I haven't been here for so long. But it is fall again and I find myself warming to the idea of coming back home, so to speak...into the house more, yes, but also back to the comforts of home. We moved our dining table last week so suddenly our small space has opened up into a huge living area. Tristan is so happy to have more space...I don't even think he realizes how happy he seems at the wider space. Do you like it, I asked him. Yes, he said. But he sits in his little rocking chair, reading a book happily, rocking gently back and forth. I am surprised at how content he is to read on his own, even though of course he doesn't read words, just looks at pictures and surely remembers the story from an earlier reading, but he talks quietly to himself while reading and he is content. He is growing so fast. I miss him as a baby but of course wouldn't trade him back for anything. He wakes in the morning, full of ideas and things to say. Mommy? Do you know what I don't want daddy to do? I don't want him to burn any ropes. What? I ask. Do you remember, mommy, do you remember when we lived in the other house and he burned the end of that rope? Yes. I remember. To keep it from unraveling. But Tristan doesn't want daddy to do that again (did he have a dream? How and why did he suddenly remember this?) He tells his daddy this and daddy says, o.k., he won't do it again.

He is such a lovely and thoughtful boy. I am not nearly patient enough.

A surprise note from a very old friend has opened my heart. I am not the only one who reaches out on occasion, at the risk of seeming silly or overly emotional. I think that is why we were such good friends.

My lovely son seems to be getting scared of things, looking to daddy for protection. This makes me so sad. Of course I want to protect him from all fear. If I hug him enough, it should go away, but I know it won't.

tired now. sleep.

A moment to write...

I really miss writing on this blog! It has been so long. I had such a wonderful time last spring starting this blog and really caring for it. School has taken over my free time now and life has become so busy lately. We have moved and somehow, even though I am now sharing an office space with my hubby, I am blissfully happy here. This home that we have moved back into after a 16 month hiatus has welcomed us back with open arms. It loves us here. We can feel it. While the larger home we were in for that short while had its benefits, more space for example, this is where we belong. For now at least.

My sewing machine is on my desk, and I made two small things last week. First, a little holder for my phone out of a pair of wool plaid blue pants I got specifically for this project. I also made "woman's cloth." I figure, since we've moved to this space where there is virtually no yard, and therefore no more compost, I have to make up for that in other ways. I am attempting to go "green" in other ways. It sure feels weird now to throw my veggie waste into the trash...eesh. I am still using my homemade deodorant and using baking soda and water for shampoo, although I recently have decided I need to use a hair gel. My hair is too unruly without it and it looks shabby unless I washed it that day. So, for now I'm using Burt's Bees hair gel for men, for which there seems to be no info on the cosmetic safety website. But I did find a hair gel recipe where flax seeds are boiled in hot water, then it turns into a gel and you can add essential oils! That may be my next project!

Seasons change

well. Thank you for your comments on my last post. I wrote a comment in that post summarizing much of what I'd read from you all. I hope you have a chance to go back and read it. I am so happy to have met so many amazing people with similar goals!

On Monday, I start school. I may have mentioned it before - I can't remember! The year I was pregnant, 2006, I completed two semesters of school for my Master's degree in Public History. But when Tristan came and I barely had time to take a shower, I knew I'd made the right decision to take a break.

I am signed up for two classes but I may need to reduce that to one. I am nervous. I am excited. But mostly I am excited. I love history. Especially personal history and place history and thing history - and these are what make up public history. My husband and I have a little joke - whenever someone asks me a question on world or ancient history I always look to him because really, I don't know much about world history! In college I focused on 19th-20th century American history...boring right? At least as compared to the history of the world? But my hubby came from Iran where schooling was learned and tested in much greater ways. I remember studying Alexander the Great in junior high, but I couldn't tell you much about what I read. My hubby knows all about that stuff though. I think he thinks it's pretty funny that I majored in history but couldn't tell you much about the Silk Road or the Roman Empire. Except from what I watched on HBO's Rome. The last show I enjoyed when my son was a little one. I don't watch TV anymore. Movies occasionally, but T.V....are you kidding?

