You Know it's Going to Be a Tough Weekend When ...

This was the hardest weekend I've endured for a very, very long time. I knew it was hard when I found myself counting down the days until I got to go to work on Monday.

Yes, I made it. Yes, it was hard. Would I do it again? Maybe.

Attending the Homecoming by myself was the hardest thing I've done in decades. Made tougher when my car started rattling as soon as I decelerated from highway speeds to turn into town. I mentioned my dilemma to a few people (probably twenty) and one person's response was, "Yes, a lot of people start acting up when they come to our hometown".

It was hard but it was good. I saw a lot of people. Two of the three Mom gathered together for the life changing homecoming in 2006 were there. One of those people was one of the first people I saw; I latched onto the second person's wife during the last piece of the day. I missed the third person terribly.

I survived the day, the car got me home (rattling again when I decelerated). The car situation hovered over me like the dark clouds that decided to rain upon us during my little family gathering of twenty five the next day.

My cousin's wife, to whom I am extremely grateful, arranged, invited, suggested everything pertaining to the afternoon. All I had to do was open my doors (and a little prep and clean up). Two of the first to arrive were my mechanically inclined cousins. I asked them a huge favor as soon as they arrived. "Before you leave today, would you mind driving my car to see if I need to get it fixed in town or if I can make it to the city?" Making it to the city was critical because I'm holidaying/cat-sitting in my previous home and it was imperative I make it to the city in two days. 

Anyway ... back to the gathering ...

It couldn't have went much better (considering the impending rain clouds which kept all 25 of us under the very small roof for quite a while). The garage was company-ready and eventually the crowd divided in two (with a few enjoying the peace of simply sitting on the back step). Small groups conversed together - I like when that happens because that is my favorite part of being "one" in a crowd. Is the small conversations that are more genuine and real than the small talk that happens when there is one, big circle.

I'm glad I hosted the event. My family was beyond grateful but that wasn't the reason. I am hosting a "gathering of nine" in August and I was a small bit apprehensive about the larger gathering. Now, "nine" sounds like a very good one-digit number. I'm ready.

And yes, I must work today. The easiest part of the entire long weekend. Going to a place I don't mind going alone, know my way around and ... it's my last day before a week long holiday. This is the first time (other than adding a day or two onto a weekend) I've taken holidays since 2018.

I'm ready.

P.S. My car is ready too. Other than loose lug nuts (and one missing one) on the front tires, my cousins couldn't hear the rattling I heard. I thought the rattling I heard was from the rear, but I'm taking my chances and driving anyway.

I Can Do This

Mom, I sure miss you right now. I hope you are within, around and surrounding me this upcoming weekend.

I knew I wanted to extend an invitation. I didn't have it in me to do it. Thankfully my cousins married people who aid and abet our best existence. A door was ajar. I simply had to open mine and it was as easy as that.

Nerves were getting the best of me. Then I got a call from another cousin's wife. She may not realize it but she was exactly who I needed to talk with, to get me where I need to be to actually look forward to this weekend. I've adopted her as my own. She is my cousin. In fact, I feel more like sisters. Thank you.

I hung up the phone and did what I could do, to ready the yard for company. Not much. I mowed the sparse lawn and picked an ice cream bucket full of weeds. A step in a forward direction.

I woke up this morning and told myself attending this upcoming Homecoming Weekend will be easier if I go tonight. It will make tomorrow fall into place naturally and I'll find my way.

I'm missing Mom terribly right now. She was my strength at these hometown events. I became stronger after the last time she did the legwork and gathered "my people" at a table together. That strength is still there somewhere. 

I'm sure I will find it. Mom will be at my side in some capacity. She is within me and I still feel her walk beside me at times. Times like these.

I can do this.

If You Ask Them ...

I'm living my Field of Dreams life once again. I extended an invitation yesterday morning. There wasn't any back and forth or wavering. It was a simple, "Sounds perfect"; "Wow that sounds awesome"; "We will do that"; "Thank you"; a few more "Thanks"; one "I'm old and wondering about bathrooms" (I'll take that as a 'yes'); 

All I had to do was ask.

It's an easy group. I'm pretty sure it will be as simple as opening up my home/yard/garage and providing the basic necessities. We are ordering in pizza. Bing! Bang! Boom! Easy peasy.

Except I have to get from here to there.

