All posts filed under: Relationships

The Beach on Christmas. For Dad.

My father loved to the go the beach on Christmas Day.  When I lived in Kansas City, he would call on Christmas and tease me that he had just returned from the beach, and then he would ask me how the weather was in Kansas City?  He always rubbed it in, which I didn’t mind, because I loved Southern California just as much as he did.

Saturday Morning.

Slept. Woke. Checked time on cell phone. 6 AM. Pushed away dog’s face licks. Snuggled into covers. Pushed away dog nibbles. Got out of bed. Peed. Put on coat. Attached leash to dog’s collar. Walked around buildings. Dog peed. Startled by walker. Dog barked. Apologized. Returned home. Removed leash. Crawled back in bed. Slept with dog 2 more hours. Woke up. Prepared pot of coffee. Showered. Redressed in PJs. Dog nibbled on ankles. Changed clothes. Attached leash. Walked around buildings. Dog peed. Avoided man walking dogs. Gave treats. Walked more. Dog peed. Returned home. Poured cup of coffee. Picked up laptop. Sat on porch. Typed. Sipped coffee. 9 AM, called mom. Inquired about night. Received report of good night’s sleep. Mom responded to dad in another room. Dad needed attending. “Can I call you back in a few minutes?” “Yes, of course.” Mom called back 5 minutes later. Chatted about nurses. Planned my trip to farmers market. Listed items needed: yellow beans, summer squash, strawberries. Ended call. Texted list of items to phone. Sipped coffee. …

I don’t understand …

I don’t understand why some dogs bark at all other dogs. I don’t understand how anyone would think Donald Trump should be the actual president. I don’t understand why it’s harder to lose weight than it is to lose your mind. I don’t understand whether it’s better to have high expectations or low. I don’t understand why people judge one another so harshly. I don’t understand why it’s so hard to recognize our shared humanity.  

Thoughts about being 12

[NOTE: I found this tonight in my drafts folder from 2011. I wrote it when my youngest son was 12.] I headed over to the park to make an appearance at my son’s sixth grade picnic. It’s a beautiful day, the sun is shining the wind is blowing. There is a certain perfection to days like these, when it’s just so sweet and easy. No hurries today. I laid under the covers late this morning. The house was quiet. The breeze was blowing outside. I could only hear weekday sounds — the birds and the breeze. No lawnmowers or gas trimmers. No cars driving down the street. It was a sleepy, quiet late Thursday morning. Even the dog was sleepy, wondering what I was doing here. I would have thought he’d be more excited to have company, but instead he gave me a look of sleepy irritation and ambivalence. Yesterday we were milling around in the storm shelter for an hour and a half during the tornado warning, trying to reach our children on their cell phones, trying to hear what the weatherman was …

Me

Flats of various colors and designs Tank tops with cardigans Curly hair Long legs Coffee – no sugar, no sweetener, no flavoring Sunsets Fresh flowers Poetry Classical music The Jam, English Beat, Violent Femmes Smiling Sunshine Dogs Walks Journals Lists Baking Home cooking A good cry Therapy Flight Friends Meditation Introspection Writing Judgment Quiet Asthma inhaler Two sizes too big Thoughtfulness Strength Cold beer Ginger ale Busy Caring Courage Critical eye Unattached Blue Being loved

My Disappearance

Over the course of the last two years, my life has been in flux. I moved 1600 miles away from my home, my oldest son and my best friend.  I left a 25-year marriage.  I gave up a 10-year career.  I have ceased to be a presence in a number of people’s lives, and they have ceased to be a presence in mine. To some who love me, or used to love me, some friends, some relatives, quite a few colleagues and coworkers, and a handful of neighbors, in a way, I have disappeared. I no longer live next door. I no longer work with you. I no longer see you in the coffee shop each morning. You no longer read my words. You no longer stop in my office on your way down the hall. You no longer consider me your sister-in-law or your wife. We are no longer Facebook friends. I am no longer your lunch buddy or your team member. You no longer wave hello. You don’t see me at church. You don’t see me walking my …

Realizations Upon Separation

30 days after move-out day, these are the lessons I have learned: Levelness is not as necessary as I was led to believe. Over the course of the last 30 days, I have succeeded in hanging things from the wall without a level. They are relatively straight. Note:  Listing will be expanded periodically, as new insights are revealed.

Seek Not for Love

Your task is not to seek for love, but merely to seek and find all the barriers within yourself that you have built against it.–A Course in Miracles My task is not to seek for love, but merely to seek and find all the barriers within myself that I have built against it. My task is not to seek for creativity, but merely to seek and find all the barriers within myself that I have built against it. My task is not to seek for health, but merely to seek and find all the barriers within myself that I have built against it. My task is not to seek for friendship, but merely to seek and find all the barriers within myself that I have built against it. My task is not to seek for fortune, but merely to seek and find all the barriers within myself that I have built against it. My task is not to seek for energy, but merely to seek and find all the barriers within myself that I have …

Today I’ll defer to the dog

  My inner critic has run amuck, haranguing me with disapproval. I am resisting its critique of my worthiness and capabilities. Then I remember, don’t resist. What you resist persists. Observe without attachment. Observe without attachment. But I have attached and internalized its assessment of me. I’ve got to shake this mood. Take a walk. I grab the leash. The dog is so happy he knocks himself over with his exuberant tail wagging. We take off down the street–a mile and a half round the corner, up the hill and back. The sun is shining. The weather is perfect. We both feel good and happy and fulfilled. I am back to work. He naps on the floor beside me. For the rest of the day, I’ll defer to the dog’s judgment of my worthiness. He thinks I’m pretty spiffy. What else do I need? Weekly Writing Challenge: Lunch Post