My fingers tap at the keyboard. I sit with friend's handmade blanket wrapped about and the laptop rests upon the soft yarn. I opened up to find discovery tonight - to see if i open up the cognitive senses, if something will take place or transpire into a significant or noteworthy marker in this ticking clock spectrum.
There is a rhythm to my writing - i am not sure i understand how it works or how it comes across as something real. There is mandolin symphony playing and singing softly - filling in this rhythm with it's cadence.
I have had a desire to fill my life. Of course, I will grow old and gray and say things like, "I could have been this." "I wish I was that." It is hard to live the life of a Pessimist. "I could have been a whistle, I could have been a flute. I real life giver, could have been a boot.' I think i like to say at the end of the day that i tried my best to be something....but then measure to those about and insignificance comes along side and cozies right in.
So, even though my life is in full swing of transition at the moment, i can sit in response and say i am fulfilled; but I am always looking for more. If I swam the English Channel, I would measure myself up against the others who did the same; instead of basking in the flow of placement. I am not sure where this comes from. Trying to find moments.
Sitting on the couch, music playing, SNL in the background, and no worries and yet I still try to measure up. I like to keep my issues close at hand. I think i need to go out and dance; get lost within the drone - - but for now, i shall simply go and rest my head and be thankful.
Thanks for listening.
Saturday, November 19, 2011
Wednesday, November 16, 2011
Russian Federation
Hello! This is the only way i know how to post to you. I am curious about the person who visits my blog from the Russian Federation as well as Moscow. Can you let me know who you are? I love seeing that you come to visit, i would like to know more about you.
Thank you,
Katie
Thank you,
Katie
Words
Dependence....Reliance.... Trust....Confidence.....Expectation.......Support....Responsibility
I take in these words, write them down, concentrate upon them and reflect in the significance of each. I hesitate in each meaning and wonder in responsibility. This blog is turning into something else. It is becoming a place for me to place my heart for a few minutes before I collect it and put it back in its place. A decision to shed the awareness of thought within my present and understanding....feeling an established and guided placement of direction.
But question. Always in question.
How much do you give of yourself?
When does giving become harmful?
If you don't feel compromised, but see question in the eyes of others, do you mark their worth?
When should you let others be and when should you step in for their lack thereof?
Is Doing Your Best....actually, doing your best?
Is it detrimental to follow your heart?
There are many days when my calendar dictates the care of two active families. This has become a part of me; a true part of who I am, even how I define myself from time to time. How decisions are made. I am following the tide that God has allowed for me and smile when i actively see transition. But I have to take in those momentary breathes of pause, sit, be still and question.
Coldplay Song --- playing it over and over again http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=JI-o25K6B-E&ob=av2e
When you try your best but you don't succeed
When you get what you want but not what you need
When you feel so tired but you can't sleep
Stuck in reverse
And the tears come streaming down your face
When you lose something you can't replace
When you love someone but it goes to waste
Could it be worse?
Lights will guide you home
And ignite your bones
And I will try to fix you
And high up above or down below
When you're too in love to let it go
But if you never try you'll never know
Just what you're worth
Lights will guide you home
And ignite your bones
And I will try to fix you
Tears stream down your face
When you lose something you cannot replace
Tears stream down your face
And I
Tears stream down your face
I promise you I will learn from my mistakes
Tears stream down your face
And I
Lights will guide you home
And ignite your bones And I will try to fix you
8 Months - Today...it has been 8 months
She has experienced those days that give her a glimpse of what light shining on her really feels like. She laughs in this light and it brings a lilt to her step – but then, without notice, the door slams in her face and she is lost in the darkness once again. There is little to feed her when this happens, but she is faithful and looks for that light to come again. She knows it will; but the endurance at times is unbearable. But…it is there.
In 8 months, she has had to change and move on without David – as much as she has hesitated, regretted or felt powerless in the process. She has allowed me to come into her life in a way that would never be allowed before; this has been a very conscious choice for only her David has been closer. She holds 2 jobs and conquers a ‘Things to Do’ list that never would hold such urgency 8 months ago – but this list keeps her mind busy and her body from crumbling.