So when will I study? I'm not getting a nanny and Tristan is not going to day care. I will study in the mornings, during his naps, and if he goes to bed early, I will study at night. Occasionally I can't sleep so I will keep a book near my bed. I've heard people can do all sorts of things with kids, even finish a degree. So I suppose I can do this. But other things will suffer - this blog for one. My crafty projects for another. I hope to post here occasionally though. I use this blog as an outlet for writing, among other things, so when I get excited about something, be sure you will hear about it here.

If for some reason this whole going back to school thing doesn't work, I think my life may change in other ways. I guess I always give myself an out, in case of failure (and not wanting to look like a failure!) But the thing that always motivates me is asking myself, "Is this the life I want to lead? --No? Then what needs to happen so that I am living the life I want to live?" This served as the impetus needed to divorce my first husband, apply for school when I started the master's program, have a child - so many life changing events began with this question.

The next time I write here may be a blast from the past...or maybe just some inspired thought from my classes or reading!

Panic subsiding...

bridge at Japanese Gardens, Portland, Oregon

When I was 21, I looked ahead and saw a long decade and a long life, stretched out before me. I was perfectly happy to be 21 and didn't see any reason to get any older...we all know how that turned out.

About a month ago, I was swimming in a pool and I looked around at the other people, both young and old, and suddenly I felt a wave of panic...I was going to be 35 in a month. Had I done all I wanted to do on this side of 70? Certainly not, but my time had filled in as it had, and there was nothing I could do about it now. But was I satisfied? Content? Even, dare I say, happy? Yes, yes and yes. While the wave of panic, which I decided was a little glimpse of the "middle age crisis" that supposedly hits at about 40, slowly subsided, I remembered that all I have is this moment. Judging my past or worrying about my future won't change anything in that moment, and in that moment, I realized I had all I could ever dream of in my life, so yes, I was happy and I am happy.

I turn 35 today, half way to 70. I don't feel like I've lived 35 years, but when I think about my very earliest memories, they do seem very long ago. I have a wonderful, sweet, fun husband, an adorable, rascally 2 1/2 year old, a caring family, wonderful friends, creative outlets, daily inspiration, beauty all around, health and healthy choices, delicious food, a willingness to make changes and a gorgeous view when I come to sit in my little office on mornings like this, before the sun rises. Is everything perfect? Heck no, but I don't think it's supposed to be.

Or maybe it is - just perfect for me.

Dove family!

Remember a few weeks back when I posted about a little dove nested on our deck's lamp? Well, she has had her babies and the little dove family has taken a short little stay-cation in our backyard.

These are the proud parents looking down into our yard, keeping a close eye on their babies!

Here is a little one  - don't worry, I used a zoom so as not to scare them, so, bad picture, but sweet dove!

Can you see the little camouflaged dove family?

I think the little dove eggs were laid late this year, but I'm no dove expert. What a sweet little saga we've been following though. I aimed my camera from up high onto their empty nest looking for shells, because I was curious to see how big they were, and what color they were, but the shells were not there!

Sickness and transformations

blue hydrangea

I have been out of contact for what feels like days as I nurse my little one back to health. He's never had a fever so high, 104 degrees at its highest. He has come in and out of sickness over the past 2 1/2 days, going from feeling well, to tummy ache to feverish and lethargic and back to well again. How it pulls my motherstrings! I think he is on the mend now, for he hasn't had a fever since last night, and felt well enough to go for a short walk this morning. 

Vintage Vignettes is going through a bit of a transformation I will soon share with you. It is very exciting because I so love history and all the little stories individuals hold about their past and the past of those they've loved. I hope I can instill in others some of this passion I have for bygone years and treasures of the old days.

Will post again soon.