My socializing muscle is weak. My hosting abilities are rusty. This sequestered, solitary little life I lead has not been good. It's been easy but sometimes one must do hard things to live a better life.

One. Forward. Step. At. A. Time.

I asked. They are coming. This is good.

Offer. Connect. Go. Do. Ask. Talk.

I'm stuck. I've been stuck for a while but I've disguised it with excuses. New home, new jobs, new everything. Thus, I have little energy for anything beyond forcing myself out the door to go to work. 

I have disconnected. Connections, connecting and re-connecting were CPR for my soul during the phase(s) of my life when I pushed myself out of my comfort zone and grew to be more of who I could be. 

I have been muddling through just fine. Until this upcoming weekend. My hometown Homecoming weekend. 

It was a Homecoming in 2006 that rerouted my life. Every forward step I've made since can be traced back to that reunion when Mom gathered up a few cousins and a childhood friend at a table. We re-connected like no time had elapsed. It was the last time Mom had to do my talking. I've been a bit of a chatterbox ever since.

So this morning, after much trepidation, I did it. I invited my extended family to gather at my home after the Homecoming. One invitation, no questions, simply a resounding "Yes".

I felt like a bit of a wreck as I wrote my morning pages. I tried to wake up the dormant side of myself. I have disconnected myself from a life I had been enjoying. I had a feeling it may be as simple as making an offer to open my home and yard as a place to gather. And it was. 

Offer - ✔

Connect/Go - I will go to the Homecoming (alone)

Do - Oh, I now have much to get done before this gathering unfolds

Ask/Talk - I must ask how my much anticipated holidays will be affected by our staff shortage at work

I have a ways to go. But I've offered. I believe that momentum will take me where I need to go.

I didn't have Mom's assistance this time. I did it on my own. But I think I feel her silently cheering me on from afar...

Fourteen years ago, I wrote this. Nineteen years ago, Mom got me where I needed to be to feel that hometown connection again. Thanks, Mom.

friday, July 1, 2011

Home Town Connections

This weekend is something that I have been quietly anticipating for the past five years. Since the last time I was 'home' ...

Five years ago, I returned to our home town for a Homecoming Reunion. I drove into town, expecting nothing more than to hang out with my own family and maybe see a few relatives. Little did I know at the time ... that weekend would change the course of my life.

I felt so comfortable ... so at home, that I returned for the second day. I reconnected with a friend ... and I ended up going on an Alaskan cruise with her (almost) five years later. The past started to meet up with my future that weekend.

That weekend started to bring my life into focus. It was the beginning of something that needed to be nurtured within me. The nine year old child in me (I was nine years old when our family moved to Alberta) finally came 'home' again.

Since that time, I have rerouted my life. I have nurtured, watered and tended to my 'roots'. My past, my heritage and my family are now a great part of my life.

This weekend ... I get to go 'home'. Again.

Mental Gymnastics

Yesterday, my wondering mind led me down a digital rabbit hole within this blog to find an answer. Today's unanswered question provided some exercise for my brain.

My thoughts began with considering this digital age we live in. We can replay the history of a conversation by scrolling through old text messages. Much more efficient than trying to find an old letter, card or paper document. Emails provide the same back-up. Easily stored, filed and the search function makes retrieval relatively simple.

I have a Rubbermaid container and two baskets within my Daybed Room I need to sort through, decide what is worth keeping and find logical spots to store what I decide to keep. So much paper. Yet there is history within that I don't want to lose.

My daughter suggested scanning and saving digital copies of what I want to keep. Sounds like a very good idea. It also sounds like a lot of work.

Then I started wondering about things like "When did I get a cell phone?", which prompted the memory of when my oldest sister and husband got their cell phone. If I remember correctly, they were the first ones within our immediate family to get one. I must have thought cells were for young people and probably a passing fad. I was somewhat amused that my sister and husband were the first to join this passing phase.

"What year was that?" 

Well, there was a family reunion. A family reunion when we had a new-to-us-dog, who got involved in a water fight (the dog was not the hero - as he bit my brother-in-law, while trying to protect my nephew's wife from the water war), where I think said cell phone ended up falling into some water.

I backtracked all memories related to this reunion, trying to pin down the year. Snippets of memories, who was a baby, timelines, where everyone camped/stayed ... as many details as I could muster and I was still coming up blank.

