Take a Deep Breath

Oh the gift of this day. The gift of my comfortable home (and bed). The gift of my loving husband. The gift of my two loyal dogs.The gift of my bathtub and scalding hot water.The gift of time and silence and clearing my head.My last entry spoke of the chaos and the demands of the days ahead. A former student responded to that entry and gave me assurance that the blessings of home would be waiting for me . Her words gave me such comfort . I know this to be true . I have on so many occasions felt the wonder of arriving home after busy and chaotic days away so it should not surprise me. Today I take a deep breath, I process all that has been and all the blessings the last few days afforded me. My daughter and granddaughter were among the best of those blessings. Our time seemed rushed, brief and sporadic but so meaningful. Emma's smile as she walked through the airport gate with such joy in surprising her Monkey will hold a special place in my memories of these days. My beautiful daughter's quiet presence interspersed with wit and wisdom while she worked through her physical pain to be a part of my celebration was so appreciated. They were blessed with safe travel back home to their life and the challenges they face in the next few weeks.Years ago when Caleb was just a little boy I attended a Maritime Writer's Workshop. They were held at UNB and I was lucky enough to attend two of them. Thinking back it was Burton who made that first one happen for me. He heard about it on CBC and pushed me to register. At the time the $300 plus entry fee seemed extravagant and impossible but he made it happen . Leaving four kids seemed impossible too but we worked it out. I remember writing five year old Caleb a letter that week explaining to him where I was , why I was away and that I was a writer and being a writer would take me away, sometimes for a few minutes , a few hours, days or weeks at a time. I acknowledged that in my time away changes would take place. He would be a little browner, a little taller and a little closer to leaving me and becoming a man. I reminded him of the day he climbed on my lap and hugged me when he found me crying in front of the words I'd written on the computer screen.He'd said. "Read it to me Mommy". After I read the passage his reply was " That's you isn't it Mommy." Last night it occurred to me as I looked at my son ,now a tall handsome man that he still watches as I write the words , cry the tears and take those words out to the wider world. He knows his mother is a writer and he like his sister, his brothers and his father have been with me every step of the journey.That loving support ,deep breaths, a grateful heart, and rejuvenating days will keep this writer going.