...a garden.

Bernadette and Gail make me feel warm all over. They have the garden plots on either side of ours. I haven't been there at all this summer. It's David's garden. Farmer Dave.

They introduce themselves in a peaceful and non threatening way. "You must be David's wife. I'm Bernadette."

They say kind things and they don't even know me.

"How are you feeling?"

"David said you were under the weather"

"This barrel has more water"

"Don't strain yourself."

I looked over at the bench and garden table at the side of the plots under the tree. There is a mason jar half full of coffee with cream. And a couple of mugs. There are other people at the garden but I know this is theirs. They have set up home.

Their gardens are beautiful. They are harvesting lettuce and peas.

Our garden is sad. Rabbits ate the onion tops and I've kept David from the garden when he should have been planting and tending.

"Your garden will take off" Gail says. "You'll have tomatoes and squash."

She's too kind.

I wonder if they have pickles or buttered toast to have with their coffee.

"You look like no more than a student yourself" Gail says. I blush and laugh. I don't know what to say. I always know what to say. But it's peaceful. And slow and no answer seems needed.

I fill my watering can half way each time and walk slowly back and forth to our small plot. Swinging the can. The water sloshes. I try to decide where to water and where to walk. I'm in no rush. The sisters are in no rush.

There are teens with their dogs in the abandoned tennis courts across from the garden. They are peaceful. Happy. Quiet even.

Bernadette is smoking and pouring herself a coffee from the mason jar. Gail joins her. They are both wearing straw hats and denim shirts. I don't want to leave but I'm done watering. I can't stretch it out any longer. I turn and wave and call out "goodnight".

There's a lone hat on the picnic table in the park. The swings are still.

Someone will claim it tomorrow. When the park comes alive. When the children with their Popsicle sticky hands and wide eyes and unabashed friend making prowess descend on this place again.

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...a snow storm.

Some days are quite simply much harder than others. Kind of like a swirling vortex of shit really. All the little things that you can normally deal with effortlessly all fly into your path at once and your capacity to cope is tested to its limits or beyond.

Yep. Today was one of those days. No major obstacles. Nothing earth shattering. Just a shit storm. Cause you know, a few snowflakes at a time are magical, but billions upon billions can bring a city to its knees. We had a real life blizzard here yesterday and I followed it up with my own metaphysical one today.

In the quiet of the waning evening of yesterday's blizzard I looked out my window to see the moonlight reflected off the snowbanks like billions of tiny diamonds. The branches of every tree enrobed in crystalline white. The quiet and stillness so profound. It was breathtaking. And in the quiet waning evening of my shit storm today my sweet nine year old squeezed me tight around the waist and told me how incredible I am. How there is no other mother on earth as fine as me. And on my outward breath I could see the diamonds in her eyes. I could see that the day long tantrums of my exasperating three year old were simply billions of synapses firing and that the beauty of that growth was revealing itself. I could see that the swirling vortex of all the people in our lives are
small blessings that serve to make our existence richer. And I was able to sit down and have a great conversation with my kiddo about the finite nature of patience.

And now all that's left is to curl up in the arms of my partner and remind ourselves why we chose to weather this storm together.


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...a leap.

Today seems like an appropriate day to be back here. Leap Day. The day we catch up. Make up for the imperfection of our calendar. The day we rectify our calculational deficiencies.

Today was to be significant in another way. Today I was hoping to be given part of my life back. To catch up... To leap. Today I had a date with Glen Sather. Or more specifically I had an appointment at the Glen Sather sports medicine clinic. I was hoping to get the news that I would be cleared for "combat". I wasn't. Four and a half months ago I suffered a temporarily crippling knee injury at roller derby practice (that's right - I'm a derby girl and that is another post all together). For weeks I hobbled around, I couldn't drive my standard car because it was my clutch leg and my knee had lost all bendiness, I barely slept because it hurt in every position and I watched my fellow fresh meat skaters pass their skills test and leave me in their dust. It was tough, scary and yet I found my way. Physio 3 times a week, ice, heat, ice, strengthening exercises, ice, doctors, MRIs, x-rays, ice... Its a new road. I have never been an athlete and figuring this shit out at 39 with two small children has been challenging. Some days all I wanted to do was kneel down to help my baby put her boots on. To be at her eye level and kiss her face. I found patience that I didn't know I had and a resolve that was reignited. And today I walked into that exam room with in my striped knee socks and taped up knee, holding the hand of my miniature moral support in a bumblebee back pack. All I wanted to hear was YES. YES, go hit those bitches. The answer I walked away with was not so affirmative and the statute of limitations on my patience has run out.

...abundant love.

These two girls of mine know love. It's all I've ever wanted them to be sure of. That they are vessels of abundant love. That they are conductors of abundant love. That they are abundantly loved.

And between them is an intensity of love for each other so electric that it could light a small town. Blows my mind every day.






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...restoration.

Today I believe that sickness came to our house solely for the purpose of slowing us down. It took me a few days to figure it out, but oh how it was worth it. The fresh air seems to be the only remedy for Lola's croupy cough and after a long morning nap on daddy's chest she was ready to breath the fresh air deeply. She told me so by screaming at the top of her lungs and throwing herself on the floor. I don't know if she knew what she was asking for at the time. It was what we needed though.





















Our return home was perfectly timed as the sprinkles began to fall from the heavens and nourish the earth we walked upon.


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...a thaw.

And so I break the silence. The end of a long, cold winter. I feel the warmth returning to my bones. Bare feet on concrete. Baths to wash off the filth of a day outside. Freedom.

Lola begs to be outside all the time. Despite the brutal winds this spring. Despite the helicopter sized mosquitos. She just wants to walk and walk and walk. Her hunger to expand her world is so desperate. Stopping to point out random cars and dogs and kids. Crouching to inspect an ant hill and trying to pet the ants. Grinning and squealing as she shuffles down the walk on her toddler bow-legs. Stilted and reckless.

It feels good to be back here.


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...an off beat rhythm.

I've never liked the idea of having a "routine" or following a "schedule". Perhaps it is just a function of my desire to be non-conforming. And maybe it's just that it doesn't feel quite right for me. Over the last few years I have found the phrase "rhythm of my life" falling seamlessly into my vocabulary. Rhythm. That is the word that sits so nicely in my bones. It implies that there is a certain ebb and flow in any given moment and yet the tempo can change and the dance can continue. It allows for the many energies that make up my family to create one dynamic rhythm that we can all groove on.

There are frequently days on end when our family has fallen out of rhythm. It's like listening to the static between radio stations. It often happens when we are all moving too quickly to stop and tune us back in. But it never feels like we have failed to maintain a "routine" or follow a "schedule". It just means we have to fine tune. And that removes the intellectual analysis of how our lives are functioning. It's a feeling, a balance, a gut reaction, an intuitive sense of what is needed in the present moment.

In this moment, right now, I am feeling a little off beat. My Rx for that? Immersion. Complete and total immersion in my family. Face to face, side by side, orbiting around each other. A couple of days is ideal but often a small portion of an hour creates a harmony that can carry us through the next up tempo frenzy of our lives. Tonight I will set our dinner table with an earthy and rich Indian stew. Warmth from a spicy homemade chutney balanced with a cool, tangy yogurt. And we will sit over this meal. Facing each other while we tune out the world and tune into each other.

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