Eventually, I came up with the year 2001. I might be right. I might be wrong. I welcome corrections and clarifications from my siblings. If I was desperate to know the answer, I could rifle through my old letters to Mom and find the answer. 

The moral to my story is I came up with a satisfactory answer to my question, simply by rewinding the memories I hold within my head. I think of Mom every time I challenge myself to remember without falling back on the Internet or a digital form of the memory. Mental gymnastics may not be the answer to brain health, but it can't hurt.

Investments

I listened to my sister speak to her young, adult granddaughter as we drove home from our sibling weekend a few weeks ago. The tone of her voice, her words, the ease of the conversation and her reassurance as my sister spoke to her granddaughter. All I could think was the investment my sisters have made with all of their grandchildren is unmistakably the best investment one could make in this time of great uncertainty.

I have watched and listened to my sisters as they have been there for their children and grandchildren. Their availability to "be there" in whatever capacity was required, traditions and family occasions when all the family gathered so the sense of family was established and reestablished throughout the entirety of their lives, attending whatever events their grandchildren participated in. 

I have had the advantage of being about a decade behind my sisters and have heard them speak of "coming events" as the years advance. The years that separate us have all but disappeared over the course of our lives but I still look to them and learn.

Investing in family is a good way to go. I've still got a lot to learn.

A Little of Everything

The past weekend was my idea of perfection. A little dash of this, that and everything created the exact combination of what I needed/wanted to accomplish, seasoned with a touch of family which was the finishing touch.

One-on-one visits with my adult children is one of my most favorite things. "This" is the reward of having parented one's children to independence. The enjoyment of their company on a new plateau.

I listen to those who dread the idea of becoming an empty nester. I worked hard to gain this title. I plan to savor the rewards of enjoying the company of my self-sufficient in-dependents.

One of the things I appreciated the most, is two out of three filed their own tax returns!! 

I must admit, if I hadn't helped my third file their taxes, I wouldn't have had the excuse to talk with them. We just need to enhance those visits by eliminating the tax-factor.

It isn't the way most families celebrate the Easter weekend, but I'll take it.

When People Know Your Name

It's like going to "Cheers", the bar where everyone knows your name. Well, not quite. It's not a bar - it's work. It's not everyone - it's a few. But still, it feels warm and comfortable. A little of the feeling of coming home again.

The conversation started simple, "Where are you from?" Instead of going into the details of moving from the farm to the big city and moving a few more times to get here, I simply responded, "Well? My story began close to [hometown]". That hometown is a 15 minute drive from here so that is a good enough response.

I didn't realize I was talking to someone who was on my old school bus route. "What's your name?" I gave them my surname. "Which one?" Dad had six brothers so the surname provided enough, but not all of the information. I told them Dad's name, they looked at me and said, "You must be Colleen".

 Wow. Blow me over with a feather. 

I'm one of the youngest in our family of four. We moved from the farm to a new province when I was nine years old. My older siblings grew up, went to school, married local and remain connected with the community. People know who they are. I'm one of the forgotten ones. Not yesterday.

That feeling of "coming home again" is renewed on a pretty regular basis here. Coming home again has never felt so good.

Maintenance

I have come home from my third committed weekend feeling like a version of myself I remember enjoying.

I am amusing myself again. Twisting little things into a stories, connecting the dots and appreciating the impact of one small thing affecting so much more, spotting the absurdity of my thinking, the stories I make up in my mind and I find myself smiling at the smallest of things.

I spent time with my cousins. One on one time. Visits when you lose track of time and no one wants to be the first to admit "I have no idea what time it is", takes a peek at the clock to discover hours have past in the blink of an eye.

The common denominator with every single one of these reconnections was the comment, "I need to do this. I need to get out and see people more." Various versions of the same story. Even those who one would guess has a very busy social life were saying the same.

Life has taken a toll. Loss, health concerns, living within a smaller circle, life's continual ebbing and flowing - giving and taking as we walk each forward step. The pandemic started something that has weakened a lot of our social batteries. I am not alone.

A combination of too much coffee, not a lot of food and the adrenaline lift of connecting with (what feels like) long, lost friends and family had me a little giddy a lot of the time. I found myself chattering up a storm with my long, lost hair stylist. I was talking a lot, talking fast and I sputtered out, "I've had three cups of coffee and a donut today" to explain my chattiness. We laughed.

There was a lot of laughter the past few days. Lots. That is what is ringing in my ears as I listen to the quiet of the morning. 

One day, it just so happened that only one of my cousins was available to visit. Three hours passed and our visit continued on into the parking lot. My parting comment was connected to a comment she made at some point during our chat and I wound up our good-byes by turning that comment around and making some joke. As my cousin took a step away, she connected to dots to the initiating story. She turned around laughing and said, "I just got it". We parted laughing. Leave 'em laughing. It's a very good way to go.

I had enough errands to run to keep me busy throughout the afternoon. I didn't have another meaningful conversation with anyone all day. Thus, my one visit kept me company well into the evening, popping into my thoughts the way the last song you hear lingers long after the music is gone. The gift of one true connection was the magic in the way it lingered long after we went our separate ways.

Each and every connection was ended by the promise that we must do this again. And continue doing it. There is a cousin connection that goes beyond the blood ties, as two of these people were married to my cousins. There is simply a kinship. It is real and it is strong. It simply requires a little maintenance to sustain and nourish what we have.

The entire experience of the last three committed weekends which felt oh-so-hard was a strengthening of something good. Connection. Laughter. Kinship. Shared experiences and history. Compassion, caring, listening. There was a lot of listening. 

I feel recharged, energized and capable of carrying this forward. Today. Life has a way of dulling the experience. Day-to-day living takes a lot of energy. If we can find a way to infuse a little jolt of energy into the experience, it makes a difference. 

Maintenance takes a lot of work. At times we don't reap the rewards immediately but if we can persevere, there is something out there beyond one of those corners. We never know which one.

Charging System Malfunctions

They say what doesn't kill you makes you stronger. I'm not dead yet but I am feeling a tad stronger than I was a handful of days ago.

My social battery does not hold a charge any more. It is akin to my computer battery which needs a continual charge. The moment it is unplugged it dies immediately. There is no residual power in the battery. It simply dies. It does not hold a charge, even with a consistent power source.

My angst over socializing outside of the comfort of home is usually tempered when I'm surrounded by good friends and family. Especially family. That was what was so disconcerting about the weekend past. I couldn't talk myself down. I was getting close. I thought I could do it. I was packed up and ready to go. But my body shut me down and made it physically impossible to leave the house. I couldn't have even worked. I was so relieved I didn't have to feel guilty about booking the day off work. I couldn't have worked. Whew.

I slept the entirety of the day and all of the night. I awoke with the strength to push myself out of the house and onto the road towards my family.

As I drove, I calmed a little but the voice inside my head was constant. Everyone else is part of a couple. It was a family weekend including all the in-laws. And me. It was a bridge too far. 

I had visions of them enjoying this time without a seventh wheel. I was actually relieved. I thought I gave them a gift of a day without concern about the extra baggage of an odd man out. I have never, ever felt like that man. But my angst was high and talking me into all kinds of stories. 

All anxiety fell out of my body the moment I walked in. It was worth every painful step it took to get there. Gone.

And so went the rest of the weekend. Embraced by the comfort, comradery, humor and presence of family, I was home. I was truly home.

My battery recharged throughout our family time. I hadn't even realized the gift I accidentally brought with me when I arrived in my own vehicle. I had the ability to drive my sisters home for one final inoculation of sisterhood all the way home. ALL the way.

We arrived home at 2:30 in the afternoon. The better part of a Sunday to gather what I needed to forge through another work week. Time for everything and nothing. Time to do a few things for my "future self" to make waking up in the morning easy.

And it worked. 

I slept five solid hours without stirring. I awoke to a computer in a deep sleep. I fall asleep watching something on the computer with settings set so it will not advance to the next episode. Normally I don't sleep long enough for the computer to completely shut down and I can wake it up by clicking the mouse. Not last night. I thought I would try to fall asleep without resorting to tuning something on, to tune out my thoughts. I stirred for a minute or two. But I fell back asleep and awoke two hours later.

Waking up to a dark, quiet room felt so incredibly peaceful. I had a long, vivid dream, full of deep meanings to keep my mind busy upon waking. Once again, as with most of my dreams, it was a relief to know it was only a dream. 

My sister gave me a grounding sheet as a parting gift. I came home, stripped the bed, washed the sheets, had a shower and wore my freshly washed pj's to bed. I had completely forgotten about the grounding sheet when I went to bed. Everything felt so fresh and crisp that I became one with my nest of supportive pillows and comfy, familiar bedding.

I woke up feeling completely grounded. It's a miracle. The sheet works! So does the magic of family and charging my weak social battery.

I have a tricky car battery and charging system that is worsened by the car sitting idle in the garage for weeks or a month at a time. It is strengthened by a good, long drive and weakened by quick trips. 

I definitely have a short in my charging systems around here. Something to work on ....

My trickle charger showing a 50% to 75% charge after a 4 hour drive

This morning. 

My car and I have a lot in common - the need for a trickle charger.

Today

July has truly felt like a renewed beginning within this little world of mine.

Lines in the sand cement have been drawn.

A date has been set.

Day by day I see evidence of moving towards my plan of action.

One transition triggered the next course of events.

At least a year ago, I uttered the words aloud to those who would be affected,

 "When 'A' happens, 'B' will follow."

'A' happened.

'B' is in the works.

It has been like a domino has tipped over within my heart, mind and soul.

Life and death and everything in between has been brought to the forefront of my thoughts.

Friends, families, relationships and connections have been highlighted in neon yellow.

Focus on today, 

move towards the tomorrow you envision, 

step outside and take in whatever lies before you.

Breathe ...

 

Shared History

It's hard to leave my weekend oasis but here I am. Monday morning with nowhere to go but home. Real life, cat hair, snow and responsibilities. Ahhh. There is no place like home.

I love the sister-time I have at my little weekend oasis. A group text among my siblings on Friday was the precursor to the weekend. A shared memory among four people. Siblings. Growing up with the same parents at different times. A shared history but not always shared memories.

My sister-time is seasoned with "remembering when". I have always loved listening to my sisters (who are nine and eleven years older than me) reminisce about their childhood on the farm, many of those memories included cousins, grandparents and a glimpse of who Mom and Dad were during that time. 

My brother and I moved off the farm to a large city a province away, after my youngest sister was married. We grew up with a dad who had a "9 to 5" (with all the overtime he could work) job that included weekends and vacation time. My sisters grew up with a dad who was a hard working farmer whose hours were long and holidays were a luxury rarely afforded. As Mom once said, "Why do you think we got married on the coldest day of the year?"

We knew two completely different sides of Dad. I believe we also knew two completely different sides of Mom. 

Sibling time is a time when we meld those memories together. It is a time when little memories tend to resurface. Even after all of time I've spent with my sister the past few years, I smile inside when I hear one or the other or both of us remark, "I didn't know that" in regards to a family memory.

I spent my childhood waiting to grow up. I assumed all children felt that way but I now wonder if my desire to grow up and move out like my sisters, was motivated by a wish to join the adult sisterhood. Mom planted many seeds that grew into the close relationship I have with my brother. Now that our ages span from 57 to 73, instead of 12 to 28 we are seeing life through a common lens of mature adult beings with shared memories and support.

The memory of Dad's massive heart attack was the common thread my brother wrote about on Friday. He was the one who was home with Mom when it happened. The rest of us were married and although I was geographically the closest, as my siblings recalled their memory of that day, I felt I was the most remote.

A tragedy united our family in a way we had never been before. There is a date in our history that marks the time, place and circumstances each of us were experiencing at the time. That day was forty years ago. Since that time, we have only grown closer.

It is a gift to share a history with those we can connect and reconnect with over the course of a lifetime. Is it a wonder why I share a very close friendship with a childhood friend I've known since I have had a memory? A sister-in-law who "adopted" me when my own sisters lived at a distance and were relatively unknown to me at the time? Many of my closest friends are friends who are "missing a sister" and we've forged a sister connection.

I believe the human condition craves and needs connection. We are fortunate when that connection is forged within family. Shared history is a good foundation to build on and we can forge those connections outside the family unit. 

We all have a story we tell. It is a gift to share our stories with each other.

Tending to My Roots

I don't know what the formula is but waking up to a Monday morning in my little oasis away from home fills me up with words, the desire and time to write. What is the secret to this little pocket of time I have found?

My weekends are spent tending to life-in-my-oasis. There may or may not be a lot of human interaction. Either way, I wake up to a new week with an inner peace, energy and pep in my step.

Monday to Friday obligations deplete me. Expectations of myself, job requirements and housework that feels endless due to the (seemingly) infinite amount of cat hair in our midst. I love our cats ... I just wish someone else tended to the cat hair. It is no wonder robot vacuums were invented. I'd bet a quarter that the person who invented these vacuum cleaners owned a pet.

Back to the point now ...

Here in my little oasis, I tend to have a loosely based schedule. I know I will get dirty one day. Mowing our "lawn" is like stirring up a dust bowl. While already dirty, I tend to find something else to accomplish before I clean up for what remains of the day. Cooking will happen. I have the time, desire and energy to actually cook while I am here. Then I have food/meals to bring back with me, when I re-enter my regularly scheduled life where I don't make time for cooking.

It is a very family oriented time when I am in my home away from home. Sister-time; time to just enjoy the company of my adult children if/when they come to call; a few cousins; an aunt/uncle duo; the occasional sibling gathering; and a recent birthday celebration for my uncle was held one block away from my little weekend oasis.

My weekends are time to tend to my roots. My essential essence of who-I-am is here and I love nurturing that part of myself. 

Where do you replenish yourself? One doesn't have to go far to find what feeds one's soul. When I live my city-life, I find my peace within the walls I call home and right in my own back yard. Walks and time spent simply watching, listening and waiting for little moments Mother Nature has up her sleeve. 

Find a way to tend to your root system. Bloom where you are planted. Stop, look, listen to your world. Search for your peace wherever you may find it.

P.S. I'll bet you thought this post would be about coloring my hair. Nope. That ship has sailed. I'm all natural now and my hair is the color it was meant to be. 

Family Ties

It is really quite amazing what a little dose of companionship can provide. Yesterday was seasoned with a little dose of family on a day I was feeling a little off.  

There was really nothing terribly wrong but when my son drove up and showed up on the doorstep I think my heart did a little happy dance.

I had an excessive amount of word-build-up accumulating within and putting a voice to what I was feeling was the release valve I needed. I hope the feeling was reciprocated ...

Then I heard from a few of my cousins.

Family. A family I would have never got to know if I had not lived life exactly the way I lived it. 

Accumulating family memories connected me with my extended family in a way I could have never imagined. I have come to know some of my uncles and aunts in an up close and personal way. Every connection is a gift. Re-unioning and reconnecting has left the door ajar for little impromptu check-ins. 

So many little things have led me to exactly where I am. I fully believe with all my heart I am exactly where I am meant to be. Right in the heart of family, my roots and "home" in every sense of the word.

Throwback Thursday

My only thoughts this morning are "there goes another month".

I wistfully wondered where we will be standing a year from now. Who would have predicted our current state of being?

I have since been scrolling through my blog posts from Septembers in the past. This is the one that spoke to me the loudest. 

A little throwback Thursday post from one year ago with no glimmer of what the next year had in store:

THURSDAY, SEPTEMBER 19, 2019

Look How Far You've Come

While scrolling through the internet this morning, I found a few words that spoke to me:

Credit to: Goalcast

I thought I would reflect on the year and went to check my blog history. September, 2018? Nothing. Not a post.

I then went to look up my 2018 calendar to fill in the blanks. I couldn't find it. I searched through my income tax papers where I always keep my calendar. Not a thing.

Okay, memory. Kick in. What were you doing a year ago?

I remembered September started by a trip with my brother to see my uncle in Guelph. I remember going to my sister's the weekend after that.

I remember feeling a lightness of heart starting to take hold but without the crutches of my blog or a calendar to look back on my memories faded to black. It was a scary feeling.

I scrambled to scroll back on some old texts to find a frame of reference. I found a text where I was headed out to Lloydminster with my son. After reading a few of the messages before and after this trip I was grounded with the knowledge that I remembered what was written in between the texts.

Once my feet were back on the ground and I was thinking clearly, I found my old calendar. Right where I expected it to be.

I flipped back to September, 2018. One year plus six days ago, I received the Final Clearance Letter for Mom's estate. A sibling trip was planned and we officially wound up everything pertaining to Mom's estate shortly thereafter.

We are planning another sibling trip this upcoming weekend. I will be headed off to see my uncle soon. Other events are mirroring those of one year ago.

Two years ago, the loss of Mom was fresh and I felt broken. A year ago, I was picking up the pieces and healing. This year seems to be a renewed version of the year past.

Life has moved on. There is a lot of the same old, same old. Just the way I like it. It feels like the good old days seasoned with the present.

How far have I come? I have a home renovation to celebrate. I am fortunate enough to still be employed. We are all in good spirits and our family relationships are healthy. I'm standing in a very similar place to where I was a year ago but the landscape has changed a little. I am grateful. So very grateful to be back where I have been but feeling better about it.

How about you? What has the last year brought into your life? I hope there have been rainbows after the rain, strength when you need it, courage to keep putting one foot in front of another and the company of those you enjoy to walk through your days.

Back to the present again ...

P.S. I am missing our annual sibling trip terribly. COVID-19, you can leave any time. We have learned quite enough from your presence

Breathing in the Weekend

The weekend past was quite possibly the definition of a "perfect weekend". A day trip with and to meet up with my siblings, followed by a day of phone calls, the delivery of a free filing cabinet, combined with a visit including a light lunch and a moderate amount of productivity.

My socializing skills are rusty. I replay parts of conversations I had and shudder. "Why did I say that?" "Why didn't I listen more?" "Why didn't I invite the other person to tell their stories more?" 

This is exactly how I used to feel when I was young. I was not an outgoing child and the times I could re-hear my voice and regret talking were many. I lost a lot more sleep over it in those days but the feeling is very similar.

I believe I invited negativity into the weekend with me. Shame on me. 

All conditions were perfect! Could I please have a "redo" of the weekend I just had? 

A Step in the Right Direction

 I am seriously contemplating taking a step outside my safe little COVID induced isolated little world. I am planning a day trip.

The incentive? An afternoon with my siblings. Oh, how I have missed my sibling time.

I have had a brief deck-visit with my sisters but I was uneasy. I didn't breathe in the moments the way I normally do.

Socializing is depleting me more than it is invigorating me these days. This trend was beginning before these months of isolation. The ongoing "state of emergency" recommendations have simply given me permission to be more of who I already was.

If anything or anyone can push me out of my comfort zone and take one step into the land of being social, it is my siblings. I think I'm ready.

This upcoming visit has one condition: "Weather permitting" These two words bring me great comfort. I am hopeful but not fully committed.

Story of my life. Hope without commitment. I don't want this state of mind to become my norm. I am in good hands taking this first tentative state with my siblings. It's up to me to make the most of this time of great hope.

The Months of "No"

Shonda Rhimes' book "Year of Yes" was an inspiration to me. Her book was a testament to her year of "Yes" and the impact accepting life's invitations had on her life. 

I have tried the "Yes" way of life. It is fine. It has led me to places I would have never been before. It is both exhilarating and exhausting. It is hard. It is expensive. It goes against my naturally inherent introvert tendencies. The word "yes" depletes me as much as it enriches my life at times.

I have come to like the "easy yeses" instead.

I tried to come up with a list of "easy yeses" and my thought well ran dry. "Yes" does not come easy to me right now. I have been reveling in the COVID months of "No".

"No thank you" is my favorite go-to-response at the moment. 

As our world is gradually reopening there is a huge part of me that is screaming, "I'M NOT READY YET!!"

When I quizzed someone of the protocol about going out of province or whether having out of province guests would interfere with the ability to enter a retirement/senior living complex, they had to consult their books and came up with the response "As long as you aren't showing symptoms of COVID-19, you would be allowed access". My response to this was "Isn't it too late by then?" We both nodded our heads in agreement that the biggest risk was in spreading the virus while not showing symptoms. 

Due to the regular contact I have with my senior friends, I continue to be vigilant in my isolated little world. I don't get sick. Thus, I fear I could unknowingly spread a contagion to those who could be at risk. I continue to find reasons to say "No" to the invitations that are ever so slowly starting to reappear.

Where does paranoia start to overlap with common sense when it comes to the Coronavirus? Is my natural tendency to want to decline invitations being enabled by being able to label an excuse on it?

The reason I believe I am falling back on common sense is when it comes to invitations from family. It doesn't matter how depleted I feel, I equate interaction with my siblings to oxygen-for-my-soul. The answer is always, always, always "Yes! Yes!! Yes!!!".

This virus has beaten me down to a point where "No" is comfortable, safe, familiar, affordable and exactly where I most want to be.

I love the comfort weekends bring even more than I did during the B.C. (before COVID) days. I love parking the car Friday night and not starting it up again until I go to my aunt's on Monday.

I love, love, love working from home. I'm still having a little bit of trouble establishing boundaries but for the most part, my office-with-a-door offers most of the separation I need to keep work from infiltrating other areas of this oasis I call home.

I love the world of ordering online, free delivery or curbside pick-up. My heart clenches just a little before I enter a store-with-a-door. 

When I sat down with the words "the months of 'no' " at the tip of my fingertips this morning, my intent was to write of the lightness of heart I feel at living safely within the rules of isolation. Instead, the gravity of truth seeped out.

COVID-19, I truly appreciate the clarity, the isolation and lessons you have brought into our world. Personally, I am fortunate to say I have gained much more than I have lost though I know that is not the case for everyone. 

These months of "no" have been a holiday from life-as-I-know-it. It has been a reprieve from expectations. I know I must dip my toe back in the water and tentatively re-instate cautious "yeses" back into my world. The words "I'm not ready yet" have not yet been silenced. Perhaps there is a reason for that. Or maybe it is just an excuse.

One step in a forward direction, one step, one day at a time. Will take us where we need to go.

You Do Get What You Need

Two down, two to go. The day I stop counting down days until the weekend will be the day I know I have arrived to the elusive destination which feels far beyond my reach.

I realize when one dream is realized it often means the end of the line for another piece of life which has sustained a person until the next plateau.

To reach the point where weekends are not my life line and do not define me, will I be searching for purpose? Companionship? Financial security? What sacrifices will be made to get from "here" to "there"?

What will I lose along the way? What can I do to create the next place I am headed?

My answers lie in gratitude and connection.

I will appreciate what I have while I have it. Life as I know it is not ideal but it is manageable. I believe I must fill myself up with generous doses of sleep, solitude, fulfillment, family, friends and activity to offset the challenging aspects of my days. Balance is key. I cannot exist on work or leisure alone. It is simply that at this stage of living, I do not want my work to define me.

When I am dead and gone, I don't want people to say "She sure was a good worker". I hope instead, they will say some version of "She lived a good life" ... "She was a good friend" ... "She did her best and her best was enough" ... "I am grateful our paths crossed" ...

I am grateful for what I have. I know things could change in a New York minute. I look around me, listen to the people I know and I know I am living a charmed life.

Getting up is hard. But I CAN get up. I jump out of bed and head towards a day which is predictable, safe and provides me with exactly what I need. As I believe my sister was quoted as saying, "You don't always get what you want ... but you do get what you need."

Company's Coming!

Something deep within me has shifted. The upcoming week is full of commitments, people, company coming AND I am a little bit excited despite it all.

Rewind the tape to a time not so long ago when plans were made and I dutifully carried them out. Each step along the way was slightly less excruciating than the one that preceded it. I would follow through, complete my mission, come home and gather my energy for the next hard thing.

This is not unusual for me. I don't like leaving home. Normally I go through the process alone, finding the simplest of decisions inexplicably hard. I don't know what to pack. Whether or not I need to bring a pillow. What if the house burns down while I'm away? What if I don't make it back? Is everything in order?

This is normal for me. I have gone through this process in a slightly less feverish approach for most of my adult life. The "what ifs" bog me down but they start to lighten the moment I'm on my way to somewhere.

Somewhere may be work, an outing with a friend, a short getaway or a more extensive holiday-like destination. The place between "leaving home" and "heading somewhere" is uncomfortable. I go through my processes and to date, I have always come out the other side of the experience intact and grateful for the experience.

It became worrisome to me when issuing invitations into our home started to carry some of the same burden. I become obsessive about cat hair, cleanliness, organization and would over think most every aspect of pending company.

There is one caveat. Outings, gatherings, invitations and conversations involving my own family sustained me. These encounters felt like pure oxygen and breathed life back into me.

Family is coming. Each and every one of my guest rooms will be utilized. I have a guest who will be staying for a longer period and I have gone into full-on hostess mode.

I want to provide little touches, things I appreciate when I'm away from home and distracted by things beyond my control. I want my guest to arrive and not have to worry about a thing.

I went about my weekend preparing for the week ahead of me. I have created a home away from home for my guests and I am just a little bit excited for things to fall into place. Undoubtedly, I will have forgotten something. I always do. But the state of becoming prepared for a week such as this has filled me up and oxygenated me.

I have three spare bedrooms. I have created a little oasis where I put myself in my guests' shoes and have tried to anticipate the small little comforts to make our home feel like theirs. Our home feels happy and open to all that will unfold within these walls.

"If you create it, they will come ..." It feels like I'm in my Field of Dreams again.