to where you are? 

Even when the road is uncertain and one hits a few dead ends along the way, every detour has brought us to where we are right now. May you find comfort in knowing you are exactly where you are meant to be. Even when where you are isn't where you want to stay.

Living the Dream

As my first thoughts of the morning found their way onto my "morning pages", they felt scrambled, disconnected, fragmented and torn. It is Monday morning and quite literally, I have one foot in my weekend-oasis-aspiring-retirement-place-of-residence and the other foot is packing up to go back home to my work-week and home-life responsibilities.

During my weekend, I get to take off all of my "responsibility hats" and simply exist. Fill myself up with whatever is needed, soak up some solitude and a fair dose of selfishness and simply live a life of ease.

My weekdays are consumed with bookkeeping, senior care, cat care, household tending and part-time-parenting my independently-dependent adult child who is living at home.

One foot into a hopeful retirement goal, one foot planted firmly in reality. Earning a living, paying the bills, taking care of the needs of our home and those who inhabit it. 

It is easy to dream the dream of retirement aspirations. But the road that must be travelled between where I am and where I aspire to be is unknown territory. A lot of things will change between where I am and where I want to go.

As I wound up the last sentence of my morning pages, I wistfully wrote "I may already be living the dream and I don't even know it".

We don't know what tomorrow will bring. We could be paving the way to a future we are anticipating but not realizing "this", where we are today, the "before" is truly the dream. 

Challenging as our days may be, it is good to remember life-as-we-know-it could change on a dime. Take a moment to think of what it may take to transition from one phase of life to the next. It could be a wonderful thing. Then again, it could be a set of dire circumstances that upset the status quo.

I will do my best to appreciate "what is", this week. I will not dwell on the "what ifs". I will glance towards the horizon and hope each forward step takes me one step closer to what I think it is I hope for. But not lose the gift of the present.

Who knows? We could already be living our dream. Dreams shift, evolve and morph in unexpected ways. Such is life. Let's just take it one forward step at a time.

Shattered

Monday mornings are a jolt of reality infused into our lives whether we want it or not. Monday can feel hard. Harder yet, when your mode of transportation has been vandalized.

A broken car window was the catalyst of this week. This is what I swept off the ground and out of the car and all that remained of a rear passenger window:

I uttered orders like a drill sergeant. "Call work. Tell them what happened and that you will be late. File a police report. I'll clean this up."

Bam! Bam! Bam! We shot into action and went forward from there. 

The car, minus a window, was drivable. I stayed home and proceeded to make phone calls to track down replacement glass for a 26 year old obsolete vehicle. 

After calling and investigating every source I could think of, I thought the only answer was to replace the car. I have been seriously considering upgrading my own 19 year old car anyway. It just wasn't in the budget quite so soon. But perhaps it was solution to the problem.

One nudge from my son, telling me he had found a place that could order in and replace the window was all it took. Unfortunately I had misinformed him about which window was broken so the story did not end there. 

I took a lunch break and resumed my search. First phone call after my break, with a little more information to go on, and voila! The window replacement was found, ordered, delivered and installed 48.5 hours later. At a cost that was almost $80.00 cheaper than my son's original quote.

The service from Unique Collision and Glass was second to none. Every promise was delivered as expected. Plus they provided not only shuttle service to work but also delivered the car to my daughter's place of employment when the work was complete.

An act of vandalism (the window was merely smashed - the doors were not even unlocked, nor was the car ransacked in any way to indicate theft was the motivation) had the power to shatter the hope of a new week dawning. But it didn't break us.

Stories Within the Story

I watched the movie "The Color Purple" for the first time yesterday. I may be one of the very few who had not yet seen this 1985 movie. I'm a little behind the times. This story has been brought to my attention on several occasions over the past 35 years. Most recently, in light of the racial inequities that have been brought to light, I was once again reminded of "The Color Purple".

I was well into the story before I realized there had not been one Caucasian person enter the scene. I smiled when the first white character was introduced as a person who drove one sister to the her sister's home. I loved the irony - a white person driving a person of color. I later realized this "driver" was delivering the mail. But my original take on this minor character remained. He was a person serving them, not the other way around.

The story was based around the main character but had other strong characters and story lines. I loved Oprah's character, Sophie, who was strong minded and full of spunk. Until ... the scene where the white people dominated the screen, brought her to her knees and stole everything she was from her. When "whites" were introduced into the story line, they were the villians.

