Life in Image

Just
Two
Girls
In
Nightgowns.

Distraction

Sitting in a friends home, on the way to another friends home, on the way home. The w key doesn't work very well, my husband strums a different guitar, the children play upstairs. The espresso is delicious, but unknown. The air quality is comfortable, but unknown. Yet there is familiarity everywhere, because friendship is a form of coming home. I can just go home by closing my eyes now. I can breathe in and have a smell in my nostrils and a feeling in my heart and a family to cuddle with. I can think of yogurt and lamb and potatoes and I will come home. Every tradition is old and new. Every friendship feels heart warming and troubled and comfortable.

The song I hear is sweet and gentle and a companion. But I miss her and I will for always.

Slowing Down/Speeding Up: A List

-I love my husband, the 35 year-old, the old man and the small child versions of him. The way he scrunches his eyebrows and shoulders when he dances and the way he cozies up as only an 8 year-old can do. His knowledge of decadent culinary delights; the way he places them lightly in his mouth, tastes, considers, chews deliberately swallows and then immediately goes in for another bite.

-The dichotomy of relaxing; having a luxurious celebratory time opening gateways to the sad wells in each of us. Laughing and Crying in the same breath.

-Leaning back into old family history while creating new habits to enrich our futures together.

-Knowing that the same little being can make you exhausted/restless/frustrated at one moment and in the next she can kiss you with insurmountable joy and peace in your heart.

-I love the skirts and bare legs of summer just as much as I love the hats-scarves-mitten of winter.

-Feeling completely open and closed in the same breath.

-Having Peace and missing the Suffering.

-Awake & Sleepy.

Boxing Day!

This is a special day in our family; it's the day our Puppa was born! That's right Mr. Raf is turning 35 today and we are going to celebrate with a quiet sleep-in, friends, lattes and brewing in the morning, Thai for lunch and festivities continue sans child into Portland. Raf and I have booked a Premier Room in the Eastland Park Hotel and will having a drink at the top of the city tonight before heading to a multi course tasting menu at Miyake. Last time we had this Rafi's smile became larger and his dimples became deeper than I'd ever seen them before. After all of that we'll meet up with Southern Maine friends at a bar with 25 beers on draft, plus cask beers and a huge selection of bottled! Does that all not have Rafi written all over it?!?

So Happy Birthday Husband, we're oh so glad you were born!

Life In Image

Calming Snow Fall.
At Least Someone is Waiting for Christmas.
Pieces of The Becky Collection.
Dining Room Table, Post-Solstice Celebration.
Home Again.

Right Now.

-An old soothing mix of music still soothes.

-Solstice Reigns Supreme Today.

-We will hold hands together at dinner once more.

-The girl eats the yogurt, the man bustles about, I continue on.

-The husband has a broken thumb wrapped in a Christmas themed splint.

-I'm so glad I did all that food preservation months ago, will make gift giving worlds easier.

-I want to climb back into bed and stay there all day.

-Instead I'll knit and drive the 4.5 hours and talk a whole lot.

-Happy Holidays Friends!

-Here's a poem that landed in my inbox this morning:

Perhaps the World Ends Here
by Joy Harjo

The world begins at a kitchen table. No matter what, we must eat to live.

The gifts of earth are brought and prepared, set on the table. So it
has been since creation, and it will go on.

We chase chickens or dogs away from it. Babies teethe at the corners.
They scrape their knees under it.

It is here that children are given instructions on what it means to be
human. We make men at it, we make women.

At this table we gossip, recall enemies and the ghosts of lovers.

Our dreams drink coffee with us as they put their arms around our
children. They laugh with us at our poor falling-down selves and as we
put ourselves back together once again at the table.

This table has been a house in the rain, an umbrella in the sun.

Wars have begun and ended at this table. It is a place to hide in the
shadow of terror. A place to celebrate the terrible victory.

We have given birth on this table, and have prepared our parents for
burial here.

At this table we sing with joy, with sorrow. We pray of suffering and
remorse. We give thanks.

Perhaps the world will end at the kitchen table, while we are laughing
and crying, eating of the last sweet bite.

Continue On

It's daily the changes happening in my psyche. Each morning seems to be filled with question, what will today bring? What state will I be in today? Will I need to sleep or walk or talk or listen or knit today? Will I be functional or borderline today? How many baths and sultry female vocalists will I find comfort in? Who will I connect with? Who will I reach out to? Who will I avoid on the street? Who will I wish would reach out to me? How much guilt will I feel for having Cecilia watch Sesame Street? When will I feel inclined to do household chores again? What appointments and systems can I set into motion that will help me function? What can I do to take care of myself and my family? How can I take care of myself? Am I being indulgent? Is wearing a flannel nightgown until midday healthy? Is it normal to be totally and completely overwhelmed by household chores? Am I allowed to empty our house of possessions? When will I face our finances and pay some bills and put into action our budgeting system again? How many lattes will I drink? How many glasses of water will I drink? How may cookies will I eat?

These are all questions that I will find different answers to everyday. I will try and accept every single answer as my present moment. I will try not to judge myself, try not to allow others to judge me. I will try to be present. I will try to be honest. I will try to accept myself for who I am. I will try to accept my family for who they are. I will try to accept my friends for themselves and I will try to accept my community for itself.

I have strength, pride and courage as my allies today.