-genny

Sunday visitors

dove nest on balcony

My hubby told me once that a bird never returns to an old nest...I couldn't see why not...a perfectly good nest that is still in place would be a perfect place to go. But I'm not an expert at these things. You can imagine my surprise then, when I stepped out onto our balcony yesterday with my son, just after he woke from his nap, to find that the nest above the lamp that had been made several years ago by a pair of doves, was being inhabited again. I must have surprised the little dove, since we rarely go out there. 

We were a little afraid that she was alone, as a few days before, there was evidence of some dove trouble. Several little feathers were found under the tree near the balcony. My husband was worried - crises in the natural world bother him - as he likes to fix things, and he could do nothing if this pretty dove's mate was gone. He had been told doves mate for life, and if one dove dies, the other will die soon after or commits something of a suicide (I have no idea if this is true, this is what he was told.)

My husband went inside feeling a little down while my son and I remained outside to read on a blanket (June has been uncommonly wonderful to us weather-wise). As we sat there we finally saw Mr. Dove fly up to the wire nearby the balcony, and no sooner did he land than Mrs. Dove took off to some undisclosed location in my neighbor's yard or thereabout. Mr. Dove took off quickly, following her. A minute later I heard their sweet coos.

I went to tell my husband what I'd seen. He said, "Thank God! You don't know what a big weight has been lifted from my shoulders." He said that the male dove was bringing the female dove some food to eat, his duty during the long process of egg-sitting. I then told him that just before we came inside, we could hear them making their cooing noises. He said, "They're saying 'I love you. I missed you.' The female is saying, 'Thank you for the food.'"

What a sweet Sunday.

a morning's rouse

This morning, when my son wanted to be nursed back to sleep, he rolled over and called out, "Mommy!" I hear him on my monitor.

I come running, as always. "Yes - I'm here babydoll!" 

He rolls over sleepily to one side and says in a squeaky little voice, "Mommy, are you happy?" 

"I'm very happy," I say. ohmigosh. With a question like that from my little guy? How could I not be?

Boy am I lucky. (Thank you God)

A little piece of the past: Vintage Vignettes

When I started this blog, I wanted to use it partially to bring bits of history to light. The bits of history we come across every day, the captured moments we find in an item from our past...whether it belonged to us or not. I first fell in love with *history* in 4th grade, the year we learned about California history, and my class was lucky enough to take an overnight field trip to Sutter's Fort, where we dressed like pioneers, worked in the different Fort facilities, making candles, baking bread, selling and buying wares, cooking for 40 or so people, and even standing guard for one shift in the middle of the night. It definitely was the impetus for this ongoing love affair I have with all things related to history.  I'm not an expert at California or American history, but I can tell you there is a story behind every item you see in the antique shop. The small material possessions that we all have are the things that make up our lives - the permanence that will remain long after we are gone (luckily, most of our antiques are not plastic - too bad for our grandchildren...).

Right after my sophomore year of college, I decided to take a year off from school because I still had no idea what I would major in, a decision that was weighing on me and had to be decided soon, at the beginning of my junior year. One Saturday morning I was passing a yard sale where I spied an old, wooden, stand-up radio. This was a piece of furniture - and gorgeous! I somehow attained it for only $15 and the man I bought it from helped me lift it into the trunk of my car. Somehow or another I found out it was a 1929 Atwater-Kent. I found some fabric I liked and re-upholstered the hole in the wood that sat in front of the speaker. The electronic radio parts no longer worked - but no matter ( I kept them but never tried to get it fixed), I used it as a furniture piece in my bedroom, for my things - jewelry, perfume - above which a mirror was placed. Once I even put my current stereo inside and a small speaker where the old speaker had been (not that the sound quality was great through the layers of fabric). On the top of this old radio there was a ring stain - made from a glass of water? A vase of flowers? A vodka tonic? Who knows...but this stain held a story - this stain was the evidence of someone's life - the original owner of the radio perhaps.....I could picture a woman in a dress, standing near the radio. She places her glass of water - still wet on the outside - onto the radio's wood top, as she leans down to push the ottoman in front of her easy chair. She wants to get comfortable for the evening radio show. She goes back to the radio to get her glass of water and sits in her chair for her show. Later, when her show is over, she is about to turn off the lamp that sits on the radio, she sees the ring of water there. "Darn," she thinks, and starts to rub it off, but she can see the stain has already set...

