Category Archives: memories

My wrinkles are my map

9 Comments

I don’t often stand and look in the mirror for great lengths of time.  Since I cut my hair short and I don’t wear much make-up there is really no need to linger at my reflection.  But this morning I did.  I made the usual faces one makes while looking at themselves and I really studied my face, each crease, each unique spot that has gradually appeared on my skin over the years.

I followed the lines of wrinkles starting to appear around my eyes and, although those fissures are permanent lines in what was once smooth skin, those lines created a map of places I had been in my life.  They are carved from life experiences that made me the person I am today.  Each of those lines tells a story and remembering some of those stories caused me to smile which only pronounced those lines even more.

Senior lady

I like to think I earned each and every one of those laugh lines because I took the time to truly enjoy the good moments I’ve had.   The small lines on my furrowed brow help remind me of the difficult and sad times, but times I undoubtedly learned a lesson or a coping skill.  Those wrinkles belong to me.  I choose to own them because I know the emotions they embody.  They are imprinted in my psyche as much as they are etched on my skin.

My wrinkles are my map.  They have led me from my past and, with the myriad of directions I may follow,  they will help guide me into my future.

An excellent “first date”

5 Comments

I’ve watched them from birth to now.  I’ve seen them take a few of their halted first steps and utter the beginning of many words to come.  I did not birth them, but I love them just as much as if I had.

The time has gone by so quickly and my nephews are now 15 and 12.  They are unique characters and very different from each other which makes them all the more fascinating to a person who does not see them every day.  I get fragmented pieces of time to create memories and I have realized that time is quickly running out before they fly from their nest.

I had a date with my 12-year old nephew tonight.  It was more like an expeditious speed-date but it was an hour that I got to spend with just him.  We laughed, we talked in funny accents and we allowed ourselves the freedom to just be silly and enjoy each others company.  He and I are very similar creatures and it was nice for both of us to recognize that bond.  He reads as voraciously as I did as a child and shares my animosity towards running.

My 15-year old nephew is the opposite.  He most likely thinks he will burst into flames if he had to read a novel.  His hours of leisure, and work, are spent at a golf course.  He lives and breathes golf.  He has found his passion and it is something at which he excels.  He and I have yet to have our date but I will be asking him soon and I am  hoping to make these dates a recurring event before I blink and they are both in their twenties.

I want these moments.  I want to create this stronger bond before they have gone off to college and the miles are stretched between us.  I selfishly crave those snippets of time where I see signs of them becoming the men they will continue to be throughout their lives.  I want them to know how proud I am of the strengths they possess and encourage them to never let anyone try to change their ideals.

smallest things

(image credit)

These dates may seem like small things to them but the memories we create will reside in my heart, and hopefully their hearts, for many years to come.

I really did have a senior’s moment

4 Comments

I was working on an itinerary for an upcoming bus tour this fall and flashed back to a bus tour we had last fall.

old couple-743330

(image credit)

Was I guilty of ageism?  Perhaps.  But when the senior’s euchre tournament bus tour arrived at the lodge on that fateful Sunday, I was genuinely dreading the three days that would follow.  I made an egregious error in judgement.

Admittedly, the tour had not begun well for the 42 participants but the fault was not ours.  A slight hiccup in their agenda had caused them to arrive an hour and a half early and we were thoroughly unprepared for the sudden onset of walkers, luggage and upset elders.  We did our best to scramble and be as accommodating as possible.   I made a witty speech welcoming them on behalf of the owners and staff and my words were met with sullen stares and moderate contempt.  It was a bumpy start.

Once we regained control, our momentum increased and we began to get everyone settled into their rooms. I had entered first and once Betty and Rose reached those three stairs Betty took the lead.  Once she was at the top, Rose began to follow.  Betty reached for the door frame and found nothing but a handful of air.  As I turned to look behind me, Betty, doing her best impression of a tree being felled in the forest, fell straight backwards and took Rose out, using her as a cushion for the fall.  The two ladies I had escorted to their room had just fallen and couldn’t get up.   Thankfully we got them into an upright and relatively stable position and, after many unqualified examinations, we deemed they were medically stable.

The group’s first dinner was an interesting event.  Still unsure of their surroundings, many uttered complaints that hung in the air like angry cartoon balloons.  There were threats of husbands being called to retrieve them the following morning and the night was punctuated by another woman being hit in the head by a heartily kicked-open kitchen door.  In the span of six hours, we had potentially concussed three women.

But then something changed.  Over the course of the following 60 hours, attitude and understanding rapidly evolved on both sides.  We understood the nature of their initial frustration and they understood the nature of our good will and hospitality.  By the end of their three night stay, I was calling them all by their first name and I was truly sad to see them climb the stairs to get back on the bus.  There were many hugs and talks of seeing them again next year.  I will admit that I was close to tears saying goodbye to these lovely souls.