As I played out this scene and compared it to the realities minorities face each and every day, I was embarrassed to be part of a race who has committed such injustices.

I continued to reflect on the vantage point this story was told. I considered the different stories that could have played out, had the tale been told from a different person's vision of the same set of events. I dared to consider what the story could have been, had it been told from the white person's point of view. 

The slant of the story, the perspective, each individual's history places a different emphasis on how a story is told. The adage "there are two sides to every story" is an understatement. Each one of us is a compilation of our history, our perspective, our state of mind and health, who and what we may be protecting. When prejudice we have unknowingly been raised with and exposed to, plus racial biases are added to the scene, it is little wonder there is conflict within this world of ours.

Racial privilege is a term that is new to me. I hang my head in shame to think that my view of the world is so very small and with a privilege I simply happened to be born into. I think of the babies who come into the world and know only the life they have been raised in. They become adults with their own personal biases stemming from the vantage point of their circumstances.

I think of the very small life I have lived and I try so very hard to consider the story another would have told of the exact same circumstance, from where they stood. When I retell the stories of my life I am conscious to speak of the other person's vantage point. I strive to tell my stories so there are no true heroes or villains. But I know even at that, my view is tainted by personal bias, history and lack of a full understanding of the other person's side of a story.

Stories are told from the vantage point of the person narrating the tale. Seeing, hearing and feeling the narrative from the main character's point of view provides us with limited insight unless the story is told in a way to bring each character's perspective into focus (which, may I add, "The Color Purple" did an amazing job). It is up to the audience to mine for the gold that is hidden within a multilayered depiction of events. 

It would serve us well, if we dug deep to find the truths within the headlines of today's news and the stories we are told as we live our lives.

An often quoted adage going around the Internet these days is to be kind to each other. You have no idea what another person is going through. Or as Ellen Degeneres says, quite simply, "Be kind to one another". Without condition, without bias, without assumption. Just be kind. Look for the story behind the story.

Focusing on the Joy

I found this in my morning scroll through Facebook:

~ Ziad K. Abdelnour

Image from rawforbeauty.com

So much truth in such a simple metaphor.

One's perception of "life" is so often where one places their focus.

I watch videos of children misbehaving and getting attention for their actions. 

Then we wonder why children are acting the way they do?

I scroll past information I find "jump on the bandwagon and 'hate' this person".

So much energy is spent on spreading the hate. 

And we wonder why there the peace within the world is threatened?

The state of our economy, job security, the value of our dollar and concern about the future?

They are all very valid concerns. 

Every time I start worrying about that which is out of my control, I look inward and try to find some small way in which I can control my very small piece of the puzzle (which is quite possibly why I spend an extraordinary amount of time scouring my financial spreadsheet to analyze my spending patterns and try to adapt better habits to secure a better future).

There is so very much that is out of our control within our world.

But if we focus on what's important,

Capture the joy we find along our way,

Develop from the negativity that surrounds us,

And just keep taking another shot when things go wrong,

 We will create a mental "photo album" that brings as much peace of mind as we can muster.

Thank you, Facebook for bringing the good stuff to our attention. 

I do not apologize for the negativity I quickly scroll past.

I am placing my focus on that which enlightens me and brings me joy.

It makes living in my happy little bubble wrapped world a better place to be.

"Oh, to be 82 again!"

Yesterday was the 82nd birthday of one of my Senior Friends. As I announced this birthday to my other Senior Lady at the onset of the day she simply sighed, "Oh, to be 82 again!" There could be a short novel written into that simple statement, but long story short, if she could rewind the years to six years ago she would be thrilled.

Our age doesn't necessarily reflect all that is going on in, around and outside of our own personal experience here on earth. But an aging body does carry the risk of health and physical injury impairments as we go along our merry way living our happy little lives.

Mom once told me certain age parameters where health and mortality issues seemed to peak. If you made it past certain milestones (I wish I had a memory or had written down what she told me), your likelihood of living to the next milestone was higher. It seems to me that "50" and "60" may have been two of those milestones. I think "80" was another.

I came home from my day and climbed back into my predictable, comfortable and cozy little life when I heard from a friend. She is my age and I assume those who touch her world are close to the same age bracket. In one breath, she spoke of people close to her who had pancreatic cancer, numerous mini strokes (with the instruction from her doctors to go home and get her affairs in order) and another who had a stroke affecting one side. A mother-in-law (from a different age category) is fighting throat cancer. Her adult sons are fighting anxiety and anger issues.

Wow.

