Tag Archives: good luck

White rabbits and birthday wishes

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It is the first day of the month and, like every beginning of the month, the first words uttered in my waking moments were “white rabbit, white rabbit, white rabbit”. I’m certainly not a superstitious person but this string of language is a long-standing family tradition.  My great cousin Agnes, a delightful lady with a thick Scottish brogue, introduced me to this tradition when I was still in single digits.  She was in her 80’s and she will be an influence in my life that I will never forget.

white rabbits

The idiom is meant to bring luck for the remaining days of the month but reciting that phrase gives me pause to remember cousin Agnes and the other family members and friends who are no longer with me.  When my dad was still with us, my phone would ring in the wee hours on the first of the month and, before even saying hello, we would say our white rabbits on the phone together.  Call display eventually helped to avoid the confusion of people on the other end of the phone if they happened to call before my dad. He was a very early riser and, as unlikely as that was, it happened once or twice and left a few bewildered callers wondering why I was shouting about albino bunnies.

Those simple words this morning were more important because today would have been my dad’s 77th birthday.  Saying those words on the first of this month was like my phone call to Heaven and I could hear his voice in my head saying them back to me at the same time. Though the distance that separates us is immeasurable, he is still never far from my heart.

In those brief moments when darkness still envelops the morning I find a sense of peace in those words.  Those two words, repeated three times in the haze of my waking moments, weave new threads into the blanket of my history.  That phrase warms my heart with memories of people and places that have been etched into my past.  That simple string of words uttered three times in a row will be with me paving the way into my future.

May the next thirty-one days be filled with good things for all of us.

Happy birthday Dad.  xo

There’s no place like home

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If you read my post yesterday, you’ll know I awoke out of a comfortable sleep and repeated the phrase “white rabbit” three times.  It’s an old family tradition meant to bring luck for the remaining days of that month.  I do believe we create our own luck to some extent, but there are definitely external forces, with perhaps a bit of Karma thrown in for good measure, that help propel us into those moments of good fortune.

I haven’t checked my astral projections to know if my stars were aligned yesterday (I don’t really do that), but the day was full of positive energy and the God’s seem to smile favorably upon me in many ways.  Probably the most exciting news was the possibility of writing a page for a local magazine that has a feature written by selected guest writers about the area that I am proud to call my home.  The decision will be made after the editor has decided that my writing prowess cuts the mustard, but I’m hopeful that I will pass the test.

Writing, to me, is about combining things I truly believe in with an honesty that the reader can not only relate to, but can find charm and warmth in the words that I feel strongly about putting on a page.  Writing is about bringing life and imagery to the forefront of the reader’s mind and helping them experience the same passion I feel for the subject about which I so diligently write and rewrite.

I know another blogger (and successful author) who is making the pilgrimage back to a place she truly calls home.  It is her muse and her refuge from a world that she blended into, but never could truly call her home.  I know that she will find solace in enveloping herself in the place she can genuinely feel like she is herself and that natural landscape will welcome her back with open arms.  There is no place like home.

My desire is that the panorama of my daily life and the poetry of my words will collide to create a spectral portrait and do justice to the beauty in which I am fortunate enough to spend my days and nights.  It is the song of my soul.  It is my true home.

With my writing cap on and my fingers poised above the keyboard, I will click my ruby slippers three times and forge into a tale of love for a landscape that has embedded itself into the cells of my being.  Home is where the heart is, and my heart only beats here.