30.

And just like that, I celebrate 30 years. What an amazing adventure it's been so far. I think of everything I've done so far and am amazed. I think of everything that the future holds for me and I welcome it with my all.
I'm taking some time to reflect and to dream. Nothing is too big or too small to matter. I'm writing words that I carry in my heart. I'm excited and afraid all the same.
Raise a glass today and let's cheer to everything because every day should have in it a reason to celebrate.

Mornings like this one.

The alarm went off. The dog lazily peered up from the foot of the bed, her droopy eyes said it all. But alas, it was time. I stretched through to my toes and felt rested, ready to start. The usual routine unfolded - shower, dry, dress. I opened the children's room door and peeked in.
They lay in a peaceful slumber. The very thought of waking them made me want to just snuggle in instead. I readied their clothes then picked up the ones from the night before that didn't quite make it into the basket. I stopped as I heard the little one sigh in her sleep and thought me too. Ever so softly I called to them and to my surprise they began to stir. He stretched through to his toes while I stood smiling remembering how I had just done the very same. She buried deeper into her pillow and I nodded knowing that was on my mind as well.
A short while later we were brushing teeth, washing faces, combing hair and the other mundane tasks that are whisked into mornings. It looked like business as usual but it felt different.
There was an inexpicable magic this morning. Perhaps it was something in the way we woke (gently, calmly) or the softness of our steps (rather than the fast-paced stomps life so often fills up with) or the tone I made a concious effort to set. Maybe it was the tenderness that I paused to notice or that softness that children naturally have that caught me today.
I stopped and noticed the difference. I inhaled the moment then went about the day.

Have a seat.

Join me today, right here in this cozy corner of mine. Choose a traditional teacup from my collection. There are ones painted with yellow lace roses, ones kissed with pink buds almost in bloom and still more that have gold trim around the edges. Be careful as there are a few that are chipped yet I can't bring myself to letting them go just yet. Maybe some day just not right now. Let me warm your cup with a spot of my melancholy tea blend as I reminisce. Please excuse my tears when they fall.
Quite some time ago, today was a frigid day such that it seem the world itself was trying to freeze time. I was jolted awake from an unsettled sleep in the dead of night by a pain so intense I gasped. I begged for it all to be a nightmare. I pleaded with the universe to let me be wrong. I called a friend in desperation. She knew.
The day whirled around in a blur of beeps, buzzes, bracelets, charts and macabre images that have scarred me. Routine phrases were used by those who knew what they were defined as though many were foreign to my untainted ears. I didn't understand. I felt alone and scared and broken.
On this day, all those years ago, I felt a piece of me change. I didn't know then what I know now but I knew I would never be the same.
I know now that's it's ok...that I'm ok.

On Hallow's Eve, my light shone bright.

It was a dark night. The air was crisp with a creepy feeling. Goblins, ghouls, zombies and the odd zebra were on the prowl. Mixed in was Rookie, the super dog, and Grandpa (just in case). All leashed up and away we went, an odd bunch for sure.
These two not-quite-monsters were troopers and Rookie was great. Grandpa took it all in with a sparkle in his eye that sent me back 20 years to when I was one of those almost-monsters dashing about. I only hope I was as gentle to my sister as my son was to his. Trick or treat mixed with a healthy dose of please and thank yous brought in a couple bags full of loot.
But see, I'm not big on the whole Halloween bit. I dodge horror movies like the plague and have been known to jump at the site of my shadow. My overactive imagination affords me a very generous dose of terror thankyouverymuch. So, at the first chance, I dodged the boo.
Near the end of our group adventure, I split away with my dogphew. He needed some good ground pounding. We walked fast. I can concoct this story or that about why but the truth is, I was nervous. My shadow was, after all, following us. My arms pumped the air with determination, my legs fought fierce and my knee screamed. While it has healed from the surgery I had 10 months ago, I'm not sure it has actually recovered. I pushed on, knowing the experience would be good for both the dog and my mind. As we rounded the bend on the home stretch, we picked up the pace. It was a run home.
Up the front steps and inside, he dashed for his dish, tongue hanging and slopping up water like it was going out of style. I gasped and heaved falling just shy of sharing with him. My legs burned. They felt raw. I paced slow, scared to sit thinking that perhaps stopping would make it worse. Before too long, the burn subsided and the jello set in. Mush was all that was left in my legs.
Much later that night I was laying in bed. As I slowly unwound from all the day offered, I kept coming back to the feeling after my walk/run. My head was clear, my heart was calm. The light bulb sparked and illuminated. I might have found another trick to tuck away in my life toolbox. I might be beginning to understand what the appeal is to running.

