night carries on

tis three a.m. and me again, yet wandering to your door
the kettle's on to sing the song that lets me sleep once more.
my mind all wired and tangled up in dreams that cannot be
my pen and cup the tincture sure for whate'er be aillin me.

moonlight the witness, the lonely one, who seeks a living face
to share the quiet, the contemplation, that fills this darkened place
the bed, she calls and seeks my warmth, yet cannot meet my need
an empty mind, a peaceful soul that wanders not, nor bleeds.

thoughts run round like scattered men, hell bent on self destruction
they cannot stand, call hither and flee, promising false seduction
my heart cries out, the loss, the gain, the feelings so full in the night
cannot be changed, nor given away, but hid by the morning's light

that kettle's song, it sings once more, the pen writ sure and true
my soul poured out, like naked at birth, to share who I am with you.
the cup sits empty, the paper full, mine eyes sweet rest implore
I slip away, the moon speaks not, the night carries on once more

~J. Kelly

moving.....

Fold, tape, wrap, nestle, fold, tape, label, repeat. Slice, unfold, unwrap, find the right spot, repeat.

Almond oil for cuticles dried out by packing paper and boxes. Epsom salts for sore muscles and feet. Wine to chill me out so I don't go totally OCD on my family.

Preset postcard in the computer to use for the once a year moving. (don't buy too many stamps since they keep changing price.)

Good Friends over to break in the new house by breaking bread together.

~~~~~~~~

We are moved in. The other house is having the last load moved as I type. Now for unpacking these boxes and making it all fit into yet another house. Lance looks at it and wonders that we even got it into this house, let alone can make it organized and functional. Trust me baby, it will all fit. Well... except the bench kitchen table set maybe.

What I love the most here is that the computer bay (yes Jason, I have geeked out totally when I have a computer BAY with 4 computers at it.) sits with a window only about 3 feet above ground and I can look out at the chipmunks in the sunshine and the trees gently swaying in the breeze.

~~~~~~~~

Moving is traumatic no matter how many times you do it. You may get better at the logistics, but the mental gymnastics of figuring out which cupboard to put your plates in and which drawer for silverware can be exhausting.

It can be exhilarating too. I love the smell of fresh paint, of hanging a painting and thinking, "this is the perfect spot for this one."

I dislike that my fingernails will break at a wrong breath for the next 6-8 weeks as they recover from the trauma of moving. I really absolutely hate that I have said (now at least 11 times) that I need a picture taken of the back of the tv/theater system to make it easier to reconnect all these wires right without spending half a day and a dozen curse words to do it.

I love falling into my bed, made up totally in my new room with all my stuff in place. That night is a good night and I sleep like the dead when I am moving and nesting.

