Mid December Rain

Here in Southern NB we are getting heavy rain. Our yard and driveway look like a muddy spring mess. My son Chapin is building their house and has had several beautiful days for working. Today the rain has given him a rest. Each day I walk down and look at the amazing progress he is making. An impressive home is taking shape on top of a hill far down the wood road our family has enjoyed for years. On a New Years days twenty four years ago we had a picnic down that road. Meg, Chapin and I hauled Cale down on his sled and met Zac and Burton in the woods for lunch. It was one of my favorite memories and every time I walk by the spot I remember how wonderful the day was. Chapin and Bri are building their home around the corner from our picnic site. Saturday I looked up at my two sons working together placing the posts and beams that will support a home and a future for Chapin and Brianne. I was proud on every level. Walking back out the road I thought again of that beautiful winter day and all the days Burton and I laid the strong foundation for the life and the family we were blessed with. I am thrilled that those traditions and values are being carried on. Our sons are amazing carpenters and are both resourceful and visionary. Years from now these days will be the memories. The busy demanding days of the fall of 2015 that Chapin was consumed with building their home will be part of our collective memory. It will be hard to remember when the house did not stand atop the hill looking out over the lake. The day of that winter picnic will have faded even further back in our minds. But the importance of the days we spend together will not fade. These are the days that matter!

You Can't Breathe Under Water

This morning I can't seem to shake these thoughts and despite my long list of tasks that I hope will get me through the difficulty of this day I am sitting down and attempting to write an entry giving voice to what I am feeling. Please bear with me. Life is filled with grief. It comes at us every time we turn on the news or meet with friends or neighbors or engage in a casual conversation at the grocery store. We are bombarded with stories of loss. Accidents, sudden deaths, prolonged illnesses, violence , fires , it goes on and on. It is what life is and has always been. Compassionate and caring people process those stories of loss , give voice to that compassion, exchange words of sympathy and horror and support one another . It can sometimes seem overwhelming as in instances of mass sorrow like 911,Columbine and the Paris shootings. It can make one feel like they are drowning. I have a friend that does not listen to the news and I think she is on to something but even with a no news policy suffering leaks in to our everyday . If you have stopped reading I don't blame you. I almost stopped writing but I am going to try to get back to what occurred to me this morning. Collective and selective grieving is very different than personal grieving and of course every one of the situations we hear of has at the core of it the personal and very real grief of the people it is actually happening to. I compare the two to swimming above and below the water. When you are feeling the grief as one only hearing about it you have your head above water swimming through the sadness of it and usually it is a quick effortless swim. Sometimes when it is so unimaginable you swim in rougher water even needing to hold one another up or grab a life preserver of some kind to ride out the treacherous waves. You might be in danger of loosing your breath for a moment but you are still above the water. When the grief is your own that grief plunges you deep under the water. Those first few hours days and months you sometimes feel that you will never catch your breath. You will never break through the surface and breathe freely again. But you do. Something, someone, some power forces you to the surface and you find the way to swim there on your own. But the thing is you get plunged down there over and over again. That is the difference between what you feel when you feel others pain and loss and what you feel when you experience your own. That is just the way it is and does not make what you feel for others or what others feel for you less than what it is. It is just reality. The loss you must bear is yours alone and the effort it takes to swim to the surface when you find yourself under water comes from just doing it over and over . Some days it is harder than others. But you can't breathe under water. I am thankful for everything in my life that propels me to the surface and makes swimming up from the deep water worth while.

Did You Write Charlotte's Web?

I love the questions kids ask me. Yesterday I had the pleasure of spending the day at Bayside Middle School. As always kids amuse me and amaze me with their questions. The group I spent the morning with were generous and insightful . They had participated in a book club. Six kids read one of my four books. What better gift for an author than to meet readers of all four books in one room? And these readers were keen, anxious to give their thoughts and opinions and ready to ask questions. We ended the morning with them writing one reason someone should read the book they had read. I will share a few of those. Then I asked them to write more questions down and I told them I would answer them on my blog. Jenna said " The Memory Chair is beautifully written with a spectacular story to tell." Chloe said " Ten Thousand Truths paints a story in my head ."Danielle said" The Year Mrs. Montague Cried is really touching and it's the best book I've read this year." Brenden said "I think you should read The Sewing Basket because there are a lot of events going on. This makes you want to keep your eyes open almost like an eye spy book or a word search." And then there were the questions. Ryan asked- Besides writing and swimming what is your favorite pastime. Knitting and eating maybe. Mary asked-How did you get the ideas for these books? from life. Robyn asked -What's your middle name? Ruth. Heather asked-Do you ever wonder if any of your students read your books? Yes and I know that some do. Xavier asked Who inspired you to start writing? Lots of people mostly other writers. Emily asked-What made you want to start writing? I like a good story. Isaiah asked- Would you ever write a book with you in it? I probably already have .Lucy asked Can writing books make you frustrated? yes. Luke didn't ask me anything. I guess I had answered all his questions already. Morgan asked-When were you born? 1956 Brenden asked- Who is your favorite actor? Sean Penn. Alex asked-What's your favorite movie? I am Sam. Jaymin asked-What's your favorite TV show? Newsroom. Heather asked-How long does it take to write your book and pick out a title? Sometimes 10 months to write a book sometimes six weeks. Sometimes a long time to get the right title and sometimes I know it right from the start. Bailey asked-Do you have any siblings? 2 brothers. Shannon asked- How long did it take you to write the books all together? About four years. Emily asked-What got you to write Ten Thousand Truths? a boy named Travis. Mikayla asked-What's the favorite book you've written? I don't know for sure. They are all my favorite in some way. Danielle asked-How does it feel being a popular writer? In this room right now it feels good. Kale didn't write anything down but what she probably wanted to ask me was " Why can't you get my name right? as I kept messing her name up all morning. Reese asked-Besides the epilogue what was the most emotional chapter for you to write in TYMMC. January 23 &February 20. Chloe asked- What was the biggest crowd you ever talked in front of? over 100 in the theatre at Hampton High School. Jenna asked - What is your biggest piece of advice for writers? Just write. Then the best question of the afternoon went to Gauge . No I did not write Charlotte's Web. I wish I had . I showed him that it was published in 1952 and explained I was born in 1956 and that my name was Susan not EB. Another memorable day at Bayside Middle School!

December Again

Tomorrow December comes again. I just read my entry from last year entitled Deciding on December. I read all my last year December days in my journal this morning after writing yesterday's events. When I read those entries I feel so many emotions. This time last year we were letting Leonard go. We had no choice on that of course. We had to let his last days unfold as they would as we had no control over it. I had flown to Meg's, surprising them all to have some pre-Christmas time with my precious granddaughters. I spent Zac's 36th birthday doing important things like meeting Emma at the bus, making gingerbread houses and reading with the girls. The next day I went with Meg and we found her beautiful wedding dress. I came home the day Leonard died and we found our way through that as best we could. Caleb and Ashlie had a severe case of food poisoning which made December a huge challenge for them. We had a simple and special Christmas and as I remember those days I fill with gratitude that we had those moments together. So here we are again deciding on December. The years go flying by. It is so hard to believe that this will be our 17th Christmas without Zac. My heart breaks for Shelley and Noah as they face the first one without Jessica. I know that pain and I hold them in my thoughts and prayers. I also hold on tightly to what I know. I look back to last December and all the Decembers before and celebrate the confidence and the hope that this December will bring the blessings and gifts that all the others did. The challenges are not easy but we will make deliberate choices that will get us through another December.

Back From the Rock

Home again ,home again,jig,jig,jig . I never drive up our driveway after a trip away without reciting that rhyme and I always think of Burton's mother when I do. Not sure when but sometime along the way her reciting that line stuck with me . That line for me means I am back to the comfort and peace of my Walton Lake home. Wherever I travel it is that sight that I love the most! We saw some amazing sites on the west coast of Newfoundland. What rugged stark and stunning beauty those cliffs, coves and surrounding water create. And what warm and wonderful people. It was certainly worth the long drive and the uncertain ferry schedule. Our sailing was cancelled three times but we enjoyed the hospitality of Lew and Stacey Short as they put us up and treated us like family. I highly recommend The Short's bed and breakfast or should I say bed, supper , lunch and a drink or two. Stacey is an amazing cook. As anxious as I was to get home we couldn't have asked for a better place to wait out the high winds. So my first trip to the west coast of Nfld is behind me and I have new friends and great memories to take away. I now get back to work on the edits for my next book that will come out in the spring. It was given a new title as I sat waiting and I will let that settle and take form as I return to the story that continues to improve in the editing process. Have I said enough just how grateful I am for the gift I have been given and the opportunity to see my fifth book take shape? We had safe travels, good laughs and great stories and here we are home again , home again, jig, jig ,jig.

Remembering

Yesterday was a bleak, dreary, cold settling in kind of day ; a typical November 11th. A large crowd gathered in front of the flag and cenotaph to once again remember. Names were called, wreaths were laid and the crowd stood solemnly for those few minutes we give every year to honor those that have made the sacrifice for our freedom. The sights and sounds were familiar and an occasion when young and old gather with the same intention. Across our country this was repeated in every community, village, town and city. At 11:00 we stood in solidarity to remember. I was asked to speak at the afternoon's dinner at the Legion. I gave a lot of thought to what I would say before sitting down to write my talk . The talk could certainly not be all about me. Suffering and loss is so universal and so a part of the solemnness of Remembrance Day. Each individual of the collective statistic of suffering comes with a story , a family , loved ones left behind. I had the pleasure of meeting Debbie Sullivan , Chris Saunders's mom. I have seen her in the last few years laying a wreath in her son's memory but I had never met her and talked to her and shared with her the bond we have , the sorrow of a mother's heart. I hope the words I chose were uplifting and meaningful to those that gathered. I was truly honored to have been asked.

Now it's November

November has arrived. With it comes time change and another season approaching. Thursday's rain and wind storm pretty much whipped the leaves from the trees leaving only a few with any color. November , the bleak month takes the stage. Last night as the darkness descended an hour earlier than the day before I realized that I welcome November even though it is so drastic in it's persona. I love the coziness it brings. The warm house and early darkness calls us away from the business of summer days and evenings and the demands of autumn's harvest and clean up tasks. We get ready to settle in for the winter first with the call to Christmas and then the long winter months ahead. I feel a familiar tug to the traditions of the past; the seasonal landmarks and the comforts of home and family. I don't mind the starkness of November at all. The cold and barren outdoors pushes us inside for rest and rejuvenation so that we will appreciate and be ready for the promise of Spring. I am so thankful for the comforts of home now that it is November!