Perhaps it was the sideways glances I got from Rose that reminded me so much of my mom.  Maybe it was that bond of parenthood I have been missing since my mom and dad passed.  Whatever the reason, I will be ready and willing to welcome that next bus tour with open arms and use this enlightening experience as a lesson for the future.

In youth we learn, with age we comprehend

8 Comments

I did a lot of things as a child – some are noteworthy and deserve mention and some I’m not so proud of, so I won’t expound on those moments.  I did make amends for those things that were not becoming of a young lady and I’m sure I learned from my mistakes because they were never repeated.

As much as I think I learned from those errs in judgement, I did not truly understand the consequences of those fateful actions until I was much older and reflecting on my youthful days.  The mirror has become a time portal and, as I gaze at my reflection, I see a much younger version of myself.   The translation was naive, a girl who thought she got it, but she was so far from “it” that she could never comprehend that distance.  It’s like the old adage “if I knew then what I know now”.  But if that were the case I probably never would have made the mistakes in the first place to teach me the lessons that I would come to comprehend so much later in my older and much wiser years.

Reflections-of-Time_2

Time is a fickle mistress.  She has a way of seeping into our conscious realm when we least expect her.  She inadvertently brings up memories from our long-buried past to insinuate a lesson that we may have overlooked.  I can say from personal experience that there are many things I may have “learned” as a child, even as a young adult, but the learning portion was a mere drop in the bucket compared to what I truly gained from the comprehension of the true meaning of that lesson as I got older.

There certainly are things I would tell the younger version of myself if I could go back in time but, for the most part, I would live my life again because it shaped the person I am today, flaws and all.  Those misgivings I had as a child, the uncertainty of who I was, led me to make mistakes.  There was a fine line between being good and being bad and for a while I hung on the precipice, unsure of which force was stronger and which power would pull me in.

Looking back at those moments, now that I am beyond that cataclysmic time in my pubescent life, I can truly understand how those stages of life burrowed their way into my brain.  They were stored until the moment I could truly appreciate the lesson that was entrusted to the vault in my memory and now I really do get it.  What I may have learned in those formidable years I can truly understand now and appreciate the message.

What lesson do you appreciate most, now that you are old enough to understand its true message?

 

Peeling back the layers of the onion

2 Comments

It is rare to find people who you can talk to about anything.  Words seem to just flow and nothing you say is awkward or judged.  There is no pause in the natural ebb of the conversation and there is no deflection to inane topics like the weather.   The connection exists on so many levels that no topic is off-limits.

Those people are hard to come by and each time you find yourself encapsulated in their presence, the synergy grows.  The things you anticipated would generate a look of surprise become predicted and that person peels back the skin of your onion, exposing another layer and getting closer to the core of your existence.  Sometimes that onion will cause some tears along the way but the true essence of its flavor will far outweigh the arbitrary drops of saline along the way.

onion

(image credit: flickr.com)

Words can be weapons but words can also be gateways into a meaningful relationship that is based on a true appreciation of what the other person represents in our lives.  Whether it is pre-destined chemistry or the slow development a true affection, the words uttered truly matter.  They are not said to fill a block of time.  They are communicated because of a shared interest in what is being said.  They are expressed in moments of affinity.

When conversation flows, it flows because of an unspoken bond.  It flows because two people feel a level of comfort that is achieved by honesty and a genuine interest in what the other person has to say.  It flows because they care about the words being said.  Minutes turn into moments and those moments linger through time.  Those moments repeat themselves and the conversation flows so freely that becomes etched in our memory and our lives are changed forever.

Happy Mother’s Day

2 Comments

mom-holding-baby

She birthed me and swaddled me,

she showered me with love.

Her arms always embraced me,

they fit me like a glove.

Her words were the only ones,

that could help to heal my scars.

Hers was the only light,

that would comfort me in the dark.

She woke me up to play with me,

she laughed at all my jokes.

She sang with me to old musicals,

although she couldn’t hold the notes.

Her faith in my abilities,

has stood the test of time.

She’s the portrait of what a mother should be,

and I’m glad that she is mine.

So, here’s to you, mom, on this special day,

my love for you has no end.

You’re my giver of life, my confidant,

and will always be my best friend.

And though my wishes are sent further today,

into a world I am unable to touch.

I know you hear my words of love

and they will forever mean just as much.

***

I wrote this two years ago when my mom was still alive and added the last stanza in her memory. The words today ring just as true as they did then. I hope she is planting her heavenly garden and the sun is shining on her face.

