Memories

The Waiting Room

Collected colors dreams still
holding on the words not yet ready
to send their messages on memories
the days finding their resting place, shallow breaths
waiting for more inhales
before tending to the inside

For to some this space may feel
or look
clogged undone untidy unmanageable out-of-control
but to me it is the waiting room
the holding place where if I am careful enough
I won’t lose any of its
wildly lived perfect truth and meaning

The Thanksgiving I am most Thankful For

My grandma knocked on the door, her hair was half curled. The other half was remarkably messy, especially for her. She quickly hugged me then called for my mom inside. I ran out the door to the car to help carry the pies inside.  When I found my grandpa hunkered over the trunk he handed me a pie for each hand, there were more still in the trunk. My grandma was famous, in our family at least, for her pie. These didn’t look right, similar to her hair they were only done on one side and now after the car ride they were also lopsided.

I walked inside carefully with my hands full of pie and found an open place on the counter. Soon the lights flickered and everyone held their breath. It was about two hours before dinner would be served, our house was practically the only one in all of the Seattle area still with power. The winds were fierce and the huge maple leaves went swirling past our windows again and again. Then the lights flickered again and just like that we were all standing in the natural dim light of a blustery Thanksgiving Day.

Before I knew what happened there were candles lit in the kitchen, the adults were in deep discussion about what was already cooked, what needed to still finish cooking and there was a recount for the number of guests coming to dinner. They were all feeling very grateful for deciding to BBQ the turkey, the first time they tried it (I should note this was more than thirty years ago and my parents have cooked their turkey on the BBQ ever since). I don’t remember if it was my sister or myself who reminded my parents it felt like we were camping. This thought sparked an idea that there was a stove in the camper trailer that might work to finish cooking the remaining dishes.

My Dad quickly loaded up, umbrella in one hand and stuffing and a pie in the other, and walked down the path in our yard toward our camper trailer. The remaining dishes, including the gravy were finished over the camp stove. To keep my sister and I busy we were asked to make a centerpiece. It was lighter outside than inside so we collected leaves of every color and brought them inside. We dried them off, found some extra large candles and helped set the table.

The last of the guests arrived, the last of the food was done, the turkey smelled wonderful. We sat down, all 12 or so of us crammed around the dinning room table where there was the best light to eat by. And just as the last of us said what we were thankful for the lights flickered and then stayed on.

I don’t know about anyone else at the table that year but I was disappointed the lights turned on. There was something extra special about sitting around a table of fresh cooked food by candle light with my family. Each of us added something to the feast and we were all so grateful to eat warm food together. In every way, this is my favorite Thanksgiving and I know it always will be.

Life: In Flight

Photo By: Carrie (Heading North from Anchorage)

I feel like I have been away from this platform for long enough. Yet, it has been so long that I don’t know what to share first or how to begin.

The past summer and into these fall months have been so full. Not busy and frantic or anxious and whizzing by. They have been full of hope, love and so much learning. It has been beyond a recharge, more like a shift into a greater understanding of my needs and my families as well. (more…)