Suddenly I could hear the voice of my Senior Mentor in my head again, "Oh, to be 82 again..."

We don't know what our future holds.

When it comes to matters of health and aging, it could be safe to assume that we may never feel as good as we do at this very moment. Even if we aren't feeling all that spry right now.

When it comes to matters of contentment and peace of mind, we can always hope the future may improve situations which are lacking and will bring more of what we have, that is good. But things never stay the same. Life is ever changing and evolving. The longer we live, the more likely we are to face loss of those who are a vital part of our life.

Life is truly all about perspective. We reflect what we live as we live it. No matter where you are in the spectrum of living, loving and interacting within the world around you, take a moment to appreciate what you have. Rest easy in the assurance that no matter what you are living right now, you will never relive this exact moment again. Sometimes, but not always, that is a good thing.

If I was to take that statement and reword it to "Oh, to be [my present age] again!", would I look back and be pleased that I was living my life in a way which left a trail of happy memories, personal achievement and satisfaction that I was getting the most out of the life I have been given?

This gives me reason to pause and reflect. Is it time to fine tune my life a little bit so when I look back on these years, I will know I lived the best life I could at the time?

How about you? Where are you at? What do you hope to see when you look back at your life in a rear view mirror?

Just more little things that make me sit back and go "Hmmmm...."

Back to School!

Our students are presently enjoying either their last official day at school or their first day of summer holidays today and what did I find in yesterday's mail? A magazine advertising a large chain store with "Back to School" articles featured on the cover.

Honestly?

Is it not bad enough that you can start buying Easter candy right after Valentine's Day; Hallowe'en costumes in the middle of the summer; and Christmas descends upon the stores in September? Can't we give our kids the opportunity to seize the day and enjoy their first days of holidays without bombarding them with back to school advertising?

I remember how the time dragged when I was a kid. It felt like I would never get to the next grade and the wait from one school holiday to the next felt like an eternity. I felt like I was young for forever. Nowadays? Time seems to be going by quickly even for children.

Occupying every moment of the day, fast forwarding from one holiday to the next and simply being caught up in our present day world where we aren't truly present is detracting from simply enjoying the moment you are in.

Granted, there are times when I am grateful the moment doesn't last forever. But for those of you who are enjoying a first day of holidays, celebrating the completion of an onerous task or simply waking up to a day like any other ... may the world stop spinning for a moment so you can savor the good stuff.

21 Years

Twenty one years ago today, my youngest son was born. As I woke up this morning, thinking of this anniversary, I scrolled through my own personal archives and thought about my own life at the age of twenty one.

By the time I was 21, I had been married, had a baby, divorced, had worked at a bank for three years, bought a townhouse and then remarried my ex-husband. My siblings were ages 32, 30 and 16. All I remember about my actual birthday is that my brother gave me a special birthday gift to commemorate my 21st birthday. Mom was 53 years old; Dad was 56.

I lived a very sheltered and protected life until I married. I had a lot of life lessons thrown at me in a short period of time but thanks to a strong and supportive family, I weathered the storms and came out standing. I had lived a lifetime by the time I was 21.

I look at my youngest son and I see myself before the world started teaching me "all I needed to know". I look at my younger self and the words young, naive and impressionable come to mind. If someone had told me what was to come, I may have locked myself in a room and never come out. I wouldn't have thought I could handle it.

We all have different lessons to learn, new roads to travel and challenges that are unique to each one of us.

I look at my son and I am pleased. I like him. I like his style. I like his quiet demeanor which masks the deepness of his thoughts and his perspective of life. I see bits and pieces of the best of the people within his world intertwined within him, mixed with the essence that is "him" and I enjoy the person he has become and is becoming.

My biggest concern is wondering how he will weather the storms of life. He has had some tests but I know there will be more. He is a sensitive soul. He watches the world around him, listens with his whole being and his interpretation of life as he sees it opens my eyes.

None of us can predict the future that is headed our way. My biggest wish for him is that no matter where life takes him, he will have the ability to weather life's storms and come out standing. I want him to feel the strength and support of family. I hope he feels safe within his world and will always know he has a soft place to fall here within our home and family.

He is the youngest of three brothers with a twenty year age span which separates them. What I am liking best about the age he has become, is that he is starting to "catch up" with his older brothers. His brothers and him are doing things together which is starting to forge a stronger bond in their brotherhood. I didn't "catch up" with my older sisters until I became an adult and now the years that separated us don't even exist. I hope this bond grows and strengthens over the years to come.

