“Can I see you when I get out that way?”
She replied to his email – the one she shouldn’t have opened – with, “As friends.”
He didn’t like that answer. (Do guys ever like that answer?)
He waited to call, hoping she’d make the first move.
She didn’t. Continue reading →
She brings him a mug of coffee and says, “How’d you sleep?”
He says, “I slept great. How ’bout you?”
She says, “How can you sleep with that incessant dripping coming from the bathroom sink?”
He says, “That bugs you? I can hear it but I just roll over and go back to sleep.”
__________ Continue reading →
Take:
Mix children and dogs well together. Put them in the field, stirring constantly.
Pour this brook over pebbles; sprinkle with flowers.
Spread over all a deep blue sky and bake in hot sunshine.
When brown, remove and set away to cool in bathtub.
*Discovered in Rare Recipes and Budget Savers, a compilation of columns from The Wichita Eagle’s Home Town News.
Published in 1961.
Contributed by B. M. Pittenger.
The bouquet looks tired. She ought to have pitched it a couple days ago. She turns the vase to view the arrangement from a different angle and convinces herself that if she changed the water, she could enjoy it for another day or two.
He leaves hand prints in the dust on the cover of the box as he opens it. The box contains a package of lures, empty 22 shells, skateboard bearings, tech deck pieces and pictures of successful fishing trips. He keeps the packaging from the gifts. He’s yet to use the lures for fear he’ll lose one.
He closes the box and grabs for his cell. He’s hoping to make plans to shoot gophers or stop at the convenience store to pick up worms and go fishing or take a long bike ride. He leaves another message.
She devotes a drawer in her vanity to notes and cards. There’s one her dad have given her on her twelfth birthday. There’s a scribbled note from the boy that sat behind her in 8th grade English. She found a couple from college roommates.
The drawer is lined with the glitter sprinkled on the “fancier” cards. She remembers being a little girl excitedly opening a birthday card. The glitter would stick to her fingers as she read the card’s message. She believed receiving a fancy card was a sign of a true, lasting kind of love. Continue reading →
She could remember when seeing his name in her Inbox made her heart race with excitement. Now seeing his name in her Inbox made her palms sweat. She let the cursor hover over his name. She didn’t want to click to open his email.
She’d have to decide what to write back.
Did she even want to write back?
Being nice was her thing. She’d been supportive. She’d been there. She’d listened and responded.
Was there anything positive coming out of this relationship? If this was positive, why did it feel bad?
Were there healthier places to invest this energy?
Was she opening and answering emails because she was afraid there wouldn’t be another to come along.
She closed her laptop and stared out the window at the park.
__________
Her daughter came up and said, “Mom… are you interruptible? Can I ask you something?”
She looked into her daughter’s blue eyes and found the answer she’d been looking for:
She opened her laptop and deleted his email before opening it.
We may walk hand in hand for a time, or we may know each other only briefly.
We’ll share many of the same turns and detours.
We’ll marvel at the beauty found in the connection we share.
I may pull your rolling red Samsonite for a stretch, and you might offer to carry my fraying black backpack.
I will empathize and address your concerns with compassion. I will hand you tissues when you cry and pour the wine while you laugh so hard you can’t hold your glass.
I will listen while you detail the reasons for your choices. We’ll both smile and nod when we realize we’ve made similar mistakes.
We’ll learn lessons from each other that we wouldn’t be able to learn from another.
I’ll be the first to pat you on the back. Though I instinctively brush off your kind words, I’ll try to remember to be gracious.
Neither of us may know where we are going, but I will not follow you.
That’s not my journey.
Jenny fixes a too gaudy Barbie dress by altering it. She cuts off the flouncy sleeves and shortens the train. She might use tape or thread or buttons, but she knows she can fix it. She’ll even fix Barbie’s hair with snips here and there.
When the wheels don’t spin fast enough on his skateboard, Will can fix that problem by cleaning the bearings.
I can fix a too-thin sauce in a batch of Chicken and Broccoli Fettuccine by letting the sauce soak into the pasta a bit before serving.
I fix the toilet when it makes that whistling sound. Will fixes the squeaky hinge on the art supply cupboard. Jen fixes a meal of flowers and herbs for her imaginary pony.
Fixing is what we do. Fixing is in our blood. Continue reading →
Through tears he said, “I don’t wanna go. I’m tired. Do we have to? Do we have to do a dad visit?”
I said, “I’m sorry, Honey. I know. You are tired, but that’s not a good enough excuse to skip out on a visit. You can be tired at dad’s house, too.”
He said, “I know that, but it’s not the same. It’s not comfortable there.”
__________
Later, when sorting through Tech Decks and old Golf Magazines, picking up air soft ammo and discussing the logic behind owning seven backpacks, we found the wallet he lost last Thanksgiving.
“Mom! Can you believe it? There are gift cards in there, too. I thought I’d never see that wallet again!”
I said, “You lead a charmed life, Cowboy. Do you see that?”
He said, “I know, mom. I do lead a charmed life. Even if I have to go to dad’s today, I still have it pretty good.”
He walked out of the room to show Jen the found wallet.
A bit later he came back in and said, “I get it, mom. The good is that much better because of the bad.”
