I didn't get to watch this in real time. I was at work and didn't have access to a television. I have a computer but it doesn't have working speakers (my work one anyway!) so I could have seen them mouth their oaths but that would have been sort of weird. So I listened when my wife called me with tears in her voice still. She told me how those tears ran freely down her face as she watched, how she and our boys stood silently and watched as this new president took his oath.
I watched recaps of as much as I could when I got home. Images have swirled in my mind ever since. It has been hard to have them coalesce into anything that makes sense. It is like the fractured bits of pictures that one sees when looking through a kalaidoscope. Something beautiful, something magical, but hard to explain.
One of those swirling picture bits was all the flags waving as 2 million people stood joyfully in the cold to celebrate this day. To be present and to witness. To be part of history, tradition and also change. 2 million people so moved, so present that there was not a single arrest. I can't wrap my mind around that. I live in a city of 46000 and we have arrests at every large public gathering. But there was not one there that day. To me, there was something so hopeful and so positive about 2 million people bringing their best selves there that day.
Another was an image of energy. I know the key word there is probably image. And there is no guarantee that an image is truly reality. But I was struck by the energy, enthusiasm and joyful demeanor of the Obama family. All of them seemed unafraid to just be themselves. To smile and wave. Not the little bored waves that one typically sees. Just all out, "hey there how are you" waves. And smiles so big that no one was thinking "does this look nice for the cameras."
I am glad that I live in a country where change could happen without bullets. Without the kind of desparate fighting that say, brought an end to apartheid in S. Africa. I was proud that for this one moment in time, we truly did transcend race. We voted beliefs. I didn't vote for Obama because he was a black man. I voted for him because I felt his platform, while not fully attainable made sense to me. And I voted against John McCain because he indicated a willingness to support a draft and I am a mother of 3 boys. I don't want my boys drafted into wars that only make sense to oil markets. I become incensed everytime I hear a newscaster tell of another young person who has died "to protect the USA." Died to protect the interests of the USA perhaps. But not the people. I truly believe we are not in a situation where that kind of risk is upon us, or if it is, that we are safer because of this response.
The image of our new President with his hand on the Lincoln Bible will stay with me always. As a parent I am always telling my children that they can be whatever they set their minds to. But to be fair to them, and to help them stay safe, I have had to teach them other things too. Things like DWB, things like how sometimes they have to be "better" than a white peer just to be viewed as "equal." But for that one prismatic moment in time, we didn't need any of those qualifiers to our life experience. We could revel in the moment, in the joy that our country does overwhelmingly want a change.
I hope the country is ready for the sacrifice that will be necessary to enact that change. But I have hope. Because if 2 million people could get along on January 20, 2009, well maybe anything is possible.
Thursday, January 22, 2009
Wednesday, January 21, 2009
Catching my breath
The weeks since vacation have been a whirlwind of activity for me at work. I knew it would be. I still wouldn't have done things differently. The long stretch of time with my family was a gift we all needed. But it did make for a rough return.
The office is always busy in January. Usually mundanities but things that take time. Changing files, removing old data. We have to save 3 yrs of stuff so there is this big shuffle of what to keep and what to consign to the lower depths. My company keeps talking about shredding old files pre-1990 but haven't done it yet. I have worked there since 78. Trust me, LOTS of files and lots of shuffling.
I need to complete a census of all residents for the city I live in. Time consuming since there are more than 300 apartments that I manage.
And this year, for reasons unknown to our staff, our regional mgr scheduled our annual audit by the local overseeing agency for January. It has been March for the 30 yrs I have worked there. This year, she thought January was nicer. Swell. There are tons of additional exhibits of paperwork that must be generated just to prepare for the auditors. My home office also decided it would be a nifty time for me to generate a spread sheet of data to prepare for a rent increase. I could feel my stress level rising as the month wore on.
Today was the audit day. 3 auditors descend on my office. 1 is nice. 2, well harder to read. They weren't nice last year when they essentially told me my files were not up to agency standard. I am an ultra organized Virgo type. That didn't sit well. What it boiled down to was overseeing federal agency had changed the regs on what should be in said files and had in its infinite wisdom failed to disseminate that information to field offices such as mine. Oh joy. So I have looked forward to this years visit with all the enthusiasm I would save for a doctor visit.
But things went well. I had obviously implemented all the new things they had discovered the previous year. They were happy. I was happy that they noticed that I had made the changes in a timely manner. Apparently afraid that I might become giddy with compliments, they waited till I had left the room before telling my office assistant that the files were "beautiful." Poor thing was horrified that they were telling her and said "but I told them you do the files!" Whatever.
It isn't that I want the accolades. But I know that future funding, and even the type of audits that we face, depend on getting the best scores possible. I don't know yet what our final score is, but it seems likely that we did very well. In my line of work this is far from our only audit. There is another one taking place at our main office right now. I have had to send files and data to them for this for weeks. And there are two other oversight reviews that can happen this year as well. But for now, I don't need to worry about that. I have survived this one and things are well. And that is enough.
The office is always busy in January. Usually mundanities but things that take time. Changing files, removing old data. We have to save 3 yrs of stuff so there is this big shuffle of what to keep and what to consign to the lower depths. My company keeps talking about shredding old files pre-1990 but haven't done it yet. I have worked there since 78. Trust me, LOTS of files and lots of shuffling.
I need to complete a census of all residents for the city I live in. Time consuming since there are more than 300 apartments that I manage.
And this year, for reasons unknown to our staff, our regional mgr scheduled our annual audit by the local overseeing agency for January. It has been March for the 30 yrs I have worked there. This year, she thought January was nicer. Swell. There are tons of additional exhibits of paperwork that must be generated just to prepare for the auditors. My home office also decided it would be a nifty time for me to generate a spread sheet of data to prepare for a rent increase. I could feel my stress level rising as the month wore on.
Today was the audit day. 3 auditors descend on my office. 1 is nice. 2, well harder to read. They weren't nice last year when they essentially told me my files were not up to agency standard. I am an ultra organized Virgo type. That didn't sit well. What it boiled down to was overseeing federal agency had changed the regs on what should be in said files and had in its infinite wisdom failed to disseminate that information to field offices such as mine. Oh joy. So I have looked forward to this years visit with all the enthusiasm I would save for a doctor visit.
But things went well. I had obviously implemented all the new things they had discovered the previous year. They were happy. I was happy that they noticed that I had made the changes in a timely manner. Apparently afraid that I might become giddy with compliments, they waited till I had left the room before telling my office assistant that the files were "beautiful." Poor thing was horrified that they were telling her and said "but I told them you do the files!" Whatever.
It isn't that I want the accolades. But I know that future funding, and even the type of audits that we face, depend on getting the best scores possible. I don't know yet what our final score is, but it seems likely that we did very well. In my line of work this is far from our only audit. There is another one taking place at our main office right now. I have had to send files and data to them for this for weeks. And there are two other oversight reviews that can happen this year as well. But for now, I don't need to worry about that. I have survived this one and things are well. And that is enough.
Sunday, January 18, 2009
Sunday snow
OK enough all ready! I woke this Sunday to that stillness that I know means it is snowing. I actually like that. Except that this is the second Sunday in a row. Last Sunday they cancelled childrens programming at church so I felt justified in staying home. This Sunday they didn't. And Rob's coming of Age class was scheduled to meet with mentors and talk about the pictures the kids chose as answers to their questions. Also KC and I were to pass out paper people at the back of the church as people entered the sanctuary as part of the Justice Sunday celebration. So I looked outside, decided it wasn't that bad out and optimistically set out with the boys. Lissa and Kirsty stayed home, wise women that they are.
We left at 8. We got to church an hour later. The trip normally takes 20 minutes. Needless to say, KC and I didn't pass out any paper people! Mostly the problem is that the roads just aren't plowed at 8 a.m. on Sunday morning. If we went to the 11 a.m. service I would have no issue getting there. But our service is at 9 so there you go.
As I inched along the barely plowed highway I had a litany of complaints and comments from my eldest. He handles his stress best by giving me more, (stress that is) usually as a result of constant chatter when I am trying to concentrate. I probably asked him 15 times to be quiet and listen to the radio and let me drive. He'd be quiet a minute or two and then pipe up again with some question of burning importance. "did the van have cruise control" Idiot that I am, I answer that yes it does. This engenders 15 more questions, starting with why am I not using it and going fromt there. Meanwhile I am wishing with all my heart and soul that I either a) had never left the house and/or my bed and b) if I had been compelled to do so, that I had taken the Metro so that I could at least be driving standard. I feel safer driving stick. Not so much braking when you can downshift. My car is standard, the van isn't. The van had gas. Mine didn't have much. Great planning Lee!
Still we made it there in one piece and all was good in the end. Rob's mentor chatted me up after church. He loves mentoring Rob and can see in Robbie the good things that I see in him. It is cool when others see the good in your kids. It doesn't bother him that Robbie is quiet and a young man of few words. What Rob says is from the heart and meaningful and that is all that matters to his mentor. That is so awesome.
And KC did well this week as well too. He was very proud of his contributions in class and couldn't wait to tell Kirsty all about it when we got home. Chet actually did well once we were there and has started to remember NOT to slam the church door open when he leaves. I've been working on that for 5 years now so man am I happy my diligence is starting to bear fruit! :-) With Chet, I have to have smaller goals. I honestly and sincerely have been working on this door thing for years. He likes to race up to the door, smash into the crash bar and wham the door open. I keep picturing some elderly person flying 1/2 across the parking lot as a result of the incredible force he feels compelled to use. Or the small child that becomes airborne and lands in the lake across the street. So every week I remind him. Sometimes I have to literally step in front of him and grab the door when I can tell he hasn't listened to me and processed the plan. But for a few weeks now, he has opened the door like anyone else in the world does. I don't know why it has taken years but if the seed has finally borne fruit, I am so very grateful.
We left at 8. We got to church an hour later. The trip normally takes 20 minutes. Needless to say, KC and I didn't pass out any paper people! Mostly the problem is that the roads just aren't plowed at 8 a.m. on Sunday morning. If we went to the 11 a.m. service I would have no issue getting there. But our service is at 9 so there you go.
As I inched along the barely plowed highway I had a litany of complaints and comments from my eldest. He handles his stress best by giving me more, (stress that is) usually as a result of constant chatter when I am trying to concentrate. I probably asked him 15 times to be quiet and listen to the radio and let me drive. He'd be quiet a minute or two and then pipe up again with some question of burning importance. "did the van have cruise control" Idiot that I am, I answer that yes it does. This engenders 15 more questions, starting with why am I not using it and going fromt there. Meanwhile I am wishing with all my heart and soul that I either a) had never left the house and/or my bed and b) if I had been compelled to do so, that I had taken the Metro so that I could at least be driving standard. I feel safer driving stick. Not so much braking when you can downshift. My car is standard, the van isn't. The van had gas. Mine didn't have much. Great planning Lee!
Still we made it there in one piece and all was good in the end. Rob's mentor chatted me up after church. He loves mentoring Rob and can see in Robbie the good things that I see in him. It is cool when others see the good in your kids. It doesn't bother him that Robbie is quiet and a young man of few words. What Rob says is from the heart and meaningful and that is all that matters to his mentor. That is so awesome.
And KC did well this week as well too. He was very proud of his contributions in class and couldn't wait to tell Kirsty all about it when we got home. Chet actually did well once we were there and has started to remember NOT to slam the church door open when he leaves. I've been working on that for 5 years now so man am I happy my diligence is starting to bear fruit! :-) With Chet, I have to have smaller goals. I honestly and sincerely have been working on this door thing for years. He likes to race up to the door, smash into the crash bar and wham the door open. I keep picturing some elderly person flying 1/2 across the parking lot as a result of the incredible force he feels compelled to use. Or the small child that becomes airborne and lands in the lake across the street. So every week I remind him. Sometimes I have to literally step in front of him and grab the door when I can tell he hasn't listened to me and processed the plan. But for a few weeks now, he has opened the door like anyone else in the world does. I don't know why it has taken years but if the seed has finally borne fruit, I am so very grateful.
Tuesday, January 13, 2009
I'm so happy!
Rob is participating in a coming of age class at our UU church. It is cool because it has a lot of fun components--retreats, 2 ropes course events, a canoe trip etc. But also time to reflect and process values. AND a chance to develop a close relationship with an adult in our congregation through a mentor relationship. Robbie has a cool mentor who is a good friend of mine as well which is a real plus.
One of the projects he has to do with his mentor is gather pictures that answer a series of questions that the leaders have come up with. Some recent questions were "where do i go when I feel introspective? where do i like to spend time? where can i really be myself? " There were others but you get the gist.
Now Rob I think is always afraid of having the wrong answer. As a result if asked a question he tends to freeze up, stare at you and after what seems like forever spits out an answer. You can ask "what is your favorite kind of ice cream" and not get an answer for 2 minutes! So when I was helping him decide what pictures he would need I was overjoyed when I asked the question of where he felt safe and he instantly said home! I wanted to dance around and hoot and holler. Instead, I had to act all calm and ask which pic of the house he liked better! LOL
One of the projects he has to do with his mentor is gather pictures that answer a series of questions that the leaders have come up with. Some recent questions were "where do i go when I feel introspective? where do i like to spend time? where can i really be myself? " There were others but you get the gist.
Now Rob I think is always afraid of having the wrong answer. As a result if asked a question he tends to freeze up, stare at you and after what seems like forever spits out an answer. You can ask "what is your favorite kind of ice cream" and not get an answer for 2 minutes! So when I was helping him decide what pictures he would need I was overjoyed when I asked the question of where he felt safe and he instantly said home! I wanted to dance around and hoot and holler. Instead, I had to act all calm and ask which pic of the house he liked better! LOL
Monday, January 12, 2009
On Mindless Television
I tend to watch mindless television. I watch TV while I am doing other things and thus I need TV that doesn't really require me to think. I am packing combs and taking care of kids during the few hours each night when the TV is on. Also, my spouse says I have very juvenile taste in TV. This may be because I don't usually have custody of the remote. Heck I can't even turn ON our TV without the assistance of a child! So of course my tastes run to the juvenile; that follows, right?
One of my favorite shows is 90210. It is a teen or maybe a tween show. I am reasonably sure that middle aged lesbians are not their target deomographics. But I love the cuts of music the show uses. I love the story lines. And I liked the original 90210 way back when. So there you go.
And this updated version has some timely and topical twists that apply to our family. In the new 90210, there is an adopted AA son named Dixon. The issues of having to explain his adoption all over again when the family relocates resonate with how my Rob doesn't really want to explain about his adoption right now.
In the most recent episode, Dixon is befriended by a black cheerleader at school and invited to her house to hear some great music performed by a bunch of black artists. Her dad is a studio exec or something, if I recall rightly. At any rate, Dixon's character is excited about being around other blacks. He explains to his white girlfriend that there was this whole segment of society in LA that he didn't even know existed. Timely to me also, as I want to make sure that my black kids are comfortable in black society as well as white society. And despite Obama being our President-elect, those are not really always the same societies. In my dreams maybe, not in real life.
And in another surprising twist for my 60 minutes of juvenile entertainment, the black cheerleader isn't even hitting on Dixon as one is led to believe. She is involved with a black female singer in the gospel group performing at her dad's event! OK the whole episode made my night!
If Robbie was a bit older, and a bit more mature, I'd actually watch the show with him. Sometimes things like that are good springboards for talking with my kids. Either watching a show, or reading a book together and then talking about it while i am doing the dishes and it all seems really off the cuff. (and so isn't!) But he isn't quite there yet, so I'll have to hope that I find the appropriate venue when he is!
One of my favorite shows is 90210. It is a teen or maybe a tween show. I am reasonably sure that middle aged lesbians are not their target deomographics. But I love the cuts of music the show uses. I love the story lines. And I liked the original 90210 way back when. So there you go.
And this updated version has some timely and topical twists that apply to our family. In the new 90210, there is an adopted AA son named Dixon. The issues of having to explain his adoption all over again when the family relocates resonate with how my Rob doesn't really want to explain about his adoption right now.
In the most recent episode, Dixon is befriended by a black cheerleader at school and invited to her house to hear some great music performed by a bunch of black artists. Her dad is a studio exec or something, if I recall rightly. At any rate, Dixon's character is excited about being around other blacks. He explains to his white girlfriend that there was this whole segment of society in LA that he didn't even know existed. Timely to me also, as I want to make sure that my black kids are comfortable in black society as well as white society. And despite Obama being our President-elect, those are not really always the same societies. In my dreams maybe, not in real life.
And in another surprising twist for my 60 minutes of juvenile entertainment, the black cheerleader isn't even hitting on Dixon as one is led to believe. She is involved with a black female singer in the gospel group performing at her dad's event! OK the whole episode made my night!
If Robbie was a bit older, and a bit more mature, I'd actually watch the show with him. Sometimes things like that are good springboards for talking with my kids. Either watching a show, or reading a book together and then talking about it while i am doing the dishes and it all seems really off the cuff. (and so isn't!) But he isn't quite there yet, so I'll have to hope that I find the appropriate venue when he is!
Sunday, January 11, 2009
Snow Play
As expected, our church had to cancel the 9 a.m. service. Well not the service but the religious education components. My Rob's coming of age was cancelled, and all the programs for younger kids. That was a blessing as there was no way I was going to try and drive to church in this weather. It began snowing about 8:30 last night. KC was still awake and he and i watched the first flakes starting to drift down under the light of the street light. It snowed all night. It is still snowing. See a theme here! It isn't a rapidly accumulating storm, and it is the light, fluffy kind of snow, so it isn't hard to shovel either.
I offered to tow KC down to Dunkin Donuts for a bagel. He has one every Sunday morning, but he decided that he might not like that. So he opted for his usual cheerios, eaten in record time, and a promise of playing in the back yard. I had barely cleaned up the kitchen from breakfast (the rest of the troops had french toast) when he was standing there, tapping his little toes, 'wondering' if I was ready yet! So it was time for the long underwear etc and getting ready to go out.
I actually don't have a lot of cold weather wear myself. I tend to borrow Rob or Chet's pants. Rob's fit me better than Chets, which are really big on me. I do have some thermals of my own that I wear underneath. Someday I'll win the lottery and have under armour and be really warmer when we are out, but for now, this suffices. I wear Robbie's old boots too. He is in that "man child" phase of growth where a lot of his stuff also fits me. A year or so from now that will be gone and I'll either have to spring for getting my own, or save his castoffs from this year.
I got Lissa suited up as well. She hasn't had as much snow play as her brothers. KC started really young. Mostly because he has always been a tiny little thrill seeker. I remember holding him while sliding down our hill when he wasn't a year old and him chortling with glee. Lissa has been more wary about the whole deal, though I did take her out several times last year and pull her in the toddler sled. (it has a seat belt so she can't fall out). Today though, she knew she didn't want to be left out and suited up, even to the mittens which she detests and which I made clear were not negotiable.
One thing she can do at 2 is walk in the snow a lot better and easier than her big brother KC when he was that age. Maybe the difference in height but she doesn't get exhausted from the effort the way he did. When KC was 2 I spent a lot of time carrying, pulling and sliding but he didn't spend a lot of time walking because 1/2 way across our back yard he would get tired and fall down. Not Lissa! She marched all the way to the back of the yard to the swingset so she could slide into the puffy snow bank. She marched back across the yard and slid down the hill with me. She made snow bricks with our brick maker. She was busy and had a blast. After about 20 minutes her hands were cold so I brought her in to Kirsty who took off the zillions of layers and settled her for a nap.
The boys and I stayed out much longer, playing and trying out their snowshoes. KC is really getting the hang of the walking style you need for shoeing. I think by the end of this winter or the beginning of next year, he'll be ready for some short hikes with them. There is a wildlife sanctuary in our town where we can snow shoe. I'd like to take him there. Rob too. Rob is a more experienced snowshoer, having had his pair longer than KC has.
I am sort of cold despite having chugged down a cup of coffee when we got in, but it was still worth it. The opportunities we have to make memories with our children are as fleeting as a snowflake on a mitten by our pellet stove.
I offered to tow KC down to Dunkin Donuts for a bagel. He has one every Sunday morning, but he decided that he might not like that. So he opted for his usual cheerios, eaten in record time, and a promise of playing in the back yard. I had barely cleaned up the kitchen from breakfast (the rest of the troops had french toast) when he was standing there, tapping his little toes, 'wondering' if I was ready yet! So it was time for the long underwear etc and getting ready to go out.
I actually don't have a lot of cold weather wear myself. I tend to borrow Rob or Chet's pants. Rob's fit me better than Chets, which are really big on me. I do have some thermals of my own that I wear underneath. Someday I'll win the lottery and have under armour and be really warmer when we are out, but for now, this suffices. I wear Robbie's old boots too. He is in that "man child" phase of growth where a lot of his stuff also fits me. A year or so from now that will be gone and I'll either have to spring for getting my own, or save his castoffs from this year.
I got Lissa suited up as well. She hasn't had as much snow play as her brothers. KC started really young. Mostly because he has always been a tiny little thrill seeker. I remember holding him while sliding down our hill when he wasn't a year old and him chortling with glee. Lissa has been more wary about the whole deal, though I did take her out several times last year and pull her in the toddler sled. (it has a seat belt so she can't fall out). Today though, she knew she didn't want to be left out and suited up, even to the mittens which she detests and which I made clear were not negotiable.
One thing she can do at 2 is walk in the snow a lot better and easier than her big brother KC when he was that age. Maybe the difference in height but she doesn't get exhausted from the effort the way he did. When KC was 2 I spent a lot of time carrying, pulling and sliding but he didn't spend a lot of time walking because 1/2 way across our back yard he would get tired and fall down. Not Lissa! She marched all the way to the back of the yard to the swingset so she could slide into the puffy snow bank. She marched back across the yard and slid down the hill with me. She made snow bricks with our brick maker. She was busy and had a blast. After about 20 minutes her hands were cold so I brought her in to Kirsty who took off the zillions of layers and settled her for a nap.
The boys and I stayed out much longer, playing and trying out their snowshoes. KC is really getting the hang of the walking style you need for shoeing. I think by the end of this winter or the beginning of next year, he'll be ready for some short hikes with them. There is a wildlife sanctuary in our town where we can snow shoe. I'd like to take him there. Rob too. Rob is a more experienced snowshoer, having had his pair longer than KC has.
I am sort of cold despite having chugged down a cup of coffee when we got in, but it was still worth it. The opportunities we have to make memories with our children are as fleeting as a snowflake on a mitten by our pellet stove.
Saturday, January 10, 2009
Remembrance
Last week at church my KC's class learned about a tradition within our faith called the flower communion. As part of this, every participant received a flower at the end of class. He chose a lovely yellow rose and it has somewhat amazingly stayed alive all week long on the altar in our kitchen. As I think on this further, I suspect there is a direct correlation here with how cold our house is!
However yellow roses for me always signify remembrance. I don't know if that is their "official" meaning. I know that all manner of meanings have been ascribed to a wide variety of flowers. It was a big thing in victorian times to send messages to a lover strictly by the choice of flowers in the bouquet. But this isn't necessarily official; it is just that yellow roses are remembering flowers for me.
And this month my mind is drawn often to my late mother in law. January was her birth month. She was a nurturer. From the first time I met her, she had a quiet way of making me feel not just at home, but at ease. There was a sense of belonging without expection, which is very different from the feelings in my home growing up. My life was full of expectations and while I don't think I really resented that,but I knew I loved the feeling of just "being" when I went to Kirsty's house. She was so talented with her hands. I don't think I ever saw a craft she hadn't tried and mastered. Crochet, knitting, cross stitch, needlepoint, ceramics, sewing. She did it all beautifully.And she liked sharing those skills, even with a teen who hadn't a whole lot of creative juices in her body. I remember her spending hours helping me learn to crochet.
She grew gardens like nobodies business. I swear she looked at a plant and it said "how high do you want me to grow?" Her gardens outside were always started from seed and were a blaze of beautiful color all season long. Inside, she had zillions of houseplants and they thrived. She still takes care of plants. Whatever we plant at her grave grows twice as large and strong as any of the same plants on the other graves we tend.
The thing I loved about her the most though was the fact that she loved my son unconditionally. Chet is a very different kind of person. He wasn't easy as a child. We thought his differences were just the result of deprivation in the orphanage; adjustments to a new world and a new family, and ill health. It wasn't till long after she died, that Chet's diagnosis of aspergers was revealed. But none of that mattered to her. While my father in law has always gotten visibly annoyed by Chet, my mother in law never did. She always saw through all the "stuff" to the essential goodness of his spirit. And he loved her fiercely in return.
She died far too young, claimed by cancer. If she had a failing, it was a long time addiction to cigarettes and they played a role in taking her from us. She never knew my other children, and I mourn that. I know what a gift her love would have been to them, and the joy she would have found in them. My Robbie loves to garden and she would have shared garden tips with him. KC is my artist and so many projects would have been made together. She would have loved Lissa's energies and excited explorations of her world.
There are times when I am doing something with the kids and I can swear that I feel her presence. Fleeting, it is like feeling a smile. That sounds dorky but I can't think of a better way to describe it. It is a paler version of the feeling I had when she was here, but it still feels good. And I'll bet she has some amazing gardens in the summerlands!
However yellow roses for me always signify remembrance. I don't know if that is their "official" meaning. I know that all manner of meanings have been ascribed to a wide variety of flowers. It was a big thing in victorian times to send messages to a lover strictly by the choice of flowers in the bouquet. But this isn't necessarily official; it is just that yellow roses are remembering flowers for me.
And this month my mind is drawn often to my late mother in law. January was her birth month. She was a nurturer. From the first time I met her, she had a quiet way of making me feel not just at home, but at ease. There was a sense of belonging without expection, which is very different from the feelings in my home growing up. My life was full of expectations and while I don't think I really resented that,but I knew I loved the feeling of just "being" when I went to Kirsty's house. She was so talented with her hands. I don't think I ever saw a craft she hadn't tried and mastered. Crochet, knitting, cross stitch, needlepoint, ceramics, sewing. She did it all beautifully.And she liked sharing those skills, even with a teen who hadn't a whole lot of creative juices in her body. I remember her spending hours helping me learn to crochet.
She grew gardens like nobodies business. I swear she looked at a plant and it said "how high do you want me to grow?" Her gardens outside were always started from seed and were a blaze of beautiful color all season long. Inside, she had zillions of houseplants and they thrived. She still takes care of plants. Whatever we plant at her grave grows twice as large and strong as any of the same plants on the other graves we tend.
The thing I loved about her the most though was the fact that she loved my son unconditionally. Chet is a very different kind of person. He wasn't easy as a child. We thought his differences were just the result of deprivation in the orphanage; adjustments to a new world and a new family, and ill health. It wasn't till long after she died, that Chet's diagnosis of aspergers was revealed. But none of that mattered to her. While my father in law has always gotten visibly annoyed by Chet, my mother in law never did. She always saw through all the "stuff" to the essential goodness of his spirit. And he loved her fiercely in return.
She died far too young, claimed by cancer. If she had a failing, it was a long time addiction to cigarettes and they played a role in taking her from us. She never knew my other children, and I mourn that. I know what a gift her love would have been to them, and the joy she would have found in them. My Robbie loves to garden and she would have shared garden tips with him. KC is my artist and so many projects would have been made together. She would have loved Lissa's energies and excited explorations of her world.
There are times when I am doing something with the kids and I can swear that I feel her presence. Fleeting, it is like feeling a smile. That sounds dorky but I can't think of a better way to describe it. It is a paler version of the feeling I had when she was here, but it still feels good. And I'll bet she has some amazing gardens in the summerlands!
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