I wonder….if David walked through his front door today, would he even recognize this wife of his; this woman who is in constant redefinition. She has phenomenal strength and exceptional tenacity that provide an unmatched strength to her children. She proves to her children strength beyond measure, a muscle, a force, a potency.
In 8 months, she has not compromised the ideals and values of her family. As difficult as it has been, she has lead a life of grace and integrity and has been determined to not be compromised. At times, she feels embarrassed to the grieving widow. People do not know how to approach her, grieve with her, or walk along the path of this journey.
In 8 months, she has surpassed her grieving peers. When comparing to others within this time continuum, she is leaps and bounds above where they are at - and yet, those around are often perplexed that she is not 'moved on.' I sometimes tell her that she is climbing Mt. Everest and passing those around her without an even wearing an oxygen tank.
She amazes me, astonishes me and surprises me. More people should have the privilege of knowing her.
Those questions will always come and creep up on me when I least expect them. I look for answers, but at the end of the day, turn to my blog and write.
Thanks for listening.
I take in these words, write them down, concentrate upon them and reflect in the significance of each. I hesitate in each meaning and wonder in responsibility. This blog is turning into something else. It is becoming a place for me to place my heart for a few minutes before I collect it and put it back in its place. A decision to shed the awareness of thought within my present and understanding....feeling an established and guided placement of direction.
But question. Always in question.
How much do you give of yourself?
When does giving become harmful?
If you don't feel compromised, but see question in the eyes of others, do you mark their worth?
When should you let others be and when should you step in for their lack thereof?
Is Doing Your Best....actually, doing your best?
Is it detrimental to follow your heart?
There are many days when my calendar dictates the care of two active families. This has become a part of me; a true part of who I am, even how I define myself from time to time. How decisions are made. I am following the tide that God has allowed for me and smile when i actively see transition. But I have to take in those momentary breathes of pause, sit, be still and question.
Coldplay Song --- playing it over and over again http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=JI-o25K6B-E&ob=av2e
When you try your best but you don't succeed
When you get what you want but not what you need
When you feel so tired but you can't sleep
Stuck in reverse
And the tears come streaming down your face
When you lose something you can't replace
When you love someone but it goes to waste
Could it be worse?
Lights will guide you home
And ignite your bones
And I will try to fix you
And high up above or down below
When you're too in love to let it go
But if you never try you'll never know
Just what you're worth
Lights will guide you home
And ignite your bones
And I will try to fix you
Tears stream down your face
When you lose something you cannot replace
Tears stream down your face
And I
Tears stream down your face
I promise you I will learn from my mistakes
Tears stream down your face
And I
Lights will guide you home
And ignite your bones And I will try to fix you
8 Months - Today...it has been 8 months
She has experienced those days that give her a glimpse of what light shining on her really feels like. She laughs in this light and it brings a lilt to her step – but then, without notice, the door slams in her face and she is lost in the darkness once again. There is little to feed her when this happens, but she is faithful and looks for that light to come again. She knows it will; but the endurance at times is unbearable. But…it is there.
In 8 months, she has had to change and move on without David – as much as she has hesitated, regretted or felt powerless in the process. She has allowed me to come into her life in a way that would never be allowed before; this has been a very conscious choice for only her David has been closer. She holds 2 jobs and conquers a ‘Things to Do’ list that never would hold such urgency 8 months ago – but this list keeps her mind busy and her body from crumbling.
I wonder….if David walked through his front door today, would he even recognize this wife of his; this woman who is in constant redefinition. She has phenomenal strength and exceptional tenacity that provide an unmatched strength to her children. She proves to her children strength beyond measure, a muscle, a force, a potency.
In 8 months, she has not compromised the ideals and values of her family. As difficult as it has been, she has lead a life of grace and integrity and has been determined to not be compromised. At times, she feels embarrassed to the grieving widow. People do not know how to approach her, grieve with her, or walk along the path of this journey.
In 8 months, she has surpassed her grieving peers. When comparing to others within this time continuum, she is leaps and bounds above where they are at - and yet, those around are often perplexed that she is not 'moved on.' I sometimes tell her that she is climbing Mt. Everest and passing those around her without an even wearing an oxygen tank.
She amazes me, astonishes me and surprises me. More people should have the privilege of knowing her.