Well, who knows. But this is my imagination, running wild around objects of the past as it always does. I suppose this little ring stain figured it's way into my life and helped me decide that year off to major in history. And now, as I'm about to go back to school in the fall to finish a Master's in Public History, I want to infuse it into my life in some different ways, different from visiting museums or reading books. And this is where you all come in.

So here goes...I am starting a little collection on this blog called "Vintage Vignettes" - which is something like what I've done above, but very wide open. I want to collect stories from the past, vignettes really, just scenes from lives.  This can be in the form of a photograph, a memory you have (needs to be at least 20 years old), or a story you have from a grandparent's life. This can be an item mentioned that we no longer use in every day life, even a thought you may have on how people once lived before the modern day (see Blue Yonder's Blue Blazes for example!), an oral history interview you were lucky enough to participate in, an antique or vintage item you just had to have because...? It has to be personal though. That is the only caveat. No stories about a history exhibit you saw, unless, say, some item stood out to you for some reason, and you want to write about that particular thing as it relates to your life. If you desire, please write these in your blogs (please link back to this entry so other people can participate), let me know, and I will post that entry into my sidebar under "Vintage Vignettes." If it is a photograph you want to post, please become a member of the Flicker Group Vintage Vignettes and post your photo there! Please add a title/caption and some description to give it a sense of time and/or place. This is all about telling stories, whether they be true or "tales out of school" this is the place for them. Share/tell as many as you'd like. They can be short (1-2 sentences) or long (whatever your blogsite will hold!) I will be doing this too, my goal is to make this a regular post, or at least as often as they come to me - I may choose a day for this. Sunday seems like a nice, dreamy day for vintage - but we'll see!  Please have fun with this! I can't wait to read your stories and see your photos! 

(by the way, if you do not have a blog but want to participate, please email me your story and I will post it in one of my entries, crediting you. Then I will place that day's entry under the sidebar "Vintage Vignettes." Make sure to give your story a title!)

changes

Sometimes all the doubts and fears pile up and I find myself unable to write for long periods of time. Sometimes the thoughts are all I can deal with at once, and putting anything down is more than I want to deal with. I have occasional periods where doubts feel overwhelming and I just don't feel like doing anything. Then, the next day, I'll wake up and it will all be gone, like a bad dream, and my mood has lifted and the sun is shining beautifully again. I have become such a mom - I sometimes feel listless without my son, unable to do anything that seems productive and meaningful. I suppose some of this is all just postpartum - late and leftover from the early days of motherhood. The thoughts of him growing and not needing me give me so much sadness and knowing he will leave the nest someday fills my eyes with tears. I know I will be ready (I hope) when that day comes. But the best thing I can do now, I know, is to just live in the moment, since I cannot change what happens in the future. Yes, I know: what am I worried about? He's only 2 1/2. I know. But the changes are exponential. I spoke to my 5 1/2 year old nephew on the phone today and I remember so clearly when he was 6 months old, asleep in my arms (he lives in Alaska so I don't get to watch him grow up). 

Anyhow, this is my absence. I rarely watch T.V., but it seems to be all I can do this week. I hope to regain some vitality soon and return to write here regularly. I do enjoy it. I just need to have that wonderful morning where I rise and shine.

