On the Porch - Buddin’ Blooms

Spiky Mother Hen ~ 

beneath the table protected 

from over heated sun-rays ~

birthed her Chicks on a strange stalk carrying little fists of delicate pink blossoms.

“Dryness promotes the formation of flower buds….. 

flowering is, after all, not an aesthetic contribution, 

but a survival mechanism.”

 ~ Ann Zwinger

Chapter One, Episode 158 - Revelation - Situationally Theirs

Review, Revision, Edit and Update

“How your characters act and react - how they think and feel; how they handle obstacles and respond to people, places and things - is story. - Nancy Lamb, The Art and Craft of Storytelling”

In this episode, I introduced more fully the unexpected character of Carrie Tyler. What I had failed to do was clearly identify who, in the series, she was related to. I suppose I was assuming that everyone read everything and remembered that she is Emelina Beaufort's daughter. Another issue about character development by the same author discusses the authenticity of a character and building empathy. I did not want this to feel like poor Carrie was dropped from the sky but had a purpose for her presence in the story. My revisions today, besides some minor sentence structure issues, have connected Carrie's story to the larger story of Situationally Theirs.

Revelation

People at the hospital kept calling her Mrs.Tyler, her legal name, but she hadn’t been that for quite some time, losing any contact with her husband after their second child was born. On his way out the door, he said he would be back soon, but only called her a couple of times. When she hadn’t heard from him for a month, she contacted his brother. He was talking with him regularly and didn’t want any further contact from her. Carrie had been half expecting to hear that, but from her husband, not his brother and definitely not over the phone. She had yet to change her name. Legally, it was such ball of knotted yarn she had only ever started it. Raising two kids on her own meant working two, sometimes three jobs, just to pay her bills, and put away a small nest-egg by giving up things for herself. If her mother and father had not been so amazing, the outcome would have been very different.

~~~~~

Carrie was disappointed in herself. Her thin, weakened body betraying her, she could do nothing by lie limp and drained between cold hospital sheets. Inside, she was restless and wanted to leave the hospital, her bed and her room, desperately longing to continue her search for her birth mother. She had come so far. All the way across the country, working at whatever job available, only to get to Alberta and the shut down that came with the spread of the Covid19 virus. Jobs were not only scarce, they were practically non-existent. Applying for financial aid from the government, she had to stay in one place, barely scraping by until she was enrolled. Fortunately she had the security of an unchanging email address and a good telephone plan. Unfortunately, she had to dip into her meagre savings so those few bills would be paid at least for a time. Cheap hotels, motels and on some nights a doorway, a copse of trees or under a bridge were her lot. When options for shelter were becoming increasingly limited, she dug deeper into hard won savings for the most inexpensive but sturdy camping gear in whatever store was still open. After losing her last job, when its doors closed, and reviewing her situation, she knew she was in much deeper trouble. There was nothing good about it except that she had, not just a goal, but a location where she might find her birth mother. She had carried this most important clue everywhere.

~~~~~

It was after the children had gone to bed. Carrie and her parents settled themselves in the living room. After a few minutes of silence, Carrie’s mother began fidgeting “Anyone want coffee or tea, hot chocolate? I’m going to put the kettle on. A little plate of cookies would be nice, don’t you think?” Mrs. Carter nodded to her husband “Ed, why don’t you get those papers that we want to show Carrie.” Carrie stood and followed her mother. “Mom, I’ll come and help you. Dad, hot chocolate is your favourite at this time of night, isn’t it?……with whipped cream?” On her way by her dad, she kissed him on top of his head. Ed Carter felt his eyes tear up. “What would I do without you, you sweet girl.” Forcing a serious and stern demeanour, he went to his den for the Adoption papers. This weekend would tell him if he would lose his 30 year old little girl or not.