Those questions will always come and creep up on me when I least expect them. I look for answers, but at the end of the day, turn to my blog and write.
Thanks for listening.
Friday, October 7, 2011
The Here and Now
Well, there it is. This is the visual of what was a thought, a guffaw, a moment of impossibility....there it sits.
15 days .... i am operating within crushed minutes of the here and now. I am operating with lengthy lists, cell phone check offs, scrap paper doodles and a pile of hope that lays at peace behind my sun room couches...soon to take space on a table to be auctioned off.
The toddler is asleep, the kitchen is finally cleaned of all its stickiness and taunting , the music is on and I have an hour and a half of focused planning time. SO, there it is. The power of Be. The power of Maybe. The power of, MAN, What in the WORLD was I thinking???50 plus items...hardly a dent in the Silent Auction venue. I feel defeated - knowing that if i had a committee or assistance, or a "how can I help?" or "what can I do?" it would be so much better.
When i hand Joy over the $45.20 check after all is said and done - she and I will go spend it on dinner somewhere; taking in deep breathes, laughing at the experience and nodding our heads in agreement. I gave it my best. It might have amounted to absolutely nothing, but I gave it my best.
There it is.
Aside: last week, i went out with a friend of mine whom i had not seen in about a years time. Around 'dessert" time, she asked for an update on 'that friend of yours who's husband died...." Before we left the table that evening - two cups of coffee later....we had notes written, a things to do list drafted up, a 'committee' of 1 that was willing to take on any odd job i threw her way. I was in tears, quietly telling her, Thank you, thank you, thank you. To see my work added and given direction and new eyes was everything i could ask for. She has since called twice - crossing off items on her list and wondering what else her 'committee' can take on. I am blessed by this. Overwhelmed. And didn't realize the strength and empowerment of a committee of one
Saturday, September 17, 2011
3:20
there is no title to this blog and it will be a quick - type, get the thoughts out and hit enter. Sidney is waking up and my time of respite has come to an end.
latley, I have been mandating that I take in periods of rest. I have actually napped in the past two days - but that may be because i am getting to bed by 1pm and up at 6:30. I am not sure. But, I am in absolute need of moments of unscheduled nothing. I am not sure if this is good or not. When I nap, i wake up tired, anyway. When i 'schedule nothing' - i find myself surfing the web. lately, i have been reading other people's blogs. If you go to the top of my blog, you hit "Next Blog" and that is what i have been doing.
It has given me introspection of where people are at and where i once was. Lately, the randomness of design has led me to blogs of younger mothers. Mothers in their early 20's who have chosen to stay at home. I once was one of these mothers -- three car seats in the back of a van - doing preschool runs, volunteering for fingerpainting days, making crafts at home...well, my crafts always had a comedic outtake becuase i do not do crafts and they came out lopsided, burnt, or on the verge of collapse.
I sit here now - closer to turning 44 than 43. My life has been heavy laden as of late. I am not that young mother who has those moments of free spiritness to share with the world about the cuteness of her days.
I have a 14 year old boy who is on the absolute edge of taking off and flying solo. There is nothing innocent about this. He is under a constant watch and more than anybody, he gets my discussions on life, decisions, consequences of action, future outlooks, innocence and excitment. I am purposely allowing him to fill his days with goodness and saying "yes" quite a bit more than "no." The ties between us are growing stronger as he strengthens the distance between mother and son.
I have a 12 year old who is taking an incredible and challenging plunge into his own life. i am right there with him, but no longer am i holding his hand and leading --- but simply watching him go.....He wants to so much be independent and the challenge is just that. He is not ready. The navigation of our days is always in question and one false move will bring us back to the beginning.
I have a 10 year old girl who is in great need of validation. she too is marking her ground - but her voice has become quieter and her moments of wanting to be by herself are more frequent. So, as a parent - i can wish for those days of baby time. Singing, playing, rocking, laughing, attatching to one thing or the next - but my job has shifted and I am the mother of three very independent, unique and on the go kids.
It is intense and noting to share lightly. The blessing is that with age and understanding, the conversations are far more rewarding. I *am* enjoying this life of mine, i am enjoying these moments and do not take them for granted, i just envy a bit that brownie making mom at times.