An empty video monitor screen and New beginnings

This morning I sit in front of this computer without looking at the video monitor of my boy sleeping. Why? I have just dropped him off for his first day at a pre-school. It is in a backyard of a woman's house, and it is Waldorf-based, so there is a lot of outdoor, unstructured play. I love it. Tristan seems to like it. But driving home after dropping him off was such a surreal experience. My boy. Preschool. Wasn't he just born? Didn't I just bring him home from the hospital in his little carrier last week? Didn't that happen? I realize he's a little young to go to preschool, but there is no "education" (as we think of it) involved, and he gets some time on his own, gets to learn that mommy comes back, gets to play with children around his age and hopefully feels comfortable enough to go back tomorrow! I am going back to school in the fall to hopefully finish my master's program in Public History. It would be an impossible task if he didn't have some place to go to while I do some studying, so we are doing a trial-run this summer to make sure Tristan is comfortable and adjusted when the real deal starts for me in the fall. I don't think I planned for him to go to any other sort of care until he was around 4, but occasionally, life plans change, as we all know. I am excited but also a little sad. I keep glancing at the video monitor because I never sit here when he is awake. Being a parent is an act of vigilance, and at the moment, with a black screen on the monitor, I have nothing to be vigilant about. 

It is a little surreal. 

Inspiration, weeding the garden of your mind, gratitude

One night, when my son was just over a year old, I couldn't sleep. I got up and wrote in my diary that I wanted to become the woman I am inspired by. This is not any particular person, it's just who or what I feel inspired by at any given moment. I had watched "Iconoclasts" on the Sundance channel earlier in the evening with the pairing of Ruby Dee and Alicia Keys. I hadn't really ever seen either one of these talented women before, but I found myself thinking about them in the middle of the night, and feeling inspired by them both. "I want to be the woman whom I am inspired by," I wrote. what does this mean to me now? It's led me to be a more conscientious mother. To be more conscious of the choices I make and how they affect my life. To strive to feel good - that means taking care of myself. I'll be a much happier wife and mother if I'm eating healthy and exercising regularly (although the exercise part can be challenging to get to at times). If I'm having an abundance of creativity I feel very inspired. Creativity spawns inspiration and inspiration spawns creativity. It is a wonderful cycle to be in.

I read a short article in Body & Soul magazine from the July/August 2008 issue about a book called Plant, Seed, Pull Weed: Nurturing the Garden of Your Life by Geri Larkin. "Larkin takes readers into her vegetable and flower garden to teach them a few lessons about what our minds and spirits need to thrive. One of the most important tasks? Weeding. 'If you have a garden, you'll get weeds...If you have a mind, you'll get junky thinking.'...So how do you rid yourself of useless, unnecessary thoughts? 'We stop feeding them the fertilizer of attention. As a result, our minds calm down, and as they do, we watch our lives become lighter, happier, and surprisingly more interesting. When the weeds are gone, you'll be amazed at how quickly everything else takes over. Beauty is there, expanding by the minute.'" I snipped this article and posted it on my wall. It's currently above my desk and I look to it whenever my mind is bogged down with negative thinking. It provides the same lovely lift that a gratitude list does and it doesn't cost a cent. It also reminds me to take stock of my life and to stop doing something if it isn't working for me. I partially credit this idea of weeding the mind of junky thinking for all the creativity I've had lately. It's amazing what shows up when my mind isn't cluttered by useless thought. I'm still working on this though.

I feel that lately some of my posts have been less than optimal. I have been a very busy bee working in this little "room of my own" on a big project that I will be able to tell you about in the coming weeks. It is an exciting time for me here, but also a little bit stressful, and this little blog has been taking the backseat lately. I hope to return to it more fully soon, with fresh inspiration.

When I remember to be grateful, I am inspired. So here is my little list of gratitude:

~the feel of old, well-washed linen in my hand

~an organized desk

~a well-taken picture

~packages in the mail

~memories of our trip to Boston (what a lovely city)

~pictures of Tristan when he was a newborn, baby, toddler (it's amazing what can be forgotten. Thank goodness for pictures!)

