Coming Home

Coming Home

She had only stepped away for a moment. And then another. Until the moments added up to a week. There were no routines left. They lay scattered throughout her home. She crumpled on the faded carpet of her tiny apartment. Her suitcase in the corner, still unpacked, Chelsea eyed it. Her weeklong life had been so organized, so simple. Here she was back in a much longer life. Responsibilities of career and community. But they were not the responsibilities that weighed heavy. She was responsible for herself, for her bills, for her health care - for the groceries. For cleaning….… Sometimes it felt way too heavy. Except on the days when she painted. 

Chelsea knew she would never be a great artist, but she was not too bad. She really didn’t want to be famous anyway. It was just the sweep of the brush, just a touch of colour, or a broad swath. Creating landscapes that only came from inside her heart. She had missed the smell and feel of her paints, missed wearing her paint dabbed shirts and coveralls. She had missed wrapping her hair up in brightly colour scarves to keep her hair out of her paintings. Chelsea straightened up, stood up and looked around her home. On the walls were paintings that she had done. Forever changing on a whim. That one above the dining room table actually had three - or was it four - paintings on one canvas. Cheaper and saved space. 

It was easy for Chelsea to be kind to others - that was her job. Seeing families coming into the social welfare office with just one small suitcase for four people, old men with nothing but the clothes on their back, teenagers that once thought life on the street was cool and now it was just cold. Being kind to herself was another issue. She tended to leave them behind in the bottom drawer of her desk. Sometimes she packed kindness in her suitcase and took it on holiday.

Chelsea walked over, picked up the suitcase and lay it on the coffee table. The zip stuck for a bit, but with some determined ‘holding her mouth right’ she laid her suitcase open. Everything had all seemed so neat and tidy as long as the suitcase was closed. Now the week of irresponsibility spilled out and she had to clean it up. It was mostly just laundry and putting toiletries away. There were a couple of brochures that seemed important at the time, but now were just for the recycling. Hmmm. Chelsea knew she had a bunch of old brochures waiting for something. Although…..maybe a collage? Putting the kettle on for tea, she started up the goodness of her home life again.

“We are all children coming inside from 

recess with varying degrees of dirt on us.”

~ Shannon L. Alder

Morning Musing

Musing in the morning 

I thought about my future 

that seems so long 

but is so much shorter 

than when I started this life

so rearranging my furniture

painting my walls seemed a

good idea.

For any life is lived 

one minute at a time

whether short or long 

lived harshly or kindly

sharing sunshine or rain

Musing this evening

I edged into a long project

rearranging my furniture

so I can paint my walls

for a home that brings happiness all day.

“Build your home in small moments of joy, and you will always feel at home.”

~ Charlotte Eriksson

Pruning

From Sept 2013 after much pruning

Tonight, I trimmed my tomato plant growing too tall for my container garden

so tall that leaves and stems were curling and browning

so tall that it was stretching up to the overhang

rather like an ego fed by the little voice inside

with edges curling and browning

in the face of comparisons 

with others

with our youth 

with messages of should be

pruning the dry, curling branches back

is an act of kindness.

“Criticism, like rain should be gentle enough to nourish

 a man’s growth without destroying his roots.”

~ Frank A. Clark,  politician

All I Can Do

The page is so very blank tonight ~

stepping away from routine for 

rest and relaxation,

running away from work and ordinary

to family, celebrations and remarkable

has scrubbed my mind clean

all I can do is to be

kind to myself and settle in ~

to my career and to extraordinary.

“Distance lends enchantment to the view.”

~ Mark Twain

The Day After

Such a lovely day. Cooler here in Victoria today, but clear and sunny. It is so often the case that after more than just a weekend away, I feel like I am in the middle. Like I am going backwards into my life. Instead of packing, I am unpacking. Instead of pulling things out of cupboards and closets, I am restoring order. Doing a couple of full loads of laundry when no one has been home. Instead of getting a few dollars to spend, I sort the many receipts from my wallet. 

When I feel grounded again, I gently water plants that are just beginning to wilt forward. As each bit of order is restored, I slow down in my mind until I am standing still. Standing still slowly I edge forward…. forward to the coffee shop with a long time friend. A stroll to an outdoor market for a few fresh vegetables. Home to my kitchen to make rice pudding and make my lunches for work over the next few days. 

I needed a good dose of kindness from myself to get this life back on track and retrieve my energy while taking it all one step at a time.

“Walk gently and be brave.”

~ Eleanor Brownn, writer

My Mission: A Walk to the Park

Well, I’m home from Saskatchewan. It feels good and at the same time I miss the family time that I’ve had in the last week. The trip home was pretty good. There was a glitch in Calgary when the lightening chased all of the ground workers in doors. No luggage moved off of, or onto, planes sitting patiently at the terminals. The glitch? Lightening and heavy rain. But enough about the weather. I have one more event that I attended yesterday in Moose Jaw.

Once more, I was tempted to curl up in my room with the good book in my luggage. But I went down to breakfast instead where I saw an advertisement for Broadway in the Park. I didn’t know where the Park was, but I didn’t let that deter me. Used to the short distances in Victoria where walking is normal activity, my legs were in need of a long walk. So, being kind to my anxious legs and setting my GPS, I set out under the wide blue prairie sky, wispy white clouds air brushed across the marvellous expanse.  My first stop was at Starbucks. These coffee shops, so abundant in this Island city of Victoria, are kind of sparse in the spread out cities of the midwest. Tim Horton’s is much more prevalent.

I digress. It was hot, hot and the wind blew with vigor. Arriving at Crescent Park was a welcome respite. And there were memories here for me from my teenage years having visited Moose Jaw with the 4H Home Craft Club. The Natatorium glittered and glistened in the sun. Children and teens splashed, swam and played. Young girls sporting bikinis lounged in the sun. The Natatorium I remember was an indoor pool long past it’s prime. and much smaller. Beside the pool is a playground where children played while parents sat in use or shade and watched.

My mission was to attend Broadway in the Park and I was running up to the starting time, so I wandered in the direction of a grouping of benches, straw hats and sun-brellas (I just made up that word). Then I saw it. A bright yellow trailer - the kind that you’d see in a Food Truck area. I was hungry and thirsty after my walk. A hot dog with all the trimmings and a can of cold coke fixed that little problem. 

Then to the main event. The Crescent Park Amphiteatre is a surrounded by tall trees, with benches up a marvellous slope of green lush grass. I had no idea what to expect. When the performers from Rubarb Production company began their presentations, I was stunned. Opera, Broadway tunes, and selections from movie scores were belted out across the open green space. The acters, dressed in full costume, were absolutely professional and incredibly energetic despite the heat - for an hour and a half. In all that time, under the hot sun and in any piece of shade all of us in the audience stayed and enjoyed every minute. It really topped off my mini vacation.

“Without writers, stories would not be written,

without actors, stories could not be brought to life.”

~ Angie-Marie Delsante

My Name is Gidget

There was a wedding yesterday, but not until the evening. So, what to do. I was tempted to sit in my room and read all day. That option was rejected for getting up and                                              getting going to breakfast with family that were gathered. So much visiting! I was invited to go along with two families of nieces and nephews to a tour of The Tunnels of Moose Jaw. Beneath Moose Jaw, Saskatchewan is a honey comb of tunnels that were built around 1908. There are two specific areas of interest that have been developed by the city of Moose Jaw - Chinese immigration history and the fascinating rumours about Al Capone and rum running in the prohibition years. Much of the tour is accurate history especially for the Chinese who did much of the heavy lifting for our country. For Al Capone’s story, the actual facts are as sketchy as any self-respecting gangster would have it.

The tunnels we traveled through are the original tunnels, narrow, poorly lit and spare. The history of the Chinese immigration paints a very, very shameful picture of Canada’s past. Although individuals from many races coming into Canada have been discriminated against, the Chinese were discriminated against the longest. Our little band of 22 tourists were the designated ’coolies’ or Chinese labourers. We were introduced to our deplorable living quarters by a dreadful woman who gave us a mere taste of what their lives were like in the depths of these tunnels. The hopes and dreams of young men coming to Canada were forced into the dark to become scarred emotionally and physically, while they had to pay a head tax of $500.00, pay their ‘coolie broker’ the required rate, send money home to their families all on a wage of $0.35 an hour. There was definitely no kindness to the abuses that these strong men endured.

In the Al Capone tour, our numbers were only 15 and we were entertained with the fragile facts of this story. Characters played specific parts and brought members of the tour into the story. I was one of the first. The name given to me was Gidget (my young nephews will always know me by that name). I really didn’t do anything but seemed to be a place holder in the story. We were toured through the sumptuous tunnel rooms of Al Capone and his rumoured rum running business. Hidden doors, secrecy and sounds of gunfire accompanied us. This tour was quite amusing and yet, it also showed us a world where there was little kindness in this struggle for power and money.

Both tours ended at the gift shop where requisite souvenirs were purchased. When all was said and done, we went for gelato and fudge!

“Broad, wholesome, charitable views of men and things cannot be acquired 

by vegetating in one little corner of the earth all of one’s lifetime.”

~ Mark Twain

Weddings are Messy

Planning a wedding is full of excitement, hopes and organization. While waiting for the wedding day, more plans are made by family and friends for travel and lodgings. All very organized and planned. Then the wedding day comes with everything coming to fruition. The beautiful bride (my niece Ariel) and the handsome groom (James), the elegant bridesmaids and groomsmen enter in choreographed calmness (actually controlled nerves).

But after all the ceremony, toasts and speeches the wedding becomes messy. Pretty little girls, handsome young men race about squealing and laughing. Uncles and aunts, brothers and sisters of all ages come together from all over. Conversations hollered above dance music, barefoot young women swing and dance with abandon. Even the middle aged (and older) take the floor. A few couples enjoy the graceful rhythmic swing of the music. Tables are cluttered with napkins, glasses and purses. In this digital age, the camera flash is replaced by smartphone flashes. Clutches of family and friends gather in odd corners for impromptu family portraits. Slowly the ballroom empties in pockets, tables left lonely and vacant, guests leaving slowly saying their good byes to each other.

Weddings may be messy but they are also full of kindness. Kindness to each other by bringing their best selves forward for sending off another new couple into the next phase of their journey  into life.

“Congratulations Ariel and James!”

~ Auntie Sue