A semi hauling gasoline was in front, another semi was behind, and we were crawling along a snow-packed two-lane road under heavy cloud cover and falling snow.
My hands were at 10 o’clock and 2 o’clock on the steering wheel. The tunes weren’t blaring like they are when the roads are dry.
“Will, honey, I can’t talk right now. I need to concentrate on these roads.”
The snow kept falling.
The skies stayed gray. Continue reading →
Once upon a time there was a contented village where everyone worked together to pursue their goals, realize their dreams, raise their children and make the world’s best ice cream.
There was one governing rule in the village:
Relationships must come first.
Relationships with partners, spouses, kids, parents, friends, grandparents, dogs, cats, gardens, trees, birds, butterflies, dandelions and all other living things must come first.
When a villager reached an age where self-awareness could benefit her rather than taint her (think narcissism) the relationship with her own self would become a priority as well. Continue reading →
Dear Valentine,
I’ve been waiting for you.
I knew you’d come around.
I knew you’d get to a point where you’d finally see your own beauty. I knew that chip on your shoulder would heal and the anger would dissipate.
There is so much of you to love.
Your tender, compassionate heart never lets you give up. Your enthusiasm and belief that goodness will prevail is a contagious quality. The wisdom acquired from making mistakes and the lessons learned gives you a depth of character that is your most attractive quality.
You are graceful but still able to be silly; patient as well as spontaneous; and ready to laugh at yourself because you stopped taking yourself seriously.
You know you still have a lot to learn, and you aren’t afraid to change course in order to learn more.
Your actions back up your words. You’ve stated your priorities and you invest your time and energies in those priorities. You are an inspiration because of the choices you’ve made.
You are beautiful when you run around in your leopard print bathrobe and fuzzy red socks in the morning, before a shower, sipping cold coffee because you are busy with kids, feeding the cat, answering emails, stoking the fire, figuring out what to make for dinner, and swapping loads between washer and dryer.
You are beautiful when, with a kind voice, you announce that you need a break, and escape to the couch with a book and a steaming cup of Earl Grey.
You are beautiful flying down a ski hill, laughing at your own failed attempts at trying to catch your kids.
You are beautiful when you give what you can, but hold back before reaching the point of having nothing left to give.
You are beautiful when you cry during mushy movies, at the end of a great book, or when you look on your kids’ artwork.
You are beautiful when you let your kids follow their passions, even if it means you have sprouting potatoes in glasses of water in the window sill, ski wax all over the garage floor, and paint brushes in every corner of the kitchen.
You are beautiful when you try and fail and own your mistakes with grace and humor.
You are most beautiful when you keep trying without letting resentment cloud your heart or disappointment keep your spirit hidden.
I love that even on a crappy day, you are capable of finding beauty in stormy skies, piles of clean folded laundry, and a dinner that manages to please three different appetites.
I love the person you are now, but I also love knowing that you haven’t arrived yet. I can’t wait to see who you become.
I love that you’ve chosen to be kind to yourself. I love that you know what you are worth and what you deserve.
Anyone would be fortunate to call you Valentine.
Won’t you be mine?
They said, “How bad can it be? He doesn’t beat you. He doesn’t gamble. He isn’t gone every weekend. You have a nice home. How bad can it be?”
They said, “You know, it’s not easy being a single mom. There will be lonely nights. It’s a lot to handle by yourself. Are you sure this is what you want?”
She said, “I don’t want to hear your reasons for leaving him. I think he’s wonderful.”
He said, “I thought you were the perfect couple. You looked like you were happy. Wasn’t he making enough money for you?”
And when I started this blog, they said, “You shouldn’t dwell on all this negative stuff. It just isn’t healthy for you or the kids. Leave all this toxic stuff behind you.”
…
After I’d been writing for over two years, and the kids and I had clearly grown and worked through a laundry list of issues, they said, “Well, where are you going to go with this now? You’ve survived. You’re thriving, even. You’ve clearly come out the other side and you’ve made great progress. Why are you still writing about surviving narcissism?”
__________
This morning I received an email. She said, “I saw the comment that came from another corner of the world. I see how many there are. I see how they all wonder if they might be crazy. I see how this impacts children. I see how this might help. I get it now.”
I knew she would.
He said, “Mom, why do you think I’m outta sorts today?”
I said, “Maybe you’re wishing we had snow. Maybe this is the pre-dad visit funk. Maybe you need to eat something. Or, maybe it’s just one of those days.”
And because the hot water of the shower has a way of warming my skull and opening my brain to the current of ideas that passes in and around this house, I came out of the bathroom with an inspired thought.
I want to see your faces.
I want to give and receive genuine hugs.
I want to hear your stories and connect while looking into your eyes.
I also have a craving for that scritchy feeling of sand under the waistband of my swimsuit.
There is an undercurrent of truth seekers in the river of life.
They are everywhere.
Some carry backpacks full of self-help books. Some can be seen taking a Myers-Briggs Test at the corner table in Starbucks. Some fill yoga classes. Some do Tai Chi on a sunny afternoon at the park, and they don’t care who might be watching.
Some might meditate.
Some might write in a dog-eared journal. Continue reading →