I read those blogs of younger mothers and it seems like an ideal world. My blogs are no longer rainbow colored - but then again....this is not the time.
I have a 2 year old boy who for all intense and purpose, is also transitioning. Soon, i will write about him and the songs we are learning and his cute first picture of preschool or his playdate arrangements with friends. Now, we are getting reaquanted with one another. His days are new. it is just mommy in the house and he is finding a voice. A very loud voice, might I add. But those roll on the carpet times are back with uninterrupted hours.
I am in grief. Each day, I am taking on a very large load of nothing but what grief looks like. I have mentioned in the past - this is all good. it is, but the reality of it plays the toll on who i am and my outlook. By the time i get to write in my blog, i have already spent the day with a 14 year old teen (and most likely friends), 12 year old angst, 10 year old in transistion and an all day 2 year old. I have scattered that day with writings, and research of grief and nothing but grief and being there to comfort and encourage a friend....and whatever it takes out of me, I am still in it. I have said in the past, perhaps I, oneday, will seek out my own grief counselor.
I apologize for the heaviness of my posts, but i am here. I am an almost 44 year old busy mother of 4. My children wear dirty, wrinkled clothing. The boys smell 75% of the time. They no longer brush their hair and I would think twice having them pose for an impromtu family photo. We are living life the best we know how.
I know i do not need to justify myself in my personal blog. it is mine and it captures my feelings of the day - i just find the irony of being in such a different place than the blogs that I have somehow stumbled upon. Innocent, and "Awww" in response.
Am I a negative person? I dont' think so. Am I in one of the hardest and most significant places in my life at this time? Absolutely.
I am hitting enter now.
latley, I have been mandating that I take in periods of rest. I have actually napped in the past two days - but that may be because i am getting to bed by 1pm and up at 6:30. I am not sure. But, I am in absolute need of moments of unscheduled nothing. I am not sure if this is good or not. When I nap, i wake up tired, anyway. When i 'schedule nothing' - i find myself surfing the web. lately, i have been reading other people's blogs. If you go to the top of my blog, you hit "Next Blog" and that is what i have been doing.
It has given me introspection of where people are at and where i once was. Lately, the randomness of design has led me to blogs of younger mothers. Mothers in their early 20's who have chosen to stay at home. I once was one of these mothers -- three car seats in the back of a van - doing preschool runs, volunteering for fingerpainting days, making crafts at home...well, my crafts always had a comedic outtake becuase i do not do crafts and they came out lopsided, burnt, or on the verge of collapse.
I sit here now - closer to turning 44 than 43. My life has been heavy laden as of late. I am not that young mother who has those moments of free spiritness to share with the world about the cuteness of her days.
I have a 14 year old boy who is on the absolute edge of taking off and flying solo. There is nothing innocent about this. He is under a constant watch and more than anybody, he gets my discussions on life, decisions, consequences of action, future outlooks, innocence and excitment. I am purposely allowing him to fill his days with goodness and saying "yes" quite a bit more than "no." The ties between us are growing stronger as he strengthens the distance between mother and son.
I have a 12 year old who is taking an incredible and challenging plunge into his own life. i am right there with him, but no longer am i holding his hand and leading --- but simply watching him go.....He wants to so much be independent and the challenge is just that. He is not ready. The navigation of our days is always in question and one false move will bring us back to the beginning.
I have a 10 year old girl who is in great need of validation. she too is marking her ground - but her voice has become quieter and her moments of wanting to be by herself are more frequent. So, as a parent - i can wish for those days of baby time. Singing, playing, rocking, laughing, attatching to one thing or the next - but my job has shifted and I am the mother of three very independent, unique and on the go kids.
It is intense and noting to share lightly. The blessing is that with age and understanding, the conversations are far more rewarding. I *am* enjoying this life of mine, i am enjoying these moments and do not take them for granted, i just envy a bit that brownie making mom at times.
I read those blogs of younger mothers and it seems like an ideal world. My blogs are no longer rainbow colored - but then again....this is not the time.
