that one memory

Does anyone else have that one memory… that one moment that is the epitome of being “carefree?”   I have it.  When I’m stressed, scared, anxious, needing an escape… I go to it.  I long for it.  My mind flashes back to it without warning and without a second thought.

I’m 18.  My friend Rachel comes to pick me up in her burgundy car.  It is messy and smells like incense.  There are half empty water bottles, she has attempted to clean the windshield with vinegar and newspaper.   There are lighters, old papers, handmade sewn creations, etc.  She lights the incense and has a mixed CD playing.  Phish, String cheese incident,  Jimi Hendrix, etc.  We drive out of town with no destination.  The windows are down, the weather is perfect.  My hair is in my face and I don’t care.  Nothing really matters.  We smoke cigarettes and we just drive.  We are driving nowhere and that is okay.

This memory is vivid because it is one of the few times in my life that I’ve felt carefree.  I got lost in the music, the freedom of having no destination, the moment.  I was 18.  Life was very simple.

Sometimes, I long for simplicity in a very chaotic world.

A poem about Grace Elaine

Tonight I’ve been talking with my good friend Heather.  I am so stressed out and it is so good to get things off my chest.  Heather is great because you can talk about something silly like the hatchimal craze…. or something serious like our children’s health issues. Tonight, we talked about how much we would love to talk to our grandmothers just one more time.  There is something so wonderful about grandparents.  They have lived full lives and have this wisdom that is so far beyond our own understanding.  I often look to my only living grandfather for advice and wisdom.  When talking with Heather tonight I remembered that in college I wrote several poems about my grandmother.  She was such a strong, beautiful woman.  I am so thankful that I had 13 years to know her and love her.  I would like to share one of the poems here because I feel that it captures who she was accurately.  As I am going through so much as a mother now… I would love to just be able to talk about everything with her.  After she passed in 1998 she visited me in my dreams.  She sat on the edge of my bed and she told me that she was okay.  I found such peace in this– and am thankful that she loved me so much.  I named my daughter after her and know that Claire has inherited some of her salty attitude. ( I say this lovingly, as her salty attitude was my favorite thing about her).  Anyway, here is the poem I wrote for her nearly 10 years ago.

11268973_10102538244789113_6074877824603947545_n

War Veteran’s Wife

She spent most days behind that old apron
making our meals and providing for us.
Her weathered fingers wrinkled like raisins,
gripping the spoon and praying for solace.
Day after day in a house of discord,
protecting us from our drunken father
with her bones as shields but never a sword.
Her tired body we would never bother.
She grew old inside of that same old house.
Rocking back and forth in her chair thinking
about her life as a war veteran’s spouse,
who wasn’t enough to stop his drinking
before he died inside his “Sunday best.”
Leaving behind for her a day of rest.

 

 

Blessing of the hands

holding-hands-1526898-1279x817

These are the hands of your best friend, young and strong and full of love for you, that are holding yours on your wedding day, as you promise to love each other today, tomorrow and forever. 
These are the hands that will work alongside yours, as together you build your future.  These are the hands that will passionately love you and cherish you through the years, and with the slightest touch, will comfort you like no other. 
These are the hands that will hold you when fear or grief fills your mind. 
These are the hands that will countless times, wipe the tears from your eyes; tears of sorrow, and tears of joy. 
These are the hands that will tenderly hold your children. 
These are the hands that will help you to hold your family as one. 
These are the hands that will give you strength when you need it. 
And lastly, these are the hands that even when wrinkled and aged, will still be reaching for yours, still giving you the same unspoken tenderness with just a simple touch. 

The Rev. Daniel L. Harris

My friend sent me this poem tonight because she wants it to be read in her wedding.  It is so beautiful and really spoke to me.  Specifically the line “These are the hands that will hold you when fear or grief fills your mind.”

I am so blessed to have a husband that wipes the tears from my eyes and helps me wipe the fears from my mind.  I am blessed to have friends that listen to my worries and help me get through the panic.  I have all of these helping hands in my life and I feel tremendously blessed.  I have a wonderful support system and I am forever grateful.