Quality Time

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Jaq, keepin’ it real. Yo.

 

This morning we get to play every Homeowner’s favorite game. Second only to Where-Is-That-Water-Coming-From and the, always popular, Guess-What’s-Broken-Now. This morning, we all get to play What-Died-in-Here-and-Where-is-it. It’s the fabulous game that no one wants to play and everyone wants someone else to win….Oh Goody. Continue reading “Quality Time”

Dawn Breezes

Coffee with cream,

steaming into dawn as

a sweet breeze sifts my hair.

Eyes closed in stillness

I hear the ocean in these rustling, rustling leaves

as if the trees speak in the language of waves.

And I wonder if, instead

it’s the ocean calling with the voices of trees.

As the rising steam moves softly sideways and away

I imagine these trees speaking of the shore

as

the ocean dreams of the forest.

And coffee with cream

shifts the waves

of morning leaves.

 

UniverseCheck.

forestcheckPhoto Credit: Anita Bowen Photography

Speaking up for Cake

I pushed it, again. I know I pushed it. The last week of the school year was thundering down when I started coughing. I pushed through; there didn’t seem to be any other choice. We are so close to the end and there’s too much to handle to take a day off.

It was the last day of school, there are 10 preschoolers ready to graduate, 30 or so parents, siblings and grandparents who have made plans to attend our Celebration. The presentation includes lots of songs, stories, and I woke up with laryngitis. Because, of course I did. Continue reading “Speaking up for Cake”

Morning Blue

The radio calls from across the dark bedroom. It’s just loud enough to break the web of sleep and is carefully set to a station too irritating to ignore. The walk around the bed, the reach for the tiny ‘off’ button is enough to lift me into a new day. Too dark to see the dawn, yet it’s surely on the way. Birds are just beginning, hesitantly, to call.

The seed of a new day is planted each night. I picture myself reaching under the pillow to grasp it, the promise of a new day. There is only one each morning and it is ours to ignore, or use, or waste and throw away. If I remembered more often, that each one is a gift, one of only a limited number, I imagine I’d be wiser with each day.

However, it’s easy to blink through the morning, sigh through the afternoon, and ease into bed at the end wondering what happened to the day. What did happen to the day?

“Pay attention”, said all my teachers, ever. “Pay attention.” I yawn as I stumble through another morning and stand, blinking, for the shower to warm enough to step into. There are only so many rainy afternoons, so many evenings with friends. And, yes, only so many dark and chilly mornings. The question isn’t how many.

The question is, what to do with this gift we are given. What to do with this one day, this one morning, this one minute, this one gift.

UniverseCheck.

Photo Credit: Anita Bowen Photography

 

Unclean? Most Likely

It came in the mail a few weeks ago, The advertisement from The Cleaning Authority: Clean Homes, Clean Earth.

“Unhappy with your MAID SERVICE?” reads the pamphlet. Yeah, I’m unhappy with my maid service! “Maybe it’s time to clean house!” Yes, my house always needs a good cleaning. It, in no way, resembles anything you’d find in a magazine or home catalog. My domestic help is lacking in both skills and motivation and I open the mailer to see what’s to be done.

The advertisement from The Cleaning Authority includes a list of services these Mighty Angels of Hygiene will perform on a regular and rotating basis. I glance at the list, intending to toss it in the recycle bin with all the other requests for money, but don’t. It’s a gripping read…fascinating and sort of horrifying. I’ve nothing against them….except the damn bar. They’ve raised the bar! I liked the bar.

“Save this chart”, it reads “and next time your cleaning service leaves, take it around and see if they did everything we do.”

These delightful experts will dust ceiling fans, dust lamps shades, clean windowsills, and wipe the fronts of appliances...ON A REGULAR BASIS. These need to be done? On a regular basis? You kidding me? Base boards wiped, kitchen furniture hand wiped, furtiture and upholstery vacuumed. These need to be done, too? The only time my kitchen chairs are hand-wiped is when they are lucky enough to suffer a spill. Shower doors given extra attention. Shower doors? I don’t even have shower doors. Now, I have to get shower doors in order to give them the extra attention they, regularly, need.

What kind of mother am I without sanitized floors and hand-wiped furniture? The crushing inadequacy! I consider hanging it on the fridge to refer to it every so often to check whether I’ve scrubbed my grout and spot cleaned my doors. Maybe, I’ll work my way down the list and start back on the top and I stop. No.

I toss it in the recycling and pour another cup of coffee. There, I cleaned up.

One Day

imageSome days you’re only one of many, many stones.

Some days you’re the stick, balancing it all.

One day you’ll find you’re neither one.

You’ll stand up, brush off the sand, and walk away wondering what all that was about.

One day, you become yourself.

UniverseCheck.

Photo Credit: Anita Bowen Photography

 

Moth at Midnight

The full moon lit the hallway at midnight. I was still half asleep when I stepped out into the hall and was groggily surprised to meet a man with a sword. He was side-stepping, cautiously toward the bathroom; I was just thirsty.

And there was my son, looming tall, home for Spring Break, and armed in the middle of the night, laughing quietly.  Of course.

“It’s in there.” He whispers gesturing with, what I see now is, a wooden kitana. The sword, I notice blearily, has been improved with the addition of a ruler attached to the end. It’s clamped to the end of the sword, clamped with a Staples alligator clamp. Of course.image

“It’s really big and it’s so loud.” He grabbed the flexible ruler and twanged it with a sproing sound. “Aren’t you glad you sent me to college?” He laughed.

Okay, I’m barely awake and not prepared for these kind of deep questions. I just want a drink of water. I kind of don’t want to know what’s loud and threatening in the bathroom at midnight. I don’t know what you plan to do with the sproinging Kitana to subdue the invader.image

I decide I’m not equipped to face the upstairs bathroom and whatever has taken up residence and turn to forage downstairs for a drink. It might or might not be water at this point, it’s too weird upstairs.

But, my son keeps laughing quietly as he stalks the bathroom and I see his hand-crafted distance weapon. But, in the other hand, I see a cup. “It’s a bug.” He whispers.

He’s planned ahead. One hand defends himself from the creepy, loud bug; the other hand is for mercy. He intends to catch and release the bug, whatever it is, into the night.image

Aren’t you glad you sent me to college? We both laugh in whispers. I take the cup and he covers me, leaning into the doorway above me. I trap the spooky moth and we release it into the moonlight.

One hand for protection, the other for kindness. Aren’t I glad? Yes, yes I am. Of course.