Happy Mother’s Day to all moms.

roses

More than just brush strokes on a piece of wood

Leave a comment

I had forgotten

that freedom of imagination

was the best part of being a kid.

Time has marched on,

but memories of childhood still linger.

Tears were shed and wiped,

but the laughter still echoes

in the hallways of my mind.

A piece of wood,

a few hours of shared time by siblings

and memories captured

on a cedar shingle.

IMG_1903[1]

These are the memories

I never want to lose.

The days of innocence,

painted on wood,

frozen in time.

Keeping a piece of you with me

6 Comments

butterfly

This pendant hangs around my neck,

a talisman of angelic proportion,

to be a gentle reminder of a life that once was.

This simple butterfly

holds the key to my beginning

and serves as a great source of comfort

when I feel like I am falling

into the abysmal chasm of grief.

For this charm holds a piece of you,

of each of you,

and I draw strength knowing that a part of you

will always be with me,

there to give me that sense of your presence

whenever I need it most.

Ashes to ashes

as yours are forever bound to the other.

(image credit)

The portal of wants and wishes

11 Comments

I love dreaming.  I love waking up in the morning and putting together the pieces of colors and images that have splashed themselves onto the blank canvas in my sleep.  I thrive on spending time over coffee attempting to put together the jigsaw cut-outs and make sense of what they are trying to tell me.   Mornings are a constant source of recollection, collaboration and interpretation.   The maelstrom of the previous day becomes a masterpiece in my dreams that only I can put together the next day to make any sense of it.

Does that ever happen to you?  You spend so many conscious hours with something or someone at the forefront of your brain that they unwittingly seep into your nocturnal hours and wreak havoc in your dreams?  And it may not be the type of havoc that has you waking in a panic, covered in sweat, but the thought of them is left lingering in your mind to chase you around for another day.  It happens to me quite often with a myriad of things I encounter during my day.  It could be work or it could be a person I just can’t seem to shake from my thoughts.  I spend so many minutes of my day thinking about those things that I carry them into my dream world in a back pack that seems to open of its own volition and spill out into the landscape of my REM sleep.

(Image courtesy of Google)

And it is not that I go to bed with these thoughts whirling around in my head.  I have found a way to relax my brain before I drift off into that long-awaited slumber and wipe the stress and experience of the day from my mind.  But no matter what good intentions I have as I let the night pull down the shades of my eyelids, those waking thoughts transform themselves in my nightscape and travel through that mystical door of my dreams.  The invisible portal is opened and a new world of ideas and scenarios creeps into my subconscious.

And sometimes, if I wake early with the dream still lingering in the realm between awake and asleep, I long to get back to the dream.  Cherished moments, although created in another dimension of my reality, seem so real that I can live there again if I could only drift back into sleep.  My wishes wait there for me.  My desire holds firmly in its place to anticipate my safe arrival back through the portal of my dream world.

However, the invasion of my reality into those dreams is anticipated.  On occasion, work and family are now holding the seats in the front row of the performance of my dream to watch as the scene plays out for those final moments of my reanimated sleep.  The panorama that I had so carefully constructed in the previous hours of my dream world becomes interrupted with more genuine actuality than was originally anticipated.  Somehow that carefree abandon is now speckled with a plethora of reality and the dream that I truly wanted to dream about is invaded less by my unconscious and is now dominated by my conscious waking moments.  My dream is now a host to real life.

What about you?  Do your dreams take you on an adventure or do your dreams consist more of your reality?

The birthday present that keeps giving

26 Comments

The first phone call today won’t be my mom or my dad calling to wish me a happy birthday but somehow I know theirs will be the first wishes of the day.  That is how it always was and how it shall remain.  And the first face I shall see when I wake up is the same face (or close to the same face) it has been since I was a child.

???????????????????????????????

My mom made this Winnie The Pooh for my first birthday in 1970 .  Since then he has helped celebrate my successes, been suffocated in my hugs, saturated in my tears and dragged through more drama than a bear should have to face.  But his allegiance to our friendship remains just as strong now as it was then.

Birthday celebrations would not be the same without Winnie.  It may be a childish tradition but that bear represents a great deal of love and a longing to hold on to the memories that mean so much.  He has seen his share of joy and tragedy.  He has undergone facial reconstruction and some botched plastic surgery (thanks to an over-excitable Labrador Retriever that belonged to a roommate) but he never fails to hang in there to share year after year with me. He and I have weathered many successes and many ominous periods together but he still remains the same source of comfort he has always been.

I can’t imagine a birthday celebration without him.  And now that my mom is gone, Winnie is the strongest connection to her that I can still hold in my hands.  His abiding presence in my life not only allows me to look to the future but keeps me rooted in my past.

Happy birthday Winnie.  May we be together, sharing our day, for many years to come.