Just Take me Home

 I am not sure where this entry will go or who I'm writing it for. I guess I will just write it and find out. I have good days and bad days, good nights and bad nights and then I have excruciating nights. For the most part I have learned how to have good days. It is very seldom that I get a really bad day. I have learned what works for me even though to some it may seem on the obsessive, compulsive side. I need order. I need purpose. I need nature and time to be with myself. I need my work , my writing and my list making. Some of the other things like knitting dishcloths , playing card games , watching a bit of TV are fillers that round out my routine . I need laughter , a thank you now and again , hugs from my grandkids and a  chat with a friend. I have learned how to have good days but I never take them for granted. I have had days when I couldn't leave my bed. But thankfully not for a long long time. Days and the choices I make seem to be up to me somewhat. Nights are something else entirely. They sneak up on me. They hit me head on and with a vengeance. I sometimes know or have an inkling that I am due for one but I don't really have any control over where my sleeping brain takes me. Experience teaches us so many things and getting through a bad night is something I know how to do but knowing how or knowing that I can survive one does not make it any easier. When the panic comes, when the wracking sobs return , when the dark night and deep pain comes I am not always sure I will survive it. I dig deep to find the confidence and assurance that I'm survived it before but the hard work to get to the other side is exhausting. So the next day I am kind to myself. I process and look at the dream squarely in the face. No-one needs or wants to walk through that dream with me. The people who love me have their own pain to carry and this is a solitary task that no one can take from me. In writing this I look for no pity , no pat on the back. I just give voice to the pain we all carry, the pain that ebbs and flows but never goes away. As long as we breathe and think our brain and our hearts will process and hold that pain. For the good days and nights I give thanks and for the sun that comes up on the day after a really bad night I give THANKS.I kept crying "Just take me home" in my dream last night and I know what home is and I am there this morning.

A Thursday in January

 My entry this morning is a hodge podge of thoughts and observations. So much percolating in this over thinking head of mine. Countdown days to bunnies is what occupies Paige's mind these days. Every suppertime her thoughts go to the promise her Uncle Caleb made her of bunnies as a reward for trying foods she doesn't like . Not an easy task for a girl pretty much meat adverse. A challenge for her  and some nights are easier than others. I happily stumbled on to two posts from Digitally Lit one highlighting The Sewing Basket and the other a review of Fear of Drowning. It is a  writing  day. The sun is peaking through and the day stretches ahead. I hope to get to the woods for another trek on snowshoes.Today is Zac's friend Donnie's birthday. Donnie survived the accident that took Zac's life. And as I write this the Grateful Dead sings out on the radio behind me. "I will get by, I will survive." Every silver lining's got a touch of grey. Oh boy I am not going there right now. A touch of grey! Every day every season a touch of grey and a glimmer of light. I am thankful for the glimmers of light, my family, friends, my work, the open sky above me as I stand in the woods , the smiles and laughter of my grandchildren and so much more. Ok a Thursday in January is a day I am given to do the best I can and that is what I'll set out to do.

Are Words Enough?

 Oh boy. I don't even know what to say. My brain and my heart are a jumble of consonants that scramble to make words. I am a writer,  a list maker ,a writer of sentences written frantically when I am trying to make sense of something , to quiet a turmoil within. This morning words, lists and sentences don't seem to be enough. My soul has been bombarded . Images of a mob milling about , scaling walls, crawling through windows, chanting hateful words and inciting fear and confusion has my mind in its own upheaval. Orange phases, numbers, death tolls, missing young men named Zachary, the death of a sweet, gentle, wise woman, doom and gloom predictions swirl around and leave me feeling sick and tired, weak and weary. This morning will words be enough. Can I breathe deeply and regroup? Can I find the stream of light and hope to lead me away from all the darkness? A piano plays on the radio behind me and I allow the melodious notes to find a place , to quiet my soul. Now on the radio, a list of arts personalities and entertainer's quotes are shared and in words we try to find our way through all of this. Words. Words matter of course and each one of us makes the choice of what words we say, what words we write and what words we allow to penetrate our souls. I will sit in a restful silence and find the right ones, the nourishing ones, the kind and hopeful ones. Right now that's all I've got.

As I Put Christmas Away

 Today is the first day of a new year. I looked back at last January's entries and decided I must write about Christmas 2020. Today I will begin to put Christmas away. I have decided not to do a large New Years day dinner. Covid has reduced our crowds and preparing meals for a houseful all fall has reduced my desire to feed a crowd. Today I will take the tree down and go from there. Meg, Cody and the girls will begin moving in to the house they will rent for three months. Paige has voiced several times in the last couple of days her wish to settle and stay somewhere. I believe when the time is right that will happen. Last year I looked to a Christmas when Meg and her family would be home with us. Little did I know what a huge change 2020 would bring and that her being home would be so much more. There have been challenges, disappointments, struggles and difficulties in making a monumental move during a global pandemic. But blessings have abounded as well. Moments to be treasured and celebrated have been gifted us. Our beloved daughter has kept us laughing and kept her mother in line. Two granddaughters have filled our home and hearts . A son in law has embraced farm life taking special care of chickens, turkeys and kittens , has willingly been Burton's chauffeur and reluctantly joined in in frustrating games night after night. We have laughed, cried, grimaced and smiled widely. Christmas was wonderful. Caleb and Jenna joined in and it was great. The girls adore Miss Jenna and love their bossy Uncle Caleb. Yesterday Jenna filled the pantry with a major dumpling making production and the girls happily participated. I watched what I hope will be a new New Years Eve day tradition take shape and realized just how amazing this Christmas has been. This whole move , the fall and beginning winter days have been far from easy but we are all well, we have warm shelter( too warm sometimes) , more than enough food to eat and we have each other. I have managed clutter and upheaval, extra pets and more mouths to feed but I would not trade any of it. We have been family and what more could anyone ask for. 

Happy New Day!

 In the last few days I've had passing thoughts about writing a blog entry. I even had a title a few days ago but try as I might I can not remember it. Realizing I've not written since mid December and  registering it being the last day of this month and this year I felt compelled to sit down and write an entry this morning. I am weary. Now in saying that I must say I have had some relaxing times since the frenzy of preparation a week ago  followed by the delightful activity and bustle of Christmas day. I took my birthday as a do almost nothing day. I have gone to bed most nights fairly early and even slept in until 9:00 this morning. The weariness comes from deep within. So many people are talking about their anxiousness to get rid of 2020. They speak of the difficulty of months of a global pandemic and the hope they hold for 2021. Of course I can echo all that. But this morning I remember the last day of December in 1999. Oh how I wanted the sorrow of that year to lift. We were invited to join Karen and Thane in their home for a New Year's Eve get together. Her ill brother sat in the corner as the rest of the family gathered in looking for the new year to lift the heavy burden they were carrying. We went through the motions and I thought I would break under the weight of my sadness. The next day and year dawned and we found our way through it one difficult day at a time .I see similarity and recognize the path, a path we are all on regardless of what it is we are given to face. A new day , a new year , new hope and renewed strength are the tools we have every  day no matter what the month or year is on the calendar. How quickly those days and years go. What doesn't kill us makes us stronger! I have no words of wisdom or  profound overview of what we've lived in 2020 and I have no eloquent words of positive prediction. I just have the knowledge that hard things are hard and we do the best we can. The weariness sometimes lifts long enough to give us the energy and zest we need to keep going. Love carries us and pushes us to do better. For that I am truly grateful whatever 2021 brings.

I Love Mondays

 I love Mondays and especially Monday morning with its  promise of possibility. I just made my list and sitting here I feel the joy of the day ahead. I don't mind saying that I hit the wall Saturday at suppertime. The thread that was keeping me together got taunt and broke. Now when that happens I'm not known for yelling and screaming but more for retreating to a quiet place and letting the tears come. I know a balance of both is probably healthier but I am a Bradley by birth and we do not confront. My wise son ( who doesn't know everything, but knows a lot) made the astute observation ,as he attempted to deal with his distraught mother , that I do better writing my feelings than voicing them. So true and right or wrong that is just the way it is. Monday mornings are quiet and in  the  month and season of our lives we now find ourselves that quietness is a welcome state. The grandkids are in school,  the adult children have or are going to work and just the two old folks remain. Mondays are writing days and I treasure them. Yesterday was a beauty day. The tree got in and up. Jenna put the lights on while I worked at supper prep and cleanup. Paige helped with decorating and running commentary . Emma made appearances. A lovely Sunday supper was enjoyed and the twinkling lights in the corner of the living room provided a warm and welcome glow. I was truly grateful for the activity and interaction in my home. And this morning I am truly grateful for the silence. The balance is the key. 

I Miss my Mother

 I love getting ready for Christmas. I love digging out the favorite decorations, the treasured objects, the precious memories. Just like everything else in life there is change to that. Some things stay packed away. Some placements change and some remain the same. I searched yesterday for a framed picture I'd given Mom and Dad a few years ago of Mom, myself and my two brothers standing on the steps of our house at 619 Regent St. prepared to leave for Moncton Christmas morning. The photograph is small but the feelings were huge as I searched for it knowing it had to sit on the small yellow table in the open area. The twinkling lights of the ceramic Christmas tree my mother made and the album cover from my childhood accompany pictures of my growing up family and my beloved parents. I miss them both but yesterday my heart kept reminding me how much I miss my mother. Funny how last night's jumble of dreams gave me both of them. Dad was eating with Chapin's kids and I was holding a new baby up to show Mom.  This morning as I write this my eyes fill with tears as I realize  the powerful weaving in and out of past , present and future our emotions guide us through. This present Christmas has so many gifts and challenges and all the Christmases of my past are thrown in as well as hope of future Christmases. And to top it off the song So This is Christmas comes on the radio. I got through Saturday Zac's 42nd birthday, the twenty second one we've had without him. I shed a few tears but did not have the big cry I anticipated. Perhaps that is coming soon. The big cry doesn't hurt anything and neither does the constant ache. Both are love and I am thankful for that love. I miss the comfort of that love when I can show up at Mom's and just be. She would feed me and wrap me in her love and the visit whether long or short would equip me to keep going. It still does. But now I am the mother , the grandmother and I am truly grateful for that honor. But oh how I'd love to walk through my mother's door and feel the status of being her special guest, her beloved daughter. Thankyou Mom for all the times you gave me that.

Zac changed the lyrics to 'So this is Christmas and what have we done We brought our mother with us and it's not any fun.' This was after a memorable fiasco of a Christmas Eve run. Oh the wonderful treasured memories.