And it's Monday Again

I debated with myself as to whether or not to write this entry. I will write it and then decide if I post it or not. The debate comes from the feeling that I sometimes get that I should be fine, I should not be dwelling on it. I have been told this over the years and I understand the people's good intentions to tell me that but I feel the way I feel which leads me to believe that others probably do too. Loss is a fact of life and I understand that very well. The measuring or comparing of loss is sometimes used to help put things in perspective and I get that too. But the daily living with and processing of emotion and all the things that come from loss is a reality and I think talking about it is better than pretending it doesn't exist. I lost my son 18 and a half years ago. I can clearly see healing and progress in dealing with the challenges a loss brings but I know the truth of it. Yesterday I gave a lot of thought to what Sunday mornings are for me. I calculated that since Zac died I have had 960 Sunday mornings.That also means I have had a lot of Saturday nights . For the first couple of years I woke up at 3:00 almost every night. It was 3:00 when we got the call that Zac had been in an accident. Oddly enough during Zac's first year and for a few months beyond he woke at 3:00 almost every night to be fed and snuggled before returning to his crib. So there is that. I have worked through the emotion of that but my fear and anxiety around Saturday nights continues and the weariness and defeated feeling I face on Sunday mornings has not gone away either. I recognize it and I give myself permission to feel it,ride it out and rally from it. Possibly another approach might be better but I haven't found it. Some might say get yourself to church or get out and help others. Some might say a lot of things but what I am saying by sharing this entry is that people struggle. You might look and say things like " it's been eighteen years' or whatever else we say to assure ourselves that people are all right. The truth of it is each person has their triggers, their struggles and the times that are more difficult and they have their own ways of getting up each day and putting their feet on the floor. Each of us puts on a good face but the obstacles we face don't go away.But the next day comes and we keep putting one foot in front of the other.I am so thankful for wood road walks ,for Sunday suppers with my loved ones, for tears and laughter and for Mondays.

What 82 Moms Means to Me

I do not have time to write this entry. I am sure I could find a few more dusty surfaces, a dead fly of two to sweep up or some clutter to relocate but I am done. I will put the finger foods in the oven in twelve minutes then put the kettle on. My dear friends who have become the 82 Moms group that meet once a month will be arriving shortly after that . I said to Burton yesterday "Why do I put myself through this?" he wisely observed that I do this so that I can go to their homes (and eat all afternoon) for the other months of the year. There is something to that but having the 82 Moms in my life is so much more.I know that when it comes our turn we all clean and cook and try to plan a menu that will measure up to the food the others served. We do put our best foot forward but we also know that despite our frenzy of preparation our friends are not coming to inspect our houses or criticize our cooking.They come to catch up , to laugh and to sometimes cry. They come to hear of the joys, the sorrows ,the struggles and the victories. We tell of weddings and births, of sickness and loss. We hold each other up and expect to be held.We eat and celebrate another month in the lives we have been given. We all had babies in 1982. 1982 seems a lifetime ago and oh the changes we have all seen. But we gather together with a year in common and oh so much more.What a wonderful gift and well worth the effort it takes to welcome them in to my dusty and imperfect home. And for those of you that read my last blog entry, Burton scrubbed the back veranda this morning on his hands and knees. I love that man!

Talking Turkey

I am feeling much more generous, calmer and more forgiving and probably in a better frame of mind to talk turkey than I would have been when I got home after dark last night.I have just returned from a very good market day . The sun is shining brightly and I feel an optimism that had completely escaped me when I got home last night to our bevy of Christmas turkeys hunkered down in a huddle at my back door on my back veranda. By the way with a bevy of turkeys comes a massive amount of poop. A minefield of poop really in all descriptions from runny to solid lumps. Not a very nice topic and not a very nice thing to come home to.Turkeys are challenging to get in at night. Burton makes the constant strong argument that free range need to be FREE range and so they spend their days meandering wherever they want to go. To put them in for the night you have to start rounding them up at just the right time;not too dark, not too early when they have no intention of going to bed. ( this somewhat reminds me of getting kids to bed) You have to begin to round them up trying to keep them together, but invariably one of two fly off in the wrong direction tempting others to follow. You keep at it with the goal of getting them to move in a crowd as the momentum improves if they are herded closely together and move as one. Once you get them across the driveway it seems they get the message that it is bedtime. Usually with a few gentle reminders as you move the broom from side to side as they keep moving until you get them close to the shed and they file in. This method does not work at all if you wait too long and they have already decided they are having a sleepover on the back veranda. They don't understand that that is not a good idea or healthy for at least one or two of them which will probably become a midnight snack for a fox, a raccoon or a coyote that under the cover of darkness has no trouble coming in for the challenge and the reward.I did my best to attempt a round up but was only successful at herding them off the veranda and down in front of the basement door. I could not see any hope of getting them all the way across the yard and into their shed. I do not pick birds up. I do a lot of things but that has never been one of them. I came in very pissed off by the poop and very concerned that we would have fewer Christmas turkeys freely roaming in the morning.Sometime later after I was in bed Caleb came and heroically relocated the birds (by moving them individually I expect) and I haven't counted them since I got home but I think they are all accounted for. So now after a morning of selling books,seeing friends and neighbors and meeting new people I am venting in this manner. I just ate a delicious lunch of Massaman curry from a wonderful Thai vendor at the market. I will go tackle (scrape) the poop off the back veranda. Last night I was not sure I could live with such conditions. It hadn't helped that my absent husband had left his lunch mess in the pantry. Things are usually better the next day and I am glad we can't instantly file for divorce and end a forty year marriage in a moment of anger and frustration. Good thing I might add.

Another Sunday Morning

I am so thankful for Sunday mornings. I am weary this morning and actually slept in longer than I normally do. The sky is overcast but the air is warm. It looks like fall for sure and I have not rallied yet to tackle the day. I am pensive and somewhat melancholy and will take my time. I will start with this entry and go from there. First of all Sunday mornings are a time for thankfulness. I went to bed with thoughts of Caleb and Ashlie returning from a wedding in Fredericton and Meg and Cody in Jasper for a friend's funeral. Their friend was a victim of the horrendous massacre in Las Vegas. How to even get my head around that is more than I can do but I mourn with the girl's dad who yesterday buried his second child. My heart breaks for him. Caleb and Ashlie got home safely and for that I am so thankful. Another week begins and challenges lie ahead.I remember in the first few years of finding my way through grief I called these mornings my Sunday mournings. I usually listened to music, had a long bath and cried a lot of tears.Sunday morning remains a quiet, reflective time and I am so grateful for what this time provides. I regroup and draw on my reserves of strength to fit me for the week ahead.Sometimes I truly don't know where the next bit of energy or optimism is coming from. I sometimes during this time want to crawl back into to bed and escape the rest of the day. I seldom do and for that I am thankful. I usually hop to the rest of the day, accomplish a few things and prepare a Sunday supper for my loved ones. I love the trajectory this day offers when I take a few minutes or a couple of hours to just be in my weariness.

Oh So Thankful

I have been away. Away from my home and away from my computer. A week ago Sunday I flew to Meg's to surprise Paige for her birthday.I pulled it off and the girls were happy to see their Monkey. On Monday I did an author visit at their school and it was wonderful. It never ceases to amaze me how receptive kids are to my story and my journey to become an author. I spent the week just enjoying the company of Meg .Cody, Emma and Paige. Had some good food , some laughs, hugs and snuggles and left in time to get back for the market on Saturday. Despite my fatigue from an early morning arrival and operating on four hours of sleep I had a good market morning and received what I always receive when new and old readers gather at my table. The next day we drove to Kings Landing for our thirty first Thanksgiving meal at the Kings Head. It was wet and by the time we walked in we were drenched. It was such a welcome rain though so we tried not to complain too much. Yesterday I cooked our turkey dinner and pretty much everything that was presented was grown or raised on our farm. I love that feeling and am so thankful for the bounty. Burton and I took advantage of the warm afternoon and took a plunge in the lake. It was a quick and cold dip without the ceremony of my last swim on September 28th. We can say however that we swam on Thanksgiving Monday. Before I left I took my hard drive to Hampton for a cleaning and this morning I drove up and got it. So now I am back home and back on the computer and back on track looking ahead to writing days in October. The foliage is stunning. There are a few puddles and rain has soaked into the parched land.Some renovations are pending and I see some busy times ahead. So very much to be thankful for!