They say that joy is doubled when it is shared and sorrow is halved. In good times and in bad, it is good to know you have a support system in place to cheer you on, cheer you up and encourage you through whatever moment you may be going through.

The wish I have for my youngest son is a wish I share with all three of my boys. I wish them a strong sense of themselves, grounded in what I hope is a strong sense of family. I wish for roots to ground them, while reaching for the stars and retaining the ability to hope for the remainder of their lifetime. I wish them a solid community of family, friends, support systems and a resilience that will carry them through the rough patches life will inevitably throw their way.

I believe one of the best gifts Mom and Dad gave me is a strong sense of family and community. Mom and her story-telling led to the gift of collecting family memories which was the best way to infiltrate myself within the family and get to know everyone a little bit better. I was 47 years old when I started collecting family stories and history. It was then, when I started to feel my roots strengthen enough to hold me solid no matter what storms came to pass after that time.

The moral to this story is: No matter what age you are presently at, you must hold onto the belief that the best is yet to come. The best comes veiled in so very many ways and it is seldom a straight path. If you didn't have the struggle, you wouldn't appreciate the outcome. The best outcomes usually came after the hardest struggles.

You've come a long way, my son. I believe in you. I see your strength and though I wish I could wish only good things for you, I know the best parts of my life were a result of the hardest of struggles. Hold onto that knowledge and let it ground you when the going gets rough. Keep looking up, my son. The best is yet to come...

Fearless Warriors

Do you ever hear yourself thinking, feeling and saying things you know you have thought, felt and said before and wonder how in the world this new circumstance feels so similar to a past event even though it couldn't be further from where you once were?

If your answer is "no", read no further. This post is not for you. If your answer is "yes", feel free to read on. I may or may not reveal important truths in the paragraphs to come. My fingers haven't written what my brain has figured out yet. I may or may not be in for some surprises myself.

I typed the words my inner self has been feeling into a Google search box this morning. I've been here before. How could something so dissimilar feel the same? I set the words free. Revised them to suit my particular situation better. I searched once again. It was only then, when I finally read the words I was meant to see.

I have been feeling very emotional about a situation lately. In order to manage my own thoughts, I have been talking. I usually hear my answers when I set my words free and hear them outside my head.

I kept hearing other people's words instead. Disbelief. Suggestions. Direction. It sounded simple. Just do "this" or "that" or "the other thing". I kept revising my story in an attempt to reveal the other side of the story. The answer isn't that simple, I would respond time and time again.

I finally heard part of my truth when I started thinking "By not saying anything, I am perpetuating the behaviour that is breaking my soul". I knew I had to come up with a tactic to stop or divert the energy I have been absorbing and turn it around.

Then the day unfolded. I felt powerless. I felt weak. I felt defeated. How can I keep going back into the arena when I don't have a means of defense in place?

I feel like Rocky Balboa. I keep standing up. I keep going back. I feel bruised and battered but I warrior on.

My opponent is waging their own battle. I thought and continue to think that their ability to stand up and go back into the arena is quite possibly harder than the battle I'm having. They are very likely feeling as powerless and defeated as I am, thus they are waging the war of their lifetime.

No one can know what another person is going through. I try. Oh, how I try. I try to put myself in their shoes. I try to borrow the shoes of another fearless warrior and put what I have learned and I try harder.

I tried. I know enough to not fan the flame. I cannot make it worse. But I cannot continue down this path.

This morning, I searched the words that were in my heart. I didn't find an answer. The only thing I found was a revised perspective.

These words: "Rather than interpret this as personal, try to see them for what it is — signs of unbearable suffering."

That is exactly what I was feeling. I was trying my darndest not to take it personally and had been doing okay with that until recently. "Unbearable suffering" ...

This is definitely a post I must walk away from before I hit the "Publish" button. I don't have the whole story. I still don't have a plan. I just hope I have the strength to reroute whatever may come my way today with a renewed perspective and a different vocabulary running through my thoughts.

Here We Go Again

The name of Cher's current tour (the one after her final, final tour) seems to describe the way I feel as a new week dawns.

Here I go again. Back into the same old, same old routine of doing the same old thing and hoping something changes. Yes, I believe it has been said that is the definition of insanity. Need I say more?

That said, I feel much lighter going into this week after clearing the deck of many "impossible things" yesterday, with the assistance of my son.

