Just Write {190}

June 2, 2015

Twas the night before the Last Day Of School and all through the house not a creature was stirring, except for maybe mommy, all tight shoulders and frown lines, deciding what to do.

No, no. Not with the summertime hours, boredom, long stretched out days…

No rather, mommy was trying to find a way to deal with the new discovery of mold in the home.

Why yes, “mommy” is me…but you knew that.

I’ve been moving furniture from the basement to the upstairs on the other side of the house, with help, to try to bring the kiddos up out of the mold. That is the first thing to do when you discover mold. Because you can’t just run out the door screaming with all of your belongings behind you, on a string, while carrying the kids on your tight shoulders, even if you want to.

So today the rooms are part-moved, because it all had to wait until after work so it could not be finished. And I had talked to one of my fellow sober people and she reminded me not to pretend I can do it all in one day and hurt myself and make myself worse. I had to listen, because most sober people know wise things and live by them and I try to copy them.

So now it is time for early morning light, and I’m sitting here with you, the windows are open (it is a beautiful day but I’m pretty sure I would have the windows open no matter what because MOLD).

Normally I close the window in the bedroom at night because even if I love birds, they are so mouthy in the morning. Or beak-y. They start at 4:30 or so and they just don’t stop singing  and singing to each other. There must be so much planning to do, or something. Today it didn’t bother me, and I let the birds keep me company as I dozed in and out, felt the soft breeze through the window.

I thought about how many times I (and then we) have moved in my adulthood. In my twenties, I moved once a year, the entire decade. My parents loved helping all those times. There was always something. I was a caregiver at these quaint little brick apartments in the Grand Ave are of St Paul for a while, and when my landlord would say, Can you move to a different building, that one needs a caretaker now? I would say yes. There were less things then, of course. But I think I also liked change, almost too much. I was always fighting the creeping boredom, routine, ordinary. And I still want a full life of adventure in the sense of waking up in the morning and watching what the day will bring, who will I meet at just the right time, who can I serve? That sort of thing.

Really, if you’re paying attention, every single day is quite a ride, mold or no mold.

I just don’t want to force Big Changes anymore, just to feel something.

My body, mind, and heart need a place to land and stay. A mold-free place with no more space than what we need. What we need is not much.

Just each other, of course, and the willingness to hear the birds sing, no matter how early it is.

This is the 190th installment of Just Write, an exercise in free writing your ordinary and extraordinary moments. {New here? Please see the details.} I would love to read your freely written words so join me and link up below. You can add the url of your post at any time. Just be sure it’s a link to your Just Write post, not to your main page. (Then link back to this post in your Just Write post so people know where to go if they’d like to join in.) (Any links not following those two guidelines will be deleted.)

Also. Please take a moment to visit someone else who has linked up! It’s a really good way to meet new writers and get inspired by the meaning behind their moments. Word?

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I have no idea what I’m doing.

We don’t get to know.

No matter the Sure Things,
even those have

shaky parts
of mystery
and that is the answer:

Trust the path
with its shards of glass
keep going

forgive yourself.

Maybe 40 is

just a moment
to see you can trust yourself
and your unknowns

even when you cannot,

to know
and
not know
and
let it be.

And maybe 40 is
time to forgive yourself for
every big and little thing
that led to pretending
or mistakes
or ego
or having to completely start over
again.

Again.

We were just kids, trying to figure it out.

Remember the glaring confusion
in that little you
looking up and around with your
wonder eyes.

Remember how confusing
the ways of the world
and adults seemed to be.

You were right.

You knew
there is very little sense here.

There is a deafening strife
the child easily senses
but can’t comprehend
for the weight of it all.

So we stop.

Denial. Numbing. Addiction. Pride. Self-righteousness. Fear.

Maybe 40 is when surrender comes,
not just an idea
but an action.

Such a startling surprise

That’s me.

I have lived and lived and lived some more.
I cannot say,
But I feel like a kid,
because that’s a lie.

I feel every sorrow and happiness
deep in my core
and they are each
in turns
pulling at these eyelids,
my sore shoulders,

the aching back.

Right alongside me, my body is moving ahead;
we are arriving

and leaving behind.

Maybe 40

is a weariness, yes
and it is a wisdom
maybe
that comes with experience,
and grace
but mostly from the stories
of others.

It is thicker than
the languages we’ve been given,
the kind we can hear.

We speak it to each other
as vessels in moments
connected
fleeting
gone.

It is the resolve
in her eyes,
the way his shoulders slump
just a little this way,
the tilt of his head
when listening.

It is all the ways
we are limping along

getting weaker
while growing
more muscle.

We feel it
between the lines
in this middle
where we give each other
breath
with what we know
now

Here where
we let go
of expecting so much
we don’t need
and giving in to gratitude
for what we thought
we did not want.

People say
She’s an old soul,
and maybe 40
is when it’s finally true.

I know who she is,

part obvious

part mystery,

So maybe 40 is a time to stop
the shudder and the shame,
the denial,
to embrace
it all
and tell the story
with my bleeding feet
on the right path
no matter how many times
it feels wrong.

(I was hidden away at a cabin for my 40th birthday. When you hide away for your 40th you end up thinking about your 40th, but it ain’t half bad.)

lilypads

This is the 189th installment of Just Write, an exercise in free writing your ordinary and extraordinary moments. {New here? Please see the details.} I would love to read your freely written words so join me and link up below. You can add the url of your post at any time. Just be sure it’s a link to your Just Write post, not to your main page. (Then link back to this post in your Just Write post so people know where to go if they’d like to join in.) (Any links not following those two guidelines will be deleted.)

Also. Please take a moment to visit someone else who has linked up! It’s a really good way to meet new writers and get inspired by the meaning behind their moments. Word?

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Brady Toops and The Bachelorette

May 20, 2015

photo via google images via bradytoops.com I posted a link to a short article about Brady Toops being on The Bachelorette​ on Facebook a couple of days ago. What I said in that post was, “I used to take care of him in the church nursery. That is all.” My FB friends and I were all humored by that. It’s funny. In that way that makes you feel really really old… But I want to tell you about some other things that have nothing (and then maybe everything) to do with Brady being on The Bachelorette. I want to tell you about community, courage and support. The people I’ve talked to around this place where Brady grew up are excited about his career in music, his talent, and they support him. You might expect criticism from way up here–about Brady’s choice to do a reality TV show–but that hasn’t seemed to be the case. I’m sure some locals are judging this […]

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Just Write {188}

May 19, 2015

I have at least one new idea every day, a creative flow of light bulbs dancing behind my eyes. Some are fleeting thoughts and some stick around like breath. I have no good way of knowing for certain which ideas are the best to pursue, or how to find the time to pursue them. Life has not allowed for pursuing anything other than the time to change a load of laundry, and jumping in the good ol’ minivan for the next thing, mostly medical things, and we keep going past the time for ideas. I have learned to be okay with this. The time will come. It will. On this particular morning, the house is buzzing with the sound of the furnace, sadly, in May. It got cold last night. I fought the good fight, to keep the furnace off and I lost. That actually meant I won because I stopped shivering. Our guinea pig, […]

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