A labour of love.

I tossed restlessly through each pain still in denial of what was becoming much too obvious. By 4AM I'd had enough and done what any person does at that hour; I began washing, drying and ironing laundry. The slight flaw in my productivity plan was that the washer/dryer are in our basement, a monstrous 12 steps down and back up. I made it work or at least as best a bull in a china shop might. Gravity does funny things to people.

By 7AM the denial had worn off and I was prepared to admit that I was, in fact, in labour. I called my friend who had just gotten to work. She took over from the moon and talked me through contractions all the while timing and gauging the severity. By 8, I was waking Hubby.

He ran out to get the car ready only to discover a peregrine falcon diving after its prey in our yard. A bizarre but intriguing experience as I watched from the kitchen window. We were ready to go. Overnight bag loaded, snacks , camera ...Hold the train! The memory card. I hadn't emptied the card. I had visions of clicking away at the shutter only to get the dreaded card full message and there was no way and on and on I ramble out excuses between contractions. I did a not-so-quick file transfer and we were off.

At the hospital, things started off slow. They confirmed what we already knew and then we waited. I was ok though the pain was gaining in intensity. At some unmarked moment everything changed. My friend arrived. My sister came in. There was a flurry of people in and out, checking, watching, silently waiting. I screamed, begging for relief. The nurses were tucked over in a corner negotiating who would be the unfortunate one to break it to me the only relief was delivery. Meds would not make it in time. I screamed. No one listened. I screamed with everything I had. They still didn't hear.
10 more minutes of body twisting, pretzel shapes, legs bent to my ears, ice-cold cloths and (you guessed it) more carnal screaming and it was over. Silence hung in the air. The doctor didn't even know anything more than a baby had been born.
The nurse who had taken the baby heard my disoriented question and responded with, "Congratulations, it's a girl!" and then the baby cried. I cried and they laid her in my arms. The newness, the wonder, the miracle. My daughter.
Happy Birthday, Baby-of-Mine.

Remember 2008?

You don't? Really?...C'mon, really?
I happen to. Follow me on this one.
Today, August 17, was a Sunday. Back then, last night was a Saturday evening and we had been to a wedding celebration. We called it a night early. I was tired, heavy and my feet were swollen. Hubby was supportive. As best he could, he kinda understood.
I woke late, lethargically rolled out of bed and shuffled around. I was heavy and my mood could have been compared to a blend between Eeyore and habanero peppers. One moment I was moping. The next, I was spitting something saucy at any given undeserving recipient.
The sun was up bright, hot and dancing high in the sky. He shone for me that day. He smiled knowing it would be soon and trying to encourage me. He must've have know it was the moon who would entice me. The moon would help me breathe. The moon would see me through. But on that Sunday, as afternoon rolled around, that sun called to me. I did what Eeyore-on-Habaneros would do. I hauled out the mower and got to cutting the grass. A task that any other time would seem simple took everything out of me that day. After I'd finished, I rested. But that sun knew. In the dying light of the evening, he winked at me as brilliant pinks and purples, vibrant oranges and reds kissed the horizon finally giving way to the darkness of night.
The moon made her arrival. She perched high in the sky and shone bright.
I laid down about midnight feeling defeated and disappointed. Another day gone. I don't remember falling asleep.
Then it happened. Just as the sun had promised, at a quarter to one in the morning, I was startled awake. Even the dog was alarmed by the jolt.
The moonlight filtered in through the blinds and encouraged me, "Breathe."