It stinks to try to figure out how to give the best directions to the new place- or trying to remember which accounts I have switched over or not.

~~~~~~~

No matter what I do, I have begun to accept the fact that God has chosen for me to be a nomad. I do not like to move anymore. In fact I rather hate it the more I do it- no matter how good I may be at it. The older I get, the more I move, the less I like it. But it is what I do. It is who I am. Maybe I will start off conversations with new friends by warning them not to put me in their address book in ink......

It will come... sooner or later.

Today is a different day. That doesn't mean that things are different though. Yesterday a friend was laid to rest in Arlington National Cemetery.

Try as I might, I cannot cut short the sadness over the loss of his life in this world. I could not travel the 6 hours each way to honor his life there with others. I chose instead to take a break from moving and see Long Island beaches for the first time. I spent the hour of his interment watching my children jump into the ocean. And the waves crashed over and over again like a heart beat, reminding me of his now gone.

Am I a crappy human for wanting to forget? It was as though my heart said, if I cannot be there to truly grieve with others then I will simply not grieve.

Unfortunately, although I was able to defer pain, I could not cut it off. It remains. I woke this morning with a lump in my throat and a deep need to cry before I even knew why.
It's done. He is gone. There are no more ceremonies or memorials, there is not another step to finalize the formal end. Now comes the time when the others slowly but surely get on with thier lives as his family drowns in grief that has been deferred to a point as well. Now there is nothing else to keep them busy arranging or trying to 'get through'.

100 years ago we still wore black for a year. We showed our grief. A close friend or distant relative wore a black band to show the grief. The widow for a full year or more was clothed in all black with little relief of color.

Today we have no outer way to know of grieving kin. They walk by us in the grocery store and for all intensive purposes carry on thier daily grind as we stand in line behind them or scoot our cart around them in the deli department.

As a not so close friend, but more than mere acquaintance, where do I fit in? Some of us feel grief for others in the oddest of ways with no rhyme or reason. Maybe this is deferred pain over other losses in my life?

All I know is that today I grieve and no matter how enjoyable yesterday was, no matter how hard I tried to ignore it, I was aware all day of my friends who stood by a grave and shed tears at an armed salute, taps and a folded flag. I was so aware that I let out a deep breath- one I did not know I had been holding- around 1500. Surely it was done. Surely his lovely bride stood surrounded by others muttering condolences to her when she only wished to be alone on a mountain top screaming her lungs out over the ugliness of this.

There are no words I can utter to her that will ease her pain. There is no action I can perform to lessen her grief. I can only allow my tears to join hers as they fall to the earth where he is laid. My only hope is that I will be able to travel soon to honor his life where he rests and that I can live my life in a way that honors the love, laughter, friendship, and heartbeat that was his.

Pedro Mercado, my friend, may you rest in peace. May your lovely wife carry a little less pain each day. May your family remember you with honor and smiles. May your memory live on to remind us all that we should live with a HUGE smile that lights up a room, because in the end, while we may try to defer the pain, or even death, we cannot. It will come. Sooner or later.

gut check

Originally composed 3 Feb 2010

"It comes down to a simple gut check: You either love what you do or you don't. Period."

Hmm.

Let me just say, that many times we are unhappy because we have unrealistic expectations. Are you really unhappy with what you do, or are you unhappy with who you are and what you desire? Is your desire focused on the wrong thing? I honestly believe that we could all be happy in whatever we do if we look in ourselves and find out what really matters. Suddenly everything else becomes peripheral. If you are thinking money will make you happy when you are waiting tables, you are wrong. I look back on those poor table-waiting days and realize how happy I really was. If only I had focused on right here and now and not what-if's and maybe's I would have found peace much earlier in life.

The fact is, nothing in life is perfect. It all looks good until you live it- and then you notice the cracks and patchwork that no one else sees... and you can either accept and embrace those cracks as character or you can be miserable with them, thinking that those are greener pastures over that fence.

What we should do with our life is not about professions or occupations. It is about what is inside. What you do to earn money can bring you more happiness, true. But relying on that to bring happiness is false and will fail in time.

What brings happiness is an inner sense of self- of worth, of desire to live life and a realization that we must enjoy the messy eating of the juicy fruit of life- letting the juices run down our faces and arms and licking it up and savoring every moment. That is what we are supposed to do with our lives. Savor the moment and stop thinking anything other than right now will be better.

When a Tree Falls in Your Driveway....

Originally composed 5 March 2010.

Finally~! For over a month everyone but us seemed to be getting snow. The day they said all lower 48 states got snow on the same day- we had none. Upstate got it all. So when they called for a Nor'easter to hit us I was a little excited. I jumped the gun.

This snow was not the pretty light fluffy stuff that stinks for making forts and snowmen. No, it was heavy, wet and huge. Flakes larger than an oreo cookie! HUGE I say! Ever so lovely to watch them fall.

So they fell, and they fell and the world began to turn the softest of whites. The wires began to hang low ...and the trees began to bend...to the ground.

After only a couple of hours I was barely able to drive to the bus stop for the kids (which I never do but wanted to see if I could even get up the street) let alone the train station for Lance.
When I got into town, they had slush, some snow accumulation, but overall, no bending branches and little evidence of what we were seeing at the top of the mount. For their 2-3 we had 6!

That evening branches began falling... huge branches... some of them the major ones of a tree. They fell in the yard, on the neighbors car, in the road. But no whole trees... yet.

The next day Lance went out to shovel- with all that heavy snow still on the trees. That is when it happened. Nick and Graham were out there helping shovel and when he heard a sound he looked to see the tree moving. He yelled at them: "BOYS!! Come NOW!"
Thank God they listened.

