IN to NC 15/31

Friday. Marks a week of calls, creative adjustments and new plans for move of “stuff”. I didn’t anticipate those processes being more of a challenge than transporting the family pet across several states and many hours. Chalk it all up to doable challenge I suppose.

Overtime equates to the work week not being over at the close of today. Had the normal 40 hours for this gig been in effect, I would have gotten to leave yesterday at noon. I’ve decided it will be easier to embrace this week into the next two work weeks as a unit of time that won’t be measured in hours but rather in conclusions of tasks. We’ll see if that masks the other ways I would otherwise choose to spend my non-work time.

As the Universe smiles upon me, reminding me to see humor in things large and small, I just opened a “Recognition of Service” thank-you card from my employer. Early February would mark my 17th year of service.

This week also brought about a daily text exchange with someone who’d been out of touch for a number of years. The brief interlude has been fun, past shared experiences recalled, through as few as a handful of words that spark the reason we possibly connected originally.

The Universe smiles.



IN to NC 9/31

Another large box packed.

Spinning tunes, vinyl and CD, desiring to fill quiet.

Will lunch with a friend today before heading to a gathering on her behalf, a birthday celebration. The majority of us joining are part of a book club that has been going strong for over eight years. Not all of us have been involved that long, but with the exception of two, this friend was instrumental in each of us meeting. We have all become friends. I wonder does she know, the gift she has given us. Realized on her birthday.

Weekend countdown to move: 3

IN to NC 8/31

Lunch today with a friend who will be celebrating her birthday Sunday. It may be the last time we share face time before I depart to all things NC. I’m blessed by a multitude of these lasts. Each I have felt, gentle flicks upon the skin, a call to attention physically to what I am also feeling emotionally. Fully present in each moment.



Engaging Connection

With a U.S. recognized holiday approaching, families (by creation or design) will gather to share their time, hearty food creations and perhaps a thanks or two for all that is good and kind in their lives. Others will be spending the holiday in other ways, significant to them, and perhaps also with dedicated recognition of blessings and good fortune.

Whether solo or many, here is an engaging way for all of us to be connected through a shared word/story experience. Here, via Seth Godin, a free resource and idea for your U.S. Thanksgiving or a time of dedicated thanks-giving wherever you are in the world.

A Thanksgiving Reader,

Loss Lingers and More

Our phone conversation coming to a close, she says “Happy Mother’s Day”.  I respond in kind with heartfelt measure.  Disconnecting the call, my face crumbles, and there is it. Again. Loss. Grief. Longing.  This memory recall within my center. Mom.

She feels it I know. How she is missed.  Yet it is important she continues her healing journey toward peace, on that higher plain, joined by the others that are also missed.

I then stand here and will joy and gratitude to return.

And I wish all of my sisters, aunts, nieces, cousins, friends, as mothers or as mothered, here and beyond, a heartfelt Happy Mother’s Day.

My mom and my daughter

My mom and my daughter. Skagit Valley Tulip Festival, 2000


The fierce warrior within, dormant, unnamed, was awakened

well before that first open-mouthed, toothless grin formed around

the spoonful of carrots when she saw me walk toward her…

Checking under the bed to make sure, again, there are no scary things;

tucked in with blessings and prayers for family, friends;

assurance the angels are keeping watch…

Kissing scrapes after tumbles to quickly transpired for me to divert…

Sharing in her joy with a new friendship secured, sharing her sadness as it fades…

Connecting in our laughter, the story unimportant;

the memory of the laughter remains and is revisited in our conversations…

Fierce and loving protector always, specifically born for her I think…

Ah, what we don’t know, until we do, given all the precautions, guidelines,

safety measures we are taught to teach —

the proper way to brush teeth, the look left-right-left move before crossing the street,

bundling up against the cold…

Is that fierce warrior Me, always desiring to protect and keep her safe,

free from harm to the best of my ability, has been schooled…

I am unable to protect her from herself…