Not only did he mow the grass for me (all I had to do was buy the gas for the lawnmower and get the lawnmower started), but when I came home last night he told me he was going through the contents of his room in the hope of selling off unused items he has been holding onto.

My son is a university student with limited means. I am a home owner with excess belongings in the basement. We mixed those two facts together and came up with a perfect solution. If he could sell any of our unused household items, he can keep the cash. It is a win-win situation!

Lightening the load is sometimes as easy as cleaning off the counter tops and clearing out the excess. Mowing the lawn is a bonus (it is heavenly to come home to a well tended yard).

Off to work I go. Heading back into a new week and hoping the load feels lighter all around. Tending to "impossible things" at home is bound to affect how I head into this week.

Here I go again. Same old, same old but hoping for better results.

Entitlement Syndrome

Last night's quick trip to pick up a few items on my way home from work felt like an exercise in futility.

I walked into the store and immediately found myself in the Easter candy aisles. It took but a few minutes and I found the discount mini Easter eggs I have come to enjoy, then went directly to where my official list item numbers one, two and three were located.

Item #1 was too expensive, had too many choices, then when tried to narrow down my selection I discovered I didn't want what they had. I walked away with my cart carrying only my Easter candy.

Item #2 was no where to be found. Only my Easter candy remained.

Item #3 could only be bought within a set of other items I didn't need or want to purchase. This could prove to be a very cheap trip.

Item #4 was not available in the size I was looking for but I found the silver lining when I reminded myself of the savings in buying in bulk. Cat litter never goes to waste in our home but I haven't been buying the 50 lb size lately. It is simply too heavy.

I lugged the 50 pounds worth of cat litter into my almost empty cart and continued on my merry way.

As I walked up and down the food aisles, I was dismayed at the number of times I went to look for a specific item on the shelves and came up empty handed.

To add to my frustration, the store has done a major reshuffling of their groceries and I was having a heck of a time finding half the items left on my list.

As I checked out my cart (now filled with groceries I may or may not have really needed), it felt like this should be a cheap shopping expedition considering all the things I couldn't find. It wasn't.

I'm not a big fan of grocery shopping to begin with. Tack it onto the end of a long day and make it even longer by having to put away groceries and I was just a little testy.

I sat down at 8:30 and officially called it a day.

I woke up this morning with an "entitlement" hangover. We live in a country where we expect to find our grocery shelves fully stocked with an array of items so we can pick and choose according to our needs, wants and personal taste. More often than not, our stores do meet these standards. How dare I feel so entitled that I was a tad miffed that I couldn't find exactly what I was looking for? Shame on me.

I padded through my morning, turned on the kitchen faucet and marvelled over the fact we have clean, safe and readily available water "on tap".

I flushed the toilet and again appreciated the convenience of having the luxury of having not only enough water to take care of the job at hand, but a sewage system that is a basic part of our city's infrastructure.

I grabbed my back-up supply of frozen fruit I had on hand to make my morning smoothie. Food on hand, electrical appliances that are run by what feels like an endless source of power ...

I noticed yet another spectrum of light on the kitchen cabinets due to the angle of the back door and the way the sun was hitting the decorative light in the window. "Let there be light."

In the light of day, I simply felt grateful.

Grateful for the services that are not only provided as part of the convenience of where we live, but where our expectations are met and exceeded on a regular basis.

I saw the light. I felt ashamed of my petty grievances from last night. I thought I knew better. But I have been humbled. How dare I feel entitled to the privileged life I lead? I am suffering from a hangover of "Entitlement Syndrome". Today? I shall do better.

Trusting the Pause

The long wait for our new front door continues. The door and all options pertaining to said door have been chosen. At last.

As frustrated as I felt at the delay over something that could have been ordered, installed and paid for by now, I had to talk myself down and remind myself to trust the pause.

If I had forged ahead with the initial estimate, the professional door installers most likely would not have tended to installing the baseboards and trim that is already on hand. They definitely wouldn't have included painting the door as an added part of their service.

If I had acted more quickly, the bill would have been due and payable by now.

I'm searching my brain for more "pros" for this delay but I'm coming up empty. The old front door (and a sliding door which could have and should have been replaced) is all I can see within this freshly redone main floor.

Isn't that always the case? It matters not how many things have been crossed off the to-do-list, because the list is so short right now, all I can see is that which is left to be done. Which is pretty very minimal, all things considered.

Perhaps this delay will unveil a few more tasks I can ask my handy dandy reno guy to tend to while he is already here. It may cost a little more than the door and door alone but I am pretty sure when all is said and done, I will be grateful for the delay.