I have a 2 year old boy who for all intense and purpose, is also transitioning. Soon, i will write about him and the songs we are learning and his cute first picture of preschool or his playdate arrangements with friends. Now, we are getting reaquanted with one another. His days are new. it is just mommy in the house and he is finding a voice. A very loud voice, might I add. But those roll on the carpet times are back with uninterrupted hours.
I am in grief. Each day, I am taking on a very large load of nothing but what grief looks like. I have mentioned in the past - this is all good. it is, but the reality of it plays the toll on who i am and my outlook. By the time i get to write in my blog, i have already spent the day with a 14 year old teen (and most likely friends), 12 year old angst, 10 year old in transistion and an all day 2 year old. I have scattered that day with writings, and research of grief and nothing but grief and being there to comfort and encourage a friend....and whatever it takes out of me, I am still in it. I have said in the past, perhaps I, oneday, will seek out my own grief counselor.
I apologize for the heaviness of my posts, but i am here. I am an almost 44 year old busy mother of 4. My children wear dirty, wrinkled clothing. The boys smell 75% of the time. They no longer brush their hair and I would think twice having them pose for an impromtu family photo. We are living life the best we know how.
I know i do not need to justify myself in my personal blog. it is mine and it captures my feelings of the day - i just find the irony of being in such a different place than the blogs that I have somehow stumbled upon. Innocent, and "Awww" in response.
Am I a negative person? I dont' think so. Am I in one of the hardest and most significant places in my life at this time? Absolutely.
I am hitting enter now.
Tuesday, September 13, 2011
Point of Discussion
I have an assignment to analyze this story and come up with something significant. I will let you know when it happens.
http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=XtnG37texEI
The Crow and the Pitcher
http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=XtnG37texEI
The Crow and the Pitcher
Sunday, September 11, 2011
September
September is in the air. As soon as it appeared - i knew that transistion this year would be the most significant in quite some time.
Today, the kids play outside across the street in a pool of water. This is no longer something to look forward to, but a siezing of the day. Sweaters, jeans, scarves, hats, and soon to be mittens, jackets, boots and sleds. The children in bathing suits, the ones laying upon the grass with eyes closed in the sun's rays will soon be rolling snow balls, creating snowmen, snowforts and coming in wet, red nosed and asking for hot chocolate.
Transistion
I am not one to accept transition well. I need to have control over almost everything that is thrown my way. If i could mark transistion on the calendar, I would.
So, i ease into it. I prepare slowly. I educate myself with resources and I plan.
The loud music plays on the driveway as my oldest has rigged up two more speakers to continue in the flair of his life.He *is* transition. I would like to say i envy this about him, but i do not. I believe he will always be a fly by the seat of your pants guy. The party will always be at Perry's Place.
I wanted to sit down and write, but with the windows open, my mind on 9/11, my attention to the little bodies outside in play, it just isn't coming.
I am in need of transition. I am in need of placement. I am turning that page and it is blank - welcoming me to fill it. Next September, I will look back on today and reflect on how i did it. How did i step into something i knew nothing about. How did i transpire in that past year without a plan in place.
Today marks my first day.
Thank you for listening.
Today, the kids play outside across the street in a pool of water. This is no longer something to look forward to, but a siezing of the day. Sweaters, jeans, scarves, hats, and soon to be mittens, jackets, boots and sleds. The children in bathing suits, the ones laying upon the grass with eyes closed in the sun's rays will soon be rolling snow balls, creating snowmen, snowforts and coming in wet, red nosed and asking for hot chocolate.
Transistion
I am not one to accept transition well. I need to have control over almost everything that is thrown my way. If i could mark transistion on the calendar, I would.
So, i ease into it. I prepare slowly. I educate myself with resources and I plan.
The loud music plays on the driveway as my oldest has rigged up two more speakers to continue in the flair of his life.He *is* transition. I would like to say i envy this about him, but i do not. I believe he will always be a fly by the seat of your pants guy. The party will always be at Perry's Place.
I wanted to sit down and write, but with the windows open, my mind on 9/11, my attention to the little bodies outside in play, it just isn't coming.
I am in need of transition. I am in need of placement. I am turning that page and it is blank - welcoming me to fill it. Next September, I will look back on today and reflect on how i did it. How did i step into something i knew nothing about. How did i transpire in that past year without a plan in place.
Today marks my first day.