Why do you think I remember so many moments of today? Check back tomorrow when I'll tell you.

Remembering today.

Today I want to remember the way you woke.
The way you rolled over and nestled your pretty face into the space between the pillows hoping for just another moment of sleep. The sun sending susurrations along the rays streaming in through the long drapes trying to coax you up. Even the dog wanted to stay stretched out upon her marshmallow pillow of comfort.
You fluttered your bold brown eyes open in a way much like a butterfly does its wings having just emerged from a cocoon. They glittered with the excitement that only childhood innocence can. You were having none of the potty business that is part of the mundane tasks of morning. Rather than argue, I took it in stride. Sometimes that’s ok, too. I helped you slip on your faded blue top with the embroidered white heart and lemon yellow capri pants. Your teensy toes wiggled in excitement knowing that your pink flower sandals were next.
It was just a moment, same as any other. It was just another morning filled with wishes and dreams for a full day. It was just the same ordinary way we move but today, I want to remember.

The End That Prompted the Beginning.

She called for the fifth time in three days filled with trepidation. His avoidance of her calls made the reality of what was to come undeniable.

"Hello?" Her heart sank. His mother answered.

"Hi. I was hoping to talk to..." She tried to sound courteous and cheerful.

His mother replied with a new excuse of why he couldn't take the call. She couldn't mask her disappointment but offered a meek phrase of appreciation. His mother provided a curt goodbye and quick hang up. She, however, lingered on the line finally ready to admit the inevitable and succumb to the tears she was barely keeping at bay.

That's when she heard it - the sigh.

He cleared his throat.

She held her breathe.

"Hi. Let me explain," he began.

The conversation confirmed her suspicions. What was done was done. She sat silently nodding at each line he spewed wondering which he would offer up next. His words all blurred together and she was dizzied by the white noise of his voice.

Overwhelmed with this official truth, she gently whispered, "Thank you and goodbye," then returned the corded phone to its cradle.

Which way is...

Orienteering by definition is a sport in which contestants race on foot over a course consisting of checkpoints found with the aid of a map and a compass (found here).

It was my favorite part of overnight camping in elementary school. There was something about the wilderness and the quest that excited me. Finding the yellow circle with the various shapes at each location carried such a feeling of accomplishment. Learning to read a compass or better still learning to tell direction by were the sun was in the sky is a life skill that too often we forget to learn now.

One of my favorite cabin adventures was to trek down grown-over pathways to see where they led. Although slightly more modernized now, I still hop on the quad and boot around this twist and that turn, into those pits, through that puddle to see what's on the other side. More than once or twice I have got myself into messes.

One experience was a random excursion down the undeveloped road to the lake on foot. I never could understand why there was no development there. Three quarters of the way down the path, I knew. The ground dropped. Not just little dips and bumps but straight down, land shifted and broke type of falls. Once upon a time these were challenges too juicy to run from. So, laughing in the face of danger and whatever odd creatures could be (including snakes which I am none too fond of), I tripped and scrambled and fought my way down. A few scratches and a bruise or two were nothing compared to the achievement.

When I finally made it through the lost land, I arrived at the lake with soft sand and the symphony only true nature can offer. Standing listening as the lake lapped at the shoreline, seeing the trees laid horizontally in the water but who's roots, though exposed, refused to let go of the pieces of land it grew from, watching the reeds dance in the gentle breeze that whispered 'grow grow!'. Images stored in my memory box of life.

I took off my shoes and meandered along in the ankle deep water knowing that the path home was just a bit over from where I'd arrived. Everything looked different, weathered but untouched by human hand. The calm serenity was a testament to how small we each are and yet, in the same breathe, how big.

Soon, the beaten path revealed itself and home I went. Not even the poison ivy I woke the next day covered in could mar the memory and adventure.