I was in the living room, no window to out front. I heard a crash that made my heart skip a beat and I nearly flew up the stairs. Brenden was sitting by the picture window and I asked as I ran up the stairs what happened. With a shocked look on his face he said, "A tree just fell." I ran to the window and all I could see was a massive 80 ft Cottonwood tree taking up my ENTIRE driveway- right where my husband and children were supposed to be. My first thought was: My LORD... they are under that tree crushed in the snow!!!

I do not know what my voice sounded like, but I am sure it was frantic when I breathlessly demanded of Brenden, "Where is your father?" He then pointed to the corner of the window and said, "right there." I looked down and Lance stood with the twins gripped to him and a look of stunned relief on his face. I am sure an eternity passed as my mind attempted to accept that if I saw them standing there they were not under the tree. Then I started to breathe heavily- or maybe I was not breathing at all and had only just begun again.

I finally found my legs and raced down to them. As soon as my arms were around Lance I began sobbing hysterically- something I have never done like this in my life. Ever. Not even as an emotionally overwrought teenage girl. Apparently my crying was so loud that combined with the sound of the tree crashing, the neighbor ran out the door yelling back to his wife to be ready to call 911. He thought for sure something was wrong. I must have stood there sobbing and clinging to Lance forever. Finally I begged him to please just come inside until the snow is off the trees. "Please!!!!"

Finally he did. Then he told me that Graham had been the one who was basically under the tree when it began to fall. I still cannot feel anything when I write that or ponder it- I simply shut down emotionally at the close call my child just faced. Especially when I consider the death the day before of a man in Central Parks- killed by a falling branch.

I have never ever felt such fear, panic, dread, you name it....I felt it.

The tree remains in the yard. The landlord and friends with chainsaws came on Saturday to cut a swath to get us out but the remnants will be there for some time... and every time I see it I want to grab the 3 of them to me and never let go.

So when a tree falls in your driveway- your wife will make a realllllly loud sound- and you will never forget it.

Make a Memory

Originally written 28 May 2010.

Last night Bon Jovi sang this song... and I listened to the words as always, and felt sad as always. It was that sad joy that comes with saying goodbye but also devouring every moment left.

It reminds me of so many moments in my past when I wanted one more moment with someone- to hold onto and cherish forever if I couldn't have them.

I held onto those memories of my love through two icky relationships- never dreaming I would have him again in my arms.

Most people have that one "what if" person in their past... the 'what if we had tried, or tried harder' person. The person that makes them forget for a moment that they are happily married.
I have to say I almost cried when I realized I don't. I have him here, in my arms, kissing me sweetly goodnight as he wraps me into his arms. He wakes me with the same words, for over 17 years now- "Good Morning, I love you."

Those who know me well have heard me say Titanic was a beautiful movie that I will never watch again. It is because it saddens me. I have found that love and I do not want to lose it- and the fact is, life happens and we do. I know that time will come soon enough. Hopefully in another 50+ years, but it will come nonetheless and I will still not be prepared for the loss.

In the meantime, I am sadly happy for my life, for what I have that so many do not. Sometimes I want to feel guilty, sometimes I minimize my blessings to others. The fact is though, that I am blessed beyond measure to have the man of my dreams, a really good man, by my side and that there is no other "what if" person in the past anymore now that he is by my side.


(You want to) Make a Memory (by Jon Bon Jovi)

Hello again
It's you and me
Kinda always like it used to be
Sipping wine, killing time
Trying to solve lifes mysteries
How's your life.
It's been awhile
God it's good to see you smile
I see you reaching for your keys
Looking for a reason not to leave

If you don't know, if you should stay
If you don't say, whats on your mind
Baby just breathe
There's nowhere else tonight we should be
You want to make a memory

I dug up this old photograph
Look at all that hair we had
It's bittersweet to hear your laugh
Your phone was ringing I don't wanna ask

If you go now, I'll understand
If you stay, hey, I got a plan
You want to make a memory
You want to steal a piece of time
You can sing the melody to me
And I can write a couple lines
You want to make a memory

If you don't know, if you should stay
And you don't say, whats on your mind
Baby just breathe
There's nowhere else tonight we should be
You want to make a memory
You want to steal a piece of time
You can sing the melody to me
And I can write a couple lines
You want to make a memory
You want to make a memory

the recipe I cannot write down

What is it about cooking? There is deep satisfaction in that moment of completion of a dish, when you look at it before it is eaten and think, "I made this." You realize you did not waste your time, there is a final result and it is pleasing. Well, pleasing most of the time that is.
The moments of measuring, pouring, sifting, stirring, whipping, rolling, kneading... these are, for the home cook, a 'known' in the unknown of life. I KNOW that if my bowl for whipping egg whites is not clean they will not set up well. I know a cold pastry dough will yield a tender crust. I know a loaf insufficiently kneaded turns out like lead in your stomach.
In life though, we have no such knowledge. We have no guarantees that even if we do "it" right that we will turn out with success. We can walk through life keeping all our promises, doing all the right things, helping, loving and sharing and still not get an easy path- or even a fun one.
We can anticipate others and what they will do, but no guarantees of what will turn out to be true. We cannot even guarantee our own actions!
Even the best of hints, tips and self help books do not ensure a child well turned out. The proverbs were not 'quite' honest. Train up a child in the way he should go and he will more than likely not depart from it- but the fact is, they are their own person and they will do as they will do, regardless of our love, devotion, discipline, prayers and guidance.
But my food, that I can guarantee. I can KNOW that my tortillas will brown to gorgeous golden rings on the tips of tender bubbles. I can know that my scrambled eggs will turn out creamy, light and savory.
Quite simply I wish I could put it down in words and measurements to share with the ones I love. I wish I could share a tip or word of wisdom so your life will turn out as consistent as my tortillas. So while I may try, while I may wish, I cannot share this recipe with you- I cannot even write it down for myself.