Thank you for listening.
Thursday, September 8, 2011
6 Months
There are too many metaphors to speak of in these past 6 months. Too many inside jokes that have been formed simply to mark a moment in the day. Each building atop of the next ..blanketed in strength.
what does 6 months mean? I'm not sure. I am in the trenches. I am protective. I am fighting a fight. I am not letting go. I am.... I am ....not sure.
I am confused. I am disappointed. I am perplexed. I am frustrated. I am hesitant. I am troubled. I am questionable. I am disgusted. I am tired. I am exhausted. I am striving. I am lost. I am emotional. I am fragile. I am weakened. I am on my knees. I am weary. I am struggling.
I am isolated.
I am......
I am honored. I am fulfilled. I am rewarded. I am energized. I am at peace. I am pulling. I am pushing. I am guiding. I am listening. I am reaching out. I am sacrificing. I am here. I am still. I am active. I am bold. I am brazen. I am directive. I am leading. I am following. I am quiet. I am loud. I am silent. I am present. I am hopeful. I am confident. I am trust. I am love. I am loyal. I am laughter. I am strength.
I am.....
I am perseverance
These past (soon to be) six months have not been all encompassing. I feel i share in this life as I would a newborn child. A being that takes up all time; but the capacity to love, thrive and continue with all additional aspects of one's life are all still there and available. It is when I stop or I slow down - (and for those of you who truly know me, you know that my physical body is always on the move) that I am able to give complete concentration to my day and this 6 month old experience takes hold. I've often thought of seeking out my own grief counselor. Wouldn't *that* look funny.
I have told her that one day, she and I will be on a book tour circuit. She will be the voice of reason and eloquently speak of her days gone by. I will be to her right, with my fancy pen, signing the covers of my first book, "Scrambled Eggs and Wrinkle Cream"
Thanks for listening
what does 6 months mean? I'm not sure. I am in the trenches. I am protective. I am fighting a fight. I am not letting go. I am.... I am ....not sure.
I am confused. I am disappointed. I am perplexed. I am frustrated. I am hesitant. I am troubled. I am questionable. I am disgusted. I am tired. I am exhausted. I am striving. I am lost. I am emotional. I am fragile. I am weakened. I am on my knees. I am weary. I am struggling.
I am isolated.
I am......
I am honored. I am fulfilled. I am rewarded. I am energized. I am at peace. I am pulling. I am pushing. I am guiding. I am listening. I am reaching out. I am sacrificing. I am here. I am still. I am active. I am bold. I am brazen. I am directive. I am leading. I am following. I am quiet. I am loud. I am silent. I am present. I am hopeful. I am confident. I am trust. I am love. I am loyal. I am laughter. I am strength.
I am.....
I am perseverance
These past (soon to be) six months have not been all encompassing. I feel i share in this life as I would a newborn child. A being that takes up all time; but the capacity to love, thrive and continue with all additional aspects of one's life are all still there and available. It is when I stop or I slow down - (and for those of you who truly know me, you know that my physical body is always on the move) that I am able to give complete concentration to my day and this 6 month old experience takes hold. I've often thought of seeking out my own grief counselor. Wouldn't *that* look funny.
I have told her that one day, she and I will be on a book tour circuit. She will be the voice of reason and eloquently speak of her days gone by. I will be to her right, with my fancy pen, signing the covers of my first book, "Scrambled Eggs and Wrinkle Cream"
Thanks for listening
Sunday, August 21, 2011
Life #18
Today, I received an email from Shannon. My best friend during the high school years. She announces that at the age of 43, she is now expecting her 5th child.
Communication with the other is a blink here, a speck of dust there. It is not uncommon for a significant life event to be shared via email.
I paused in reading and let the flood of memory soothe over. It took but a second, but years shared with this friend took hold of me and left me yearning for a bit of yesteryear.
10 years ago, i found myself in a writing class in downtown Minneapolis. Spontaneous writing moments were quick and an exercise in fluidity of thought. Tonight, while looking for an entirely different document - one that is relevant to my present day, I found an old writing assignment that I wrote in class. We were to reflect on a life moment that brought significance to the present. At the time, I had 3 babies at home and knowing they would one day grow up and explore their own adventurous exploits, I wrote one of mine.
….
----
The Mission Impossible theme resonates loudly in my head. You know what I'm talking about, the one with the opening montage when the wick is lit and swiftly moves across the screen....The drum sound that mimics the frantic beat of a heart?
Delicate footwork finds us on the roof of my car. Black on black outfits set the tone for the objective. Wrench in hand, hammer in pocket; we approach the goal in silence.
Shannon and I soon get accustomed to jumping off the car and laying down flat when headlights come within line of vision. But, determination reigns supreme. Back on roof.
“Okay, I’ve assessed the situation and I think we can get it this time.” And sounding like any professional surgeon on the job, “Nurse, vise grip.”
“Police car. Jump!” Shannon shouts. And that is exactly what we do. We land on the wet grass and huddle close by the side of the passenger door. The car passes, we compose ourselves and we proceed.
Remember, we are on a mission and there is a job to be done. We will not rest easily with defeat. We have trained long and hard for this to fall through the cracks....well, that's a lie. But it sounds impressive and important.
Back on hood, over windshield, eventually on roof. A horn honks, a dog barks, a porch light flashes on – then off. Shannon’s demands of quickening the pace are muffled by the looming thunder. We look around cautiously. During that midnight hour, all is quiet except for the hissing of spinning wheels on wet pavement. Our breaths are quick and fast. Deep breath in and out. Mission accomplished!
The open trunk of my car dictates the use of side streets. We press our lips to the aluminum rims of the coca-cola cans. Our sweaty palms greet each other in a celebratory high five. We discuss where in her room the green and white Shannon Boulevard sign we just unhinged from the neighborhood street will find it’s refuge; above the trendy Mickey Mouse push button phone or next to the Jake Ryan, Sixteen Candles heartthrob movie poster.
Communication with the other is a blink here, a speck of dust there. It is not uncommon for a significant life event to be shared via email.
I paused in reading and let the flood of memory soothe over. It took but a second, but years shared with this friend took hold of me and left me yearning for a bit of yesteryear.
10 years ago, i found myself in a writing class in downtown Minneapolis. Spontaneous writing moments were quick and an exercise in fluidity of thought. Tonight, while looking for an entirely different document - one that is relevant to my present day, I found an old writing assignment that I wrote in class. We were to reflect on a life moment that brought significance to the present. At the time, I had 3 babies at home and knowing they would one day grow up and explore their own adventurous exploits, I wrote one of mine.
….
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The Mission Impossible theme resonates loudly in my head. You know what I'm talking about, the one with the opening montage when the wick is lit and swiftly moves across the screen....The drum sound that mimics the frantic beat of a heart?
Delicate footwork finds us on the roof of my car. Black on black outfits set the tone for the objective. Wrench in hand, hammer in pocket; we approach the goal in silence.
Shannon and I soon get accustomed to jumping off the car and laying down flat when headlights come within line of vision. But, determination reigns supreme. Back on roof.
“Okay, I’ve assessed the situation and I think we can get it this time.” And sounding like any professional surgeon on the job, “Nurse, vise grip.”
“Police car. Jump!” Shannon shouts. And that is exactly what we do. We land on the wet grass and huddle close by the side of the passenger door. The car passes, we compose ourselves and we proceed.
Remember, we are on a mission and there is a job to be done. We will not rest easily with defeat. We have trained long and hard for this to fall through the cracks....well, that's a lie. But it sounds impressive and important.
Back on hood, over windshield, eventually on roof. A horn honks, a dog barks, a porch light flashes on – then off. Shannon’s demands of quickening the pace are muffled by the looming thunder. We look around cautiously. During that midnight hour, all is quiet except for the hissing of spinning wheels on wet pavement. Our breaths are quick and fast. Deep breath in and out. Mission accomplished!
The open trunk of my car dictates the use of side streets. We press our lips to the aluminum rims of the coca-cola cans. Our sweaty palms greet each other in a celebratory high five. We discuss where in her room the green and white Shannon Boulevard sign we just unhinged from the neighborhood street will find it’s refuge; above the trendy Mickey Mouse push button phone or next to the Jake Ryan, Sixteen Candles heartthrob movie poster.
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