Today the grandkids and I buried one of the baby scrub jays that live in the tall line of arborvitae lining the upper edge of our backyard.
A blur of activity, a brain that never stops, a trickster, a climber, a jumper, exuberance that makes me stop and watch, stop and breathe in her 8 year old essence.
My mind lingers on death more often these days. I tell Alan that if I become too demented and disabled he should smother me with a pillow, but he hasn't agreed. How about a commemorative plaque on a bench instead?
It was hard to know what disaster to pay attention to yesterday. And yet we keep on with our small lives, surviving, loving, laughing, singing. I'm privileged to be able to turn away.
...with this march and the discussions, her school is asking Rosa to learn that she is a change-maker, that her actions impact not only her friends and family but her community and the world.
I didn't fall in love with Portland right away. I wasn't all that impressed during our many visits early on. It felt more like a blind date, a set-up by our daughter. Portland was an occasional fling, not marriage material. Landing at the airport on the northeast end of town, we drove through the grittiest … Continue reading Falling for Portland
I set out alone from Santa Barbara on a hot July day, my little sedan packed to the brim, and cruised north along Highway 101. The one key I owned was to my car. I had just finished packaging up my life, to leave the place I'd lived for 32 years. I was alternately thrilled … Continue reading Changing For Good
Do we choose hope or despair, heroism or cowardice, light or dark? Frodo and Sam might have answers.
They taste of history and of memory, they taste of love, and they taste of butter. They taste of mom, who made them on special occasions. They taste of Nana Bea who would help make them on her annual visits from Chicago or Florida. Nothing but milk and eggs, flour and yeast, a little sugar … Continue reading Rolling in Memories