When things don't unfold in a manner in which you hope, trust the pause. Trust there is a purpose to putting your dreams on hold.

Looking at life backwards, I have always found delays are well worth the wait.

The Next Best Thing

My urge to run out to Mom's has been satisfied. I allowed my angsty feelings to overrule common sense and made some inquiries to see if I could follow my whims this weekend.

It turns out it was very possible. I'm here. Wrapped in the arms of family, friendship and familiarity. Those "3 F's" fill my soul. I'm glad I came.

The spontaneity of my actions have made this a very laid back visit. I was able to meet up with one friend and visit like we had all the time in the world. Our visit felt mutually life affirming.

Although this wasn't the plan, I feel like I have overtaken my brother's family this weekend. We have visited like we have rarely visited before. And it has been good.

The drive. Oh, the drive! I have missed it so. I love how my thoughts flow when I'm on the open road.

I had a lot on my mind. Being confined to my car for five solid hours, with no no other distractions other than driving on my mind, I had the chance to think my thoughts through and through.

At home, I lose myself in my habits of distraction. Scrolling, Netflixing, sleeping and eating are mind numbing. In the car, I have no where to go and nothing to distract me (Mother Nature did her job of keeping my eyes on the road as no sign of wild life or birds distracted me either).

Nothing has changed but my perspective. I have simply taken a step away from life as I know it and have given it a little distance. I have no idea if any answers will come to me on my five hour drive home or not. Sometimes the answer is not an answer but simply a fresh perspective.

I ran away this weekend. Now it is time to run back home. Back to my family, friends and the familiar place I like to call home.

I wasn't able to run out to Mom's this weekend, but this has been the next best thing. I think Mom would agree.

Questions That Make Me Ponder

I drop by to visit my aunt on a regular basis. Our visits have become routine, somewhat repetitive and familiar. She often asks me the same questions and yesterday as I listened to my own answers, I heard something I have never heard before.

Q: Do you miss your daycare?
A: No

Later on, she asked me:

Q: Do you miss dancing?
A: No

I shook my head at the realization that despite the differences within those two questions, the similarity was in my answer.

Both of those times were perfect for me as I was living my life forward.

Yes, there were several challenges in running a daycare but those challenges strengthened me, made me a better communicator, instilled "writing" as my coping mechanism and brought out a part of myself I may never had found, had I not stuck with my daycare through thick and thin.

As challenging as some moments were, they were heavily outnumbered by the mundane, routine and speckled with an assortment of "Heaven on Earth" moments. Watching children contentedly at play, when they have no idea you are watching them is bliss. Pure bliss.

I had to quit daycaring when the challenges outweighed the bliss on a much-too-regular basis. It wasn't an easy decision but it was the right one. I quit for the sake of the children. They needed a more joyful daycare provider. Though I had felt joyful during the majority of my daycare days, it subsided by the end of my daycare career.

It was time to move on. No regrets.

Now dancing on the other hand, was joy. Pure, unadulterated fun and joy. My heart soared during those days. I forgot the world outside the moment I walked through the dance studio doors. Music, laughter, movement, human contact and sharing a passion for dancing within a room of people who felt the same way? There was nothing like it.

I loved every moment of my years within the walls of the dance studio. In the end, a shortage of men to dance with, combined with a shortage of money and bad feet made my decision to stop dancing easier than I ever thought it would be.

I can remember the last time I quit dancing (yes, I started and stopped dancing about as many times as I gave my long term relationships). But the last time? I was quite certain would be THE last time.

And it was. No regrets.

Dancing? Daycaring? These two activities couldn't be more different. Yet the similarity is: when it was time to let it go, I did. I have had no regrets. None.

My aunt asked me what my favorite job was. I didn't have an answer. I could quickly remember my least favorite. But my favorite? That was harder to pin down.

While I'm in the middle of whatever it is going on within my life, whether it is work, recreational or something I do "just for me", it is usually my favorite place to be at the time. When it stops feeling good over a long period of time (absolutely nothing is ideal 100% of the time), is when I start considering my options.

I ponder "where I am at" periodically. More than half the people who touch my life are retired. Again, my aunt asks me regularly about retirement and when I plan to retire. So I have considered my answer on several occasions.

I need to work. Not only because my budget tells me so, but I need it for "me". If I didn't work, I would be frittering away my days. I find this thoroughly enjoyable for a weekend, a holiday or any bonus hour or day that finds me. But for the rest of my life? I think I need more of a purpose than mindless frittering of time.