Fleeting Spring, fruit foraging, an early Summer weekend

basket of cherries

In these parts if you blink, you'll miss spring. Spring lasts about as long as a holiday weekend. Sometimes it will tease you as early as February where you'll get a warm day or two. In March it will tantalize you into thinking it's here! it's here! But then the rains and the winds will come and you'll feel duped. In April, you'll get your full bucket of spring. A week or two period where everything is lovely. If you're lucky you won't have any too hot days (but don't count on it). And in May, just when you think the going is good, that the world couldn't get any sweeter than this, spring turns on you and becomes summer. 

Summer here is hot. Yesterday, supposedly it got to be around 103 degrees. It's not my favorite like it used to be. With global warming, the smog of this northern California valley, and having a little boy with tender skin (I'm sure the sun thinks of it as "fresh meat"), how can it be fully enjoyed? But yet, I am still a summer girl. I always loved the summer growing up and that carefree feeling I used to get is still there, coming out in the early mornings when it is cool enough to enjoy, and in the evenings when the heat breaks to the 80's or 90's (hopefully) or 70's (if we're lucky). This weekend I got a taste of that, and those carefree memories.

Our neighbors, the one with the big urban garden? They are gone for the entire month of May. they have friends watching over their house and garden, but also asked us to come in and pick a bit before the birds get to things. Like cherries. Yes, cherries! Their cherry tree is full of lovely red morsels and already have a few bird bites in them, but we saved a basketful and I imagine another basket will be saved today. Somebody has to do it. My husband loves fruit. Growing up, his mother gave he and his siblings fruit as a treat (like, "finish your supper and you can have some figs") so he is in heaven this time 

of year as we take our neighborhood walks. Loquats on the trees free for the taking, 

japanese plums in the parks (he doesn't mind if they're a bit sour - in fact likes them that way), citrus left over from winter - lemons and oranges are always bountiful here in California (it's amazing what people don't eat from their own trees), and later this summer there are a few fig trees around these parts that the 'hoodies know about. Hopefully we'll get some of those before they've all been pilfered. Anyway, be warned: if you see us walking around your neighborhood, look out -  we are serious fruit pillagers. 

My mom found me a great quilt at a yard sale this weekend! For eight bucks I got this lovely

wedding ring quilt - but it was store bought, apparently. Not handmade as I hoped...but still it was nice. I washed it, hung it to dry, and took off our big winter comforter from the bed to replace with our new summer quilt. Much better. I also made some great finds at an estate sale that I am very excited about.

Saturday evening, sitting out in the backyard, we spotted a hummingbird on a wire. How often do you see that? I rarely see hummingbirds and I've never seen one still. But I ran to get my camera because he kept returning to this perch. My hubby said he thinks his mate or a nest is nearby. He's keeping his eyes out for somebody, anyway...

During Tristan's nap I got my office cleaned almost completely! I am very excited about an upcoming project I am making way for. Cleaning this office is a big part of that.

On Sunday afternoon, after nap, Tristan and I walked over to Grampa and Mimi's (my dad and step-mom's) house for a dip in their pool and some Sunday supper. I am so pleased that he enjoys water as much as I do. After supper, he wanted to go back in so we sat on the steps with Mimi and I went around to get the net to fish out one of his toys from the middle. Instead I jumped in. "Do it again!" Tristan yelled! I did. And again. He thought it was very funny. I was happy to cool off. 

A little bit later we walked home. I am happy to report that the temperature did in fact cool a bit and it is still. officially. spring.

Mother's day highs and lows, God's mysterious ways

Yesterday. Was a lovely mother's day. I spent time with my mama and my boy. Later, my husband and my boy, but first thing in the morning, around 6:30 a.m. I received a disturbing phone call.

