Fall arrived up here on the hill and with it a lashing rain against my window, blowing the leaves to the ground. I don’t mind. This is what fall does — it reminds us of how the winds blow, how life is a series of impermanent moments.
But as the rain rattles against the glass, I am mostly glad for this quiet moment coaxing me to just sit.
To sit and breathe in life and this moment and the chance to pause. Continue reading
I realized today that both myself and my dear friend Johanna Harness have children sharing a birthday. She’s asked me what kind of cake Biggest would be having to celebrate and that got me to thinking about all the birthday cakes I’ve made and eaten during my 45.5 years here.
The first birthday cake I remember being made for me was an angel food cake made by my grandmother. She’d put a new Barbie doll in the center and frosted the cake and doll to look like Barbie was wearing a pink dress. I don’t really like angel food cake and I wasn’t a Barbie doll playing kind of girl. But I was so appreciative of the fact that she’d made me a cake for my birthday. Four years old and already I’d learned one of life’s truths: dessert is sweeter when it tastes like love. Continue reading
I am filled to bursting with conflicted emotions these days. And frankly, there’s really no end in sight for those feelings. Which is not awesome but reality. The feelings? I have the whole spectrum and some extra helpings to boot. It doesn’t help that I had to say goodbye to our “princess” this week.
Because she probably never was really our princess and we are finally all accepting that. Middlest in her princess form is gone and in her place is just Middlest, as she’s always been.
The rain has finally found our parched little corner of the world again. I’m typing here in my kitchen with the patter of raindrops against my windows, reminding me of other rainy days I’ve had. But then, I’m probably a bit more likely to be reminded of things today. After all, it’s my Middlest’s 9th birthday today.
Nine. Such a nice round number, three threes all connected together into nine-ness, perhaps even all dressed to the nines. Nine.
Nine years ago my “gut feeling” I was carrying a girl became my fact and not just my hunch. Nine years ago I was lucky enough to experience a labor and delivery with all the possible magic and none of the previous frustration. Nine years ago I was blessed to become a mother to a daughter. She was so alike my son, Oldest. And yet so different.
It is World Series time again and Americans are evenly split between those held hostage by their televisions every night and those who have no idea baseball is even being played right now. (Although there are other divisions in US citizenry, for this post I’m going with only that particular division. Bear with me.) Knowing that a bunch of men are sprinting about in tight pants brings several things to my mind, one of which is the concept of “priceless-ness”. In 1997, during that world series, MasterCard began cheering our lives with depictions of things with tangible costs, as well as those which are priceless. What is priceless, anyway? By definition, it is understood that to be priceless is to be so precious that no dollar value can be attached to it. By application, it is understood that the notion of that which is priceless changes per person and per situation. The individual sets both the value and the cost. Because everything in our lives, indeed our very lives, has a value and a cost. And it is our very own perceptions that create both. If you follow this blog, you know that as a person I tend to not shy away from pondering the bits and pieces of my life. And of late, you know that I also have shared how dark my life view has been. But even though I struggle in my life, I know how priceless my life truly is. And it is made priceless by those I value so very, very much.
Yesterday was a glorious fall day complete with colorful leaves and a bright blue sky. It also was my 42 birthday and I was thinking something – when you celebrate a birthday, do you celebrate the past 364 days or the next 365 days? And just what do you expect to have happen on your birthday? (Please tell me no one is still being spanked — that one never made sense to me.)
In some ways, yesterday was not the day I expected to experience. And yet, in other ways, it was.
I like birthdays. Really, I do. There’s chocolate and cake and presents and a party with the people you care about and even more chocolate. And when we’re being honest, aging. I like all these things.
Yes, I just publicly said I like aging. Just as many have noted before, aging beats the alternative. So I don’t mind getting older. Yes, I wish aging wasn’t so noisy when bending down and such things, but I don’t mind the changing hair color and crow’s feet. Because at least I have hair, right? Again, it beats the alternative.
And when birthdays come around, I love having parties and seeing the folks I got to have another 365 days to cherish. Because if I’m being truthful, that is what a birthday celebration is actually for — celebrating the opportunity to have had all those days with the people who matter to you. Not what might be given to you in a box with a pretty bow on top.