Slight Rain

The upper deck is slightly damp and it's still misting outside. It looks like the sky might be breaking, which is good because the last thing I want today is another unusable Sunday. I start gathering the table setting for breakfast on the deck, place mats, folks, butter, and so forth.  Strawberries are washed and the last few blueberry pancakes are almost finished. Maybe a mimosa would be perfect with breakfast today but I'm out of champagne so my regular weekend coffee and Irish Cream will have to do.   The radio plays Jimmy Buffet's "Tin Cup Chalice". I quietly sing along, "I wanna go back...to the islands" while the tears fill up the corner of my eyes.  I push them back while I finish putting the food on the table, in a haze.  My mind is stuck, once again, in this place between two cities and I'm not even living in one of them, at least not in the present moment. I was there before and I'll have it back again. This is only temporary I remind myself about five times over.

Piles of Laundry

They stack up high, piles of smelly, dirty laundry. No one wants to move them, touch them or see them. I stare at them hoping they will disappear. My get lost in the volume. I am overwhelmed. And walk away.

An Odd Sense of Calm

An Odd Sense of Calm

There is work to be done all around me, homework, laundry, housekeeping, and packing. Yet, I don't feel rushed, overwhelmed, or that uncomfortable pressure I usually hang heavily on my mind when getting ready to leave for vacation. It's so odd that I'm beginning to think something might be wrong with me. My mind skips over the agony of what will be waiting on the other side of my sunny escape. I'm thinking that maybe that's key for now. Stop playing a chess game. Stop think many moves ahead.   There will always be something waiting at the other end of the board.  Just navigate the few steps in front of me. Tonight that seems to be working.

The Loose Tooth Obsession

The Loose Tooth Obsession

There wasn't a loose tooth in his mouth for months, after he lost two in close succession. Finally, a third decided to jiggle. Friday after school, the stories of how the other kids 'remove' their teeth began. "Mom, so-and-so's dad used a string and doorknob, so-and-so's sister punched his mouth"...and on and on the stories went.  I tried to play it cool, "D, just let it go, your tooth will fall out when it's good and ready. Besides, punching, pulling, tugging, and strings, can't really be good for your gums anyway."

Rolling his eyes he just sighed.

"Ok. We can call the dentist on Monday if you'd like." I replied.

"Nah," he whispered then asked "Can I have Coke with dinner?"

*****************************

Sunday was a typical family do-nothing day. We were enjoying our time together with an afternoon fire in the chiminea and the sunshine on the deck. Nothing really exciting going on. I stop reading and looked up. After taking a sip of wine, I asked my husband "Have you seen D? It's like he just disappeared?"

"I think he went upstairs, probably playing with his Legos." he replied casually.

He was probably right, but something seemed strange. So I walked inside and stood at the bottom of the stairs. "D? You up there? You okay?" I called.

"Yeeessss, Mom. I'm okay" He replied walking towards the top of the staircase with tweezers in hand.

"Ok, good, I thought you disappeared." I paused "What are the tweezers for?"

"Oh, I really wanna get this tooth out, wanna help?"

This Monday Morning

Today I'd rather work with the dogs than the humans. Thank GOD for working from home!

Certain Doom

Certain Doom

Today, I'm causing my own spiral into certain doom. At least to my stomach and mind. I'm working  myself up on every thought that runs through my brain.

This Sunday Morning

I'm still tired but easily wake-up and make my way downstairs, two dogs anxiously in tow. They are ready to see the sun, as am I.  It's a little foggy, but the sun is slowing burning the fog away. It's going to be a great day. I slowly make my way to the kitchen to find a hot cup of coffee waiting for me on the table. Just as I finished, my six year old begs for a bicycle ride. I agree. Together we go outside. The fog is still thick, so thick it feels as if it were lightly raining. We ride anyway.

On my newly repaired bicycle, I think back. It was three years ago I was last on this bike riding along the beach were the Gulf meets the Atlantic. For just a moment, I was back home. And on this Sunday, that's where I'll stay.