C. and I had spent some time together before I moved last October. I hadn't moved far, just changed neighborhoods a few miles away. But she was rather homebound without a car (that was one of several mysteries - I was never sure if she did or did not have a car). Something was a little off with C. - she was fine - her son was a year older than mine and it was through him that I initially saw that something was just "off" if you know what I mean. Something just didn't mesh with the mother and son's personalities. She was sweet, friendly, easy to talk to and I enjoyed being with her. Her son was a little terror. He would be fine for awhile, then do something just mean to my son. My boy would end up crying and after this happened two or three times, I determined that this other boy's behavior was purposeful and we stopped spending time with the two of them almost altogether. I was sad about this because I enjoyed C's company so much, but I had other priorities - mainly my son's well-being. So.

When I moved I gave her my number, and she gave me hers. I didn't expect to really see her, but I thought maybe after some time had passed her son would change and become nicer. A few days ago I called her out of the blue when I was visiting the old neighborhood. No answer. Weird outgoing message left by her husband. I left a message and called again, just to hear that outgoing message - to be sure I heard right. It was just "off" -again. I mentioned it to my husband. "I don't think her husband is a nice person," I said.

Then, at 6:30 a.m. yesterday I happen to be up and my phone happens to be nearby. She calls out of the blue. I see her name on the screen and think, "That's strange...it's so early." Of course you know all the phone calls you get after 10 at night or before 7 in the morning are probably bad news. Don't you just brace yourself when you hear the phone ring at odd times? At first she didn't know who she was calling. She was calling me because she had seen the phone number on her phone and didn't recognize the number (her husband hadn't relayed my message). She wanted to see who it was. Her voice was steely and sad until she realized who I was (I had to explain three different ways until she realized). Then she was happy to hear from me - she just needed to talk to someone and I was the only person that had answered. Her circumstances were very sad. 

On this mother's day, she caught her husband with another woman asleep in their bed alongside their son. This was not the first time he was caught and now I find out what I felt was just "off" - he was abusive (physically, she mentioned one episode, but mainly it sounded like very mentally/emotionally abusive) to her and their relationship was not a good one (that perhaps helped explain her son's behavior toward mine). The police had been there when he had been pounding on the door and their little boy was a witness to all of this. It sounded as though her husband was a mean drunk (as opposed to a thoughtful drunk?) - I had a brief experience of this with my first husband and relived an episode or two while I spoke to her. At the moment I was talking to her, she was in the bath trying to decide what to do as her son slept. I asked her to call WEAVE or another such center and she said she had all the numbers. "That's a great idea I'm so glad I talked to you." She was obviously not thinking clearly - I thought I just told her what was obvious. After talking with her for about 20 minutes she decided to call WEAVE and told me she would call me later to let me know how she was and what her plan was.

We talked throughout the day and at some point early on she decided she would call her father and go there on lightrail and stay there for awhile. In one conversation with her later on in the morning, she said her husband was at work, but already starting with the "honeymoon phase," (the lovey-dovey make up period after a period of abuse) asking her if he should get off work early to go out to dinner for mother's day. We sent a few text messages throughout the day as well, and at some point I offered to drive her and her son to her father's house since she was packing a bag to take, plus, I hoped that seeing a friend would do her some good. Domestic situations are ugly though, and I was a little nervous. I thought I'd meet her around the corner, just in case her husband happened to come home early.

In the middle of the day though, I said to my husband, "You know, when you are going through this in the middle of the night, things seem hopeless and you get desperate and you're not thinking clearly. But in the clear light of day, when the sky is blue and the birds are chirping like they are right now, you think, 'maybe it's not that bad...how can it be that bad when the day is this beautiful and families are out celebrating mother's day...'  I'm thinking I probably won't hear from her. I think she'll stay with him. As mad as she was with him last night, she's been doubting herself all day." She had said to me in some conversation, "Can I do this? Can I be a single mom?" Yes, I told her. You can be a better mom as a single mom than you can being married to him." She had a B.A. from a prestigious university - she was not a "stereotypical" battered woman (whatever that is), this was an educated girl. When it comes to matters of the heart though, I think most of us gals leave logic at the wayside, and feel our way through a situation. 

