Simple pleasures on Mother's Day~

Today's Mother's Day was a far cry from the days when my three kids were little, the days breakfast in bed was served on a tippy tray by beaming children who wiggled beside me and watched me swallow every bite.

No five dollar Hallmark can beat the homemade cards scrawled in crayon, the marigold sprouting in a paper cup, the sticky kisses. I loved those days.

But they were also the days when I wondered who perpetrated this Mother's Day hoax on the women of America. It was mother's day all right. Not only did the routine chores continue-- changing diapers, nursing the baby, doing dishes, picking up the house fall to me-- but there was the added job of hosting the Mother's Day celebration for my mother, my brother and family, and my own family. Nice to get together in the name of motherhood, but what a farce to call it Mother's Day. No rest for the weary mother.

At work the day after one Mother's Day, a new mother was still in a state of shock over the reality of the day vs her expectations. Her visions of being treated like royalty had been erased with the morning sun as she made coffee and fed the baby while eating cold cereal. By the end of the day she was in tears, and was still not speaking to her husband the next day. I don't know if her gift-- an azalea bush-- lived until next Mother's Day.

I thought she was a bit of a princess, but I understood. We all did.

Kids grow up. Change is good. Today was beautiful. A perfect Mother's Day.

I left my husband turning over the garden soil, and drove forty minutes east to walk along Nantasket Beach. Camera over my shoulder, sandals in hand, I shuffled through shallow shoreline water that felt warmer than the brisk breeze. I pocketed five striped rocks for my collection. I took a picture of an older couple at their request. I stood in a tide pool watching a seagull eat something dead-- another gull, it looked like. I watched young and old ride the carousel-- the only reminder that Paragon Park once stood on that site before it was torn down for the condos. I walked for nearly two hours, down the beach and back. Then I stopped for warm carrot and ginger soup, and got a cafe au lait for the ride home.

My husband was still working in the yard when I returned, as happy and relaxed as I was.

Now I sit with a cup of Chai tea heated in the copper-bottom whistler, steeping in a China cup-- gifts from my daughter-- along with the York Peppermint Patty I'm savoring. She remembered I used to love those. I still do. In a minute I'll get into bed and curl up with the book my son gave me. Simple pleasures that make this day special.

For Alice~ She's home!!!!!!!

What lies behind us and what lies before us are tiny matters compared to what lies within us. ~Ralph Waldo Emerson Sometimes it's all about knowing that loved ones and friends stand behind you, knowing that support is there on the down days, the worry days, the days when you feel off-center, out of sync, bedraggled emotionally, and in pain, but knowing all the while that you're not alone. You're not alone... Alice is an online friend--she lives in Hawaii-- who belongs to the writer's workshop that I do. We've only "met" online, but those who have online friendships know that they can be just as strong as those in-person relationships. Alice was hit by a car while walking, and is in the rehab phase of things. She's working to regain mobility after a broken pelvis, a broken arm, and a broken nose. It's scary to realize how, in the blink of an eye, life can lurch and our plans for a time are displaced by survival and healing. We&#

This retirement thing~

This retirement thing . . . it seems like it should be so easy, so effortless, so thrilling, to stop the daily grind. It is thrilling; at least I think it will be come September when I'm not following the school buses to work. But it's not easy. I had a plan book on my desk for 35 years, one I filled in weekly, scheduling new lessons at 45-minute intervals, meetings, parent conferences, and field trips. I knew what needed to be done and when. I got up at the same time everyday (5:45 a.m.), ate lunch at the same time (12:06 p.m.) and watched the kids pack their bags for home everyday at 2:15 p.m. I'm not sorry to give up that regimentation. But three weeks into the summer, I find myself making lists of things I need to do, and there is so much to do that I can't imagine how I managed while I was working eight hours on top of it all. There are the household chores, gardening, exercise (aren't retirees supposed to get fitter?), freelance writing, book reviewing, readin

Lesson from a Weed~

If dandelions could talk, here’s what I think they might say: " Bloom where you’re planted, sink your roots deep. Smile in the sun, soak up the rain, and let the wind take you to new places." Dandelions are an early spring food for bees. They are often the first flower a young child picks for his mother and they provide a sweet moment for a mother to teach her child to make a wish and blow away the seeds. They speckle landscapes with lemon-colored glory. Common, and often disliked by those in favor of perfect lawns, we trample over them with hardly a thought. All this crossed my mind as I stood in this field of dandelions, most having gone to seed. I had an hour to myself at a retreat at a beautiful family farm on this day of unexpected sunshine and warmth. I was looking for a moment of stillness. I’d watched two swans, visited the alpacas, chatted with the chickens, tried to coax a kitty closer...

~Upstream and Down~

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