It's September 11th. Such an ominous day for one and all. Nine years ago, we witnessed the tragedy and mayhem of the hijacked planes, burning buildings, and loss of life. That day was truly beautiful weather-wise. Much like today with warm temperatures, clear skies and brilliant sun. I remember sitting outside with my youngest, Jacob, watching him play in the garden as the butterflies and bees went about their business. Our little patch of suburban eden was untouched by the terrible events unfolding to the south. Observing all the well-intentioned folks going about their daily routines, I knew that nothing would ever be the same again. Fear would be our new companion and worry its constant associate.
Friday, September 11, 2020
Monday, June 22, 2020
We are lumbering through the advent of summer along the Hudson. Despite all the trappings of privilege, it's still a hard passage to cobble together well being and the simmering pains and losses of the past can boil over so that the glass appears half empty and frustration absorbs all the oxygen in the air.
You have to focus on gratitude then. For lack of apparent illness, for the stability of a roof overhead, food to eat and the comfort of friends even as the house harbors more difficult memories than are easy to address. Then you have to hope today and tomorrow afford more chances to do better and put life in to perspective.
We all bear wounds that resist healing, Some do better with resolution or find a way to forgive themselves or others. As for myself, I am trying to coax more optimism from each moment and wish you the same.
Monday, May 11, 2020
Words fail me. Last fall was a tough interval where I saw my fledging relationship fall apart- well- I'll go with the "wasn't meant to be" line of thinking. And then this insanely horrible pandemic of Covid- 19 descended and things have gone to hell in a hand basket. I thought refraining from sharing (or oversharing) made sense, given how awful the devastation caused by this virus between loss of life and the economy reduced to its shell as we ride this wave of contagion out. There are just no words and only prayers as we plug along in our social isolation, hoping we are doing enough to protect ourselves from ourselves and one another.
Life pre-Covid shimmers as s recent memory of mobility, socializing and commerce and now it's all virtual from the relative comfort of being bound to the home. There will be a life post-Covid and I'll be grateful for what we didn't lose when life allows a return to old routines and vow to make greater efforts to count my blessings even more than before.
Friday, October 18, 2019
Thursday, August 29, 2019
I've been silent on this forum and I am short on excuses. Too busy. Instagram. Full time job. Fried. Tired. Everything moves forward. My kids at 26, 23 and 21 are living their best lives or trying to and it brings me a lot of happiness that the setbacks are manageable and mostly good things happen. Hard to ask for more. Time has taken a more precious aspect- things feel fleeting and it's important to savor every moment you can. What remains as I grow older hovers expectantly and I hope for as much as one can.
The mornings in late August ring with crickets and the hint of autumn bring back memories of my kids drinking in the last of vacation and how anticipation mounts for the return to the classroom and the mix of faces familiar and new. The haircuts. The grumbling. The shopping. The scheduling. Regimentation is back. At their current ages, managing their own affairs and needing mostly financial assistance, I now bear witness to these weeks of transition. I remember my own going off to school, I remember the longing for my own children pre-motherhood, to meet at the bus, and today, I observe the parents pushing carts in Staples, clutching lists, and the add-ons attractively packaged to catch their kid's eye as they roam the aisles. The satisfaction I got from meeting their needs.
My life has morphed from parent to working woman and it's a transition I embrace because I had no other good options. The past three years has brought tremendous change and as I write it's likely my days in Sleepy Hollow (24 years and counting) are numbered and a different chapter awaits. Two of my children were conceived in this bedroom and the majority of my family life happened in this house. No wonder it's hard to imagine what it would be like to actually leave.
(and for another take on summer's end click here.)