When I was with my first husband, miserable, at one point I said to myself, "Is this me? Is this who I am and how I want to live? I didn't envision this for myself. I hate this life." It was at that moment that I knew I would leave. I just needed the opportunity to do so. I asked for it. It was dramatic, but I received it and I left.

People always seem to ask, 'why didn't God help me?' but the truth is, he does - maybe he doesn't snap his fingers and change things, but he gives us opportunities. It's up to us to take them. I told her yesterday that this was an opportunity for her to leave this awful relationship, and that she had to think about her son and his environment. 

But I didn't hear back from her. I didn't get that call to come pick her up. I'd had a feeling she was changing her mind. I text'd her to see if she was o.k. and she wrote back that she was, and "thanks." And that is it. And I imagine she is still with him, and maybe they made up. All you can give is what people are willing to receive. I hope she seeks another opportunity and finds her way out.

For her son, at least.

Two roads "divulged" and a lovely poem

Yesterday, I recounted to my hubby an incident that had happened earlier in the day. Tristan and I were driving home from the library just after a giant black cloud broke open and rain began to fall. We were about to turn onto our street when I saw a man approaching the curb at about the same time, so I pulled into the bike lane to let the traffic flow in the street behind me as well as to let the man cross the street. The man had stopped at the curb and at first he didn't look at me - I was waiting to make eye contact to let him know he should go ahead and cross - and then after a long delay, he looked at me, in obvious irritation and with one giant loop of his arm, told me that I should go. I went.

As I told this to my husband, we were asking each other, was he irritated because I had held him up? He had to stand on the curb in the rain as I waited and he waited for the other to go. Was he irritated because it was raining after such a lovely start to spring? Maybe he was irritated for some other reason entirely. What comes to mind though is our dour economic condition and the way it seems to be affecting so many people in so many ways. Everyday there is news of a killing rampage and suicide and homelessness and kidnapping (this kind of news is exactly why I stopped watching local television news on t.v. altogether). I think everyone is hit to some extent by this recession - but some far worse than others, and it is here where the desperation comes from. I just want to shout out that nothing is so bad that a life has to end because of it. If there is no light, one will not appreciate the dark and all it has to offer, and if there is no dark, one will not appreciate the light and all it gives. The hardest of times and the darkest of days have two paths, one of desperation, of being a victim, and one of changed circumstances, of seeing the difficult time as a chance to make a positive change. In our family, we are by no means desperate but our standard of living (from the point of view of our consumer culture) has definitely diminished. This blog is the evidence of a giant burst of creativity that has resulted in my lessening my family's overall "footprint" in both the environment and the economy. Obviously I can't know the depth of burden that someone else has to carry, but what I think is important here is that all of this is temporary, none of it has the ability to change who we are at our core. Who we are is not what we buy or where we live or how much we know. My husband's father had a saying, "If you cannot change your circumstances, you must change your perception of your circumstances." That possibility is within us all. There is always a choice.

As far as the man on the street goes, well, I am "thin-skinned" as they say, and my feelings are easily hurt where others may not think twice about something. But be that as it may, you'll notice that if you walk down the street with a furrowed brow, you'll meet other furrowed brows, but greet with a smile and you'll get smiles - and this can make someone's whole day.

Below is a poem by Rumi, - it is so eloquent that it really is all I should have written today. Think of everything above is merely a lead-in for this lovely piece:

The Guest House

This being human is a guest house

Every morning a new arrival.

A joy, a depression, a meanness,

some momentary awareness comes

as an unexpected visitor.

Welcome and entertain them all!

Even if they are a crowd of sorrows,

who violently sweep your house

empty of its furniture

still, treat each guest honorably.

He may be clearing you out

for some new delight.

The dark thought, the shame, the malice,

meet them at the door laughing and invite them in.

Be grateful for whatever comes,

because each has been sent

as a guide from beyond.

-Jelaluddin Rumi,

translation by Coleman Barks