In a perfect world, I would work from home again. Ever since I ran my daycare and utilized every square inch of our home and yard, I "knew" our home was part of my ideal work situation. I still mull this idea over in my head regularly. Daycaring is definitely out. Senior care in my home? I think that would be too much. Opening a B & B or an Air BnB establishment? I toy with the idea. Renting part of our house? A border?

I don't know.

I just know I am exactly where I am meant to be right now. I have given up what stopped working for me in the past with no regrets. I'm moving into the future as surefooted as any other time in my past. When I look at "the rest of my life", it is too big to comprehend in one fell swoop. When I look at "this year and the next", I'm good with the here and now.

I'm grateful for my regular visits with my aunt. The repetitive questions which make me think, help me find parallels and focus my attention on my answers. I try to vary the content of my answers ever so slightly to keep the conversation fresh. In doing so, I find new perspective.

What questions make you ponder? How many different ways can you answer the same question? Can you find a new perspective by looking at the same scenario differently?

Life is a learning curve. We never stop learning. Everything we encounter is placed before us to teach us something. I value every little thing my aunt is helping me see.

Will This Really Matter in Ten Years?

A simple quest sent me on a short journey the other day. I was seeking an answer I thought I had written down in a letter to Mom. Ten years ago.

Thus my journey began.

In sifting through a few letters during the time frame I was interested in, I found a paragraph I had written that intrigued me.

My youngest son was just starting the fifth grade. He wanted out of the class he was in and was desperate to escape by any means possible. There were no other grade five classes in his school so he begged me to let him either change schools or home school him. My request of him? "Just give it some time".

Ten years later, this incident rang the faintest of bells within my memory. It was akin to looking at a photograph and wondering "Do I remember that incident or do I just remember the picture?" In this case, I wondered, "Do I really remember this or do I only think I do because I am reading my own hand writing?"

Intrigued by this little blast from the past, I asked my son if he remembered this devastating, life altering, all encompassing incident from his past.

He looked at me vacantly. "When was this?" "How old was I?" "What teacher was it?" He couldn't remember.

I thought to myself. "This is a very good lesson for us to remember..."

No matter how devastating a moment may feel at the time, will you remember this in ten years?

I am fortunate enough to have many "ten years ago" incidents within my memory bank. I can remember the big stuff. Ten years later, all that is left is the lessons. The emotion I felt at the time is a distant memory.

Keep the lessons in life. Feel what you need to feel, do what you need to do, react as you need to react to get through and past the moment. Keep the lesson. Try to let the other stuff go. Try to forget.

Will this really matter in ten years?

In Memory of a Mother Duck

The wonders of nature have been forefront in my mind this year as I have travelled through the months. I've spent a fair number of miles behind the wheel of my car and the landscape around me has evolved from frozen and white to the various stages of spring. My last trip, Mother Nature was really outdoing herself. The trees had come back to life, the grass in the ditches was waving in the wind and the birds were out in full force.

I love watching the birds. It starts with those V-formations in the sky as the Canadian geese head northward, spotting ducks swimming and diving in the sloughs, the hawks as they soar in the wind and even our hardy birds that weather our Canadian winters seem a little more playful as the summer weather starts to return.

I was on the road bright and early this trip and the birds were out for an early morning stroll across the highway.

I was reminiscing about an unfortunate incident from last year when I was driving home on a busy summer Sunday. I was going highway speed when I noticed something long and low to the ground in the distance. It looked like something akin to a big garbage bag wafting across the highway when I first noticed it. By the time I drove up and saw it was a mother duck and her ducklings crossing the highway, it was too late to do anything about it. I had cars coming up behind me and the only thing I could do was take my foot off the gas and not make any sudden moves.

I felt ill as I looked in my rear view mirror to see the mother duck went down behind me. Her young little family was little more than a blur when the next round of cars came upon them as quickly as I had. The feeling and visual of that little duck family is still vivid in my mind a year later.

I was thinking of this little family on my quiet morning highway drive when I noticed something on the highway ahead. Having the highway to myself, I had the luxury of slowing down before I approached whatever it was. Sure enough, it was a pair of ducks. Two adults this time. They were walking along the highway in the lane I wasn't in, so I had the opportunity to appreciate them as I coasted past them. As I got close to them, they simply flew away. They flew.