“We decided we couldn’t put it off any longer.” Carrie’s mother barely kept eye contact with her as she started to talk. “Put off what, mom? And what are those papers you’ve got hidden in that folder, dad?” Always able to talk to her parents about anything from the time she was a little girl, this was an unusually tense situation. They were so nervous. “Who wants to go first? Please, I really don’t like this.” Carrie laughed nervously. “Is one of you dying or something? Are you criminals finally found by the police? Are you not really my parents……..?” Her eyes stinging with tears, Carrie didn’t know whether to sit frozen or to run. “Oh, Carrie, we’ve always wanted to tell you but there was never the right time.” Mrs. Carter put her teacup down, splashing tea on her dress. “Carrie, you have always been my little girl and always will be.” Ed smoothed the adoption papers out on the coffee table. Mrs. Carter reached for the folder and took something out of it. She leaned into her husband and whispered. “Can I give this to her, Ed?” Her husband nodded and patted her hand. “Now, mother, let’s just slow down. We need to listen to what Carrie has to say first.” The silence thickened and spread. “I don’t have much to say. You are my parents…adopted or birth parents….it doesn’t matter. I love you both and you are my mom and dad.” Even so, there were a lot of tears and some anger after years of that secret slipping between them like a dangerous silken scarf. Once the secret was revealed, they all understood much more about each other. Her parents knew that they had done the right thing for their girl. Carrie’s need to know her birthmother was born that evening, made real in an old black and white photograph, a name printed on the back: Emelina Eliot. 

“There is an ancient tribal proverb I once heard in India. It says that 

before we can see properly we must first shed our tears to clear the way.”

~ Libba Bray, The Sweet Far Thing

A Great Grandmother's Belief

Greater commitment to life and living cannot be found than when we welcome a new and very precious child into this world that seems only full of turmoil.

A precious new soul softens all the rough edges, only asking to be loved and cared for unconditionally

~ letting us know, 

in very plain new baby language,

when we go our driven adult ways, that we are needed and wanted. This commitment to life, a tiny precious life, depends on us ~ for love, for caring and for connection to this new world.

I say ‘us’, because the time worn statement that it ‘takes a community' to raise a child is true. My dear young parents need their communities and 

their families, to support them unconditionally in their new journey ~ this grandest of all experiments.

“I’ll love you forever, 

I’ll like you for always, 

As long as I’m living 

my baby you’ll be.”

~ Robert Munsch,

 Excerpt from Love You Forever

And Yet

Sensitivity about any waves of sadness stirs slowly in December except for those that feel it so deeply that even taking a step into each day drags as though walking through mud thick with shattered twigs and matted leaves.

All around us we are asked to feel joy,

have fun, smile and ignore our pain

‘get in the spirit’ of the season

      of joy, 

        of transformation, 

            of rebirth.

And yet 

It is our own joy that has been buried.

It is our own transformation that is to come.

It is our own rebirth from being lost that stirs slowly.

Sensitivity may come from others, 

but being sensitive to ourselves can be 

a gift full of wisdom and kindness in

this most joyous and difficult of season.

“It is because I think so much of warm and sensitive hearts, 

that I would spare them from being wounded.”

~ Charles Dickens, Oliver Twist

Birth Days

On my birthday, I think

of the child that was born

swimming into a foreign world

greeting it with cries and smiles

intuitive trust for those around

not knowing the life that was to come or that life has a beginning or an end only that big faces come with bottles; that when I cried my discomfort I would soon feel clean, calmed and comforted.

My mom's hand wrote these words
on the back of the photo

On anyone’s birthday, I think

of the child that was born

to a family of love or loss

with all its ups and downs

no knowledge of riding the waves

only intuition, instinct, the ability to learn and the desire to be loved and belong ~ helpless to do more than just be ~ absorbing life's peace and not so peaceful for life beyond the womb shaped over time and growth.

“They should tell you when you’re born: 

have a suitcase heart, be ready to travel.”

~ Gabrielle Zevin

A Cat Tale - A Furry Change of Pace

In my wanders through papers and photos I discovered these two pictures. Phoebe was the last kitty I’ve had in a very long line of kitties. She was quite precious and came from an SPCA. My other discovery, a week after I had her with me, was that she was pregnant. Although the SPCA would have taken her back, I was quite enamoured with her and took her home with me. Two lovely kittens were born. One, a big fellow and the other, a bit smaller. It was four o’clock in the morning, in about 2002. I was sleeping peacefully when Miss Phoebe came up on my bed in great distress. The birthing was there and then. Phoebe had two little ones, later named Howe and Marvin. (Phoebe’s looking quite offended with the flash disturbing her.) Marvin, from the day he was born, was hungry, hungry pