9/16/2014

AT THE OCEAN

I stood in the edge of the water, feeling like I could give myself to the outgoing tide. The sky was gray and the water was dark, and I could feel shells collecting at my feet as they sunk down into the green and black swirls of darkness.   It was warm, not like the cool black spots in a lake that make you quiver when you swim into one.  Waves crashed fiercely behind me but gently pulled me forward on their way back out.  How badly I wanted to stretch out my arms, tuck my head under and swim, swim until every muscle in my body ached for me to stop.
 
 

 
Instead, I walked along the shore and gathered shells.  I also pretended that I wasn't thinking about real life, just as my husband hoped I would do.  See, he's stronger than I am. He's calm in the face of a storm and I'm not.  I let fear linger in my head and in my heart too long.  He knows that if he doesn't create a diversion for me, I will drown in that fear.  That's what this trip to the ocean was about . . . quiet, peace, safety, beauty, strength, blessings, comfort, love . . .
 
How could you feel anything less when you're standing on the shores of something so magnificent and so beautiful with the one person who totally understands why you are there.
 
 
 
ps...I am so thankful for your heartfelt comments on my last post.  Our family is struggling right now with storms that never seem to end, so your kind and thoughtful comments mean the world to me. Thank you.   xo   

9/11/2014

STRENGTH AND HONESTY

The sun is setting in the woods.  It's casting long light shadows on the kitchen floor and over the beds of leaves.  I feel fall creeping in, scattering yellow and red leaves around the cabin.  Walking up the dirt road, I take my sweater off.  Sitting on the dock listening to the evening sounds, I put it on again.  I'm excited to see fall deep in the forest.

Yes, I know, I have repeatedly said how much I love our little cabin and the little dock on the cove. It's become a haven for me, a quiet place all to myself, where I gather pinecones and leaves, watch the birds, listen to the frogs, spend hours on the shore....all the makings of a sweet and happy fairy tale. Sometimes I think I'd rather stay right here and not move to the house.  That is, of course, not going to happen, but I'd be happy if it did.  It's easy to hide out here, let real life happen past that dirt road.
 

 
 
That's what I'm doing right now, I'm hiding out.  While doing so, I hope to find strength and honesty  in my life, in our little family's lives. If I were truly honest in this space, I would tell you about the hardships we've endured the past ten years or so.  I would tell you about my son, my talented, loving, wonderful, beautiful son who keeps going astray no matter how hard we try or how many new chances he gets. But, my stories are mixed with his stories, and some are only for him to tell, not me. The latest story however, is far too big for me to handle right now but there's no way I cannot write about it.  I just need to find the strength to be honest. 

9/02/2014

I HAVE A FRESH PEACH PIE IN THE OVEN

I just noticed the date on my last post here, where have I been?  I think maybe I have confused talking out loud to myself with actually writing here. Otherwise, I don't know where three weeks have gone to.  Routine has set in, there's been little more than driving back and forth to our new town and working on the house.  When I step back and look at the big picture, we've done a tremendous amount of work.  Although, when I walk in the door, I wonder what we've been doing for all these weeks.  That's how time is though...it doesn't matter how your days are spent, sometimes it leaves you in the wind as it passes by.
 
 

 
I explore a lot here, on the back roads that lead to pretty places.  Off one of these roads is a make-shift stand with a weathered sign above that reads "PECHES." ( short for peaches, I guess )  An old man, a true gentleman with weathered hands to match, will fill you a basket of his sweetest home-grown peaches.  While he's picking out the perfect ones for your basket, he talks of how his grandfather started the peach orchard and of his best friend, a mangy dog that hasn't had a proper brushing or bath for far too long.
 
The first time I stopped, he asked me where I was from.  I asked him if it was obvious that I wasn't from around here.  He told me, that didn't matter, it was a pleasure talking to a pretty misses.  I told him that I'm from Nebraska, and he said he didn't realize there were such pretty ladies in Nebraska, only fields and corn.  He totally made my heart melt.  Sweet man, sweet peaches, sweet afternoon.   

 I didn't really make a peach pie.  I just like saying country-ish things like that.


Happy Tuesday Friends.  Hope you're all still stopping by here after a silent three weeks.  xo