Yes, of course! Ducks can fly. When these two adult ducks had no one else to consider but themselves, they simply flew away. My mother duck from last year didn't fly away. She didn't abandon her family to save herself. She stayed where she was, at the head of the line of her family and "took the hit". She sacrificed herself for her children.

At no point since my duck accident last year, did I even consider the fact that the mother duck could have flown away the moment she realized her life was in jeopardy. It never even dawned on me. Until these two adult ducks, without a family in tow, simply flew away when I got too close.

I was still in awe of the wonder of "motherhood" in all shapes and forms when I saw something off in the distance. This time, it was a goose family. They are taller and stand out much better than a low lying duck does and this time I (once again) had the luxury of a quiet highway to slow my pace and even brake as I got closer.

A mother goose, four little goslings and a father goose bringing up the rear crossed the highway safely. When they had made it to safety and I drove past, the father lifted his wings and swooped up off the ground in what I feel was a "thank you wave".

I may not have realized what was on the horizon if it had not been for that mother duck and her duckings last year. The mother duck who lost her life for the love of her family last year has made a lasting impact within me.

I think of that mother duck often. I still quietly mourn the loss of her and her family. If only she had known not to cross the highway during peak hours, she may have been saved.

She did not die in vain. A mother will literally take a bullet to save her child. Whether they are human or a bird or many other living creatures.

I was telling my mom this story and we both marvelled at the wonder of motherhood. As our visit progressed, we started talking of mother cats and Mom mentioned that the tom cats will kill the kittens. "Once the mother has kittens, she will have nothing to do with the male so the tom will try to kill the kittens to get her attention again." "Hmmm..." I replied. "I'm even more like a cat than I realized."

I think I'd rather think like a duck.

A New Moon Rising

We have had a month of cold, dreary and cloudy days. I was well aware of the chill factor in the air but I hadn't consciously thought of the grey skies that accompanied the drop in temperature. Then the sun came out to play the last few days.

Behold the power of a blue sky! Unfortunately it didn't beckon to me and convince me to go out and rake up the leaves which have scattered over the lawn since its last mowing, but it was pretty to see none the less.

In reality, I barely noticed the blue sky because I was too busy in my own head trying to figure out a strategy on "where to go from here" in my life. When your body, mind and soul are consumed with your own tiny little world, you tend to forget to look up.

Looking up is really where it is at. Looking up and out of your own head, home, world, community and gazing into the endlessness of the sky is a profound reminder how very small we are within our very own solar system, let alone the universe. One's troubles and worries are less than a speck in the sky.

I kept looking down, figuring, planning, conspiring and trying to come up with a plan. Looking down is seldom a good plan. Unless you are walking in a gopher hole ridden field, a pothole ridden street or an uneven sidewalk. Okay, let me rephrase that. One does need to look down at times, when the terrain you are walking on is unfamiliar. Safety first, you know. Even at that, it is still wise to stop and enjoy the view from where you are at, even when you are navigating your way through new territory.

My reminder to "look up" came to me when I was driving home on a cloudless night. The moon, in all its glory was a beacon in the sky. It was bright and glorious crescent moon sitting on the horizon which made it appear larger than life. It had a magnetic pull and I wanted to keep on driving toward it but settled for the fact that I would soon be home and could take a picture.

Unfortunately the landscape around me prevented me from seeing the moon once I was in a place where I could stop and gaze at it. But I knew it was there. It is always there. Often it is hidden behind the clouds or landscape or it doesn't shine brightly in the sunlight. But our moon is always there.

Sometimes our reminder to "look up" isn't staring us in the face. Sometimes it is hidden within a quiet exchange of words, an expression of disinterest  or disdain. Sometimes we are so busy holding ourselves down and close and quiet, that we forget to look up and out into the world. Sometimes, someone is lost in their own piece of their quietness and an invitation to "look up" is exactly what they need, even when it is the last thing they want.

I am that quiet, reclusive one more often than not. Especially when I am in the thick of gathering my resources to weather the storm I'm living in or the one ahead. I forget to look up and notice the world around me. I forget to reach out and touch others. I forget the power of connection. I forget the give, the take, the yin and the yang that comes from looking up after I've been looking down too long.

Focusing inward is necessary at times. Just as it is vital to your safety to look downwards to protect yourself from the unknown. The world becomes too small when you don't look up enough. My world has become exactly that.

I have been invited out into the world this upcoming week and it is my choice whether I "stay small" or if I open myself up, look up, listen deeply and look into the eyes of those I encounter. There could be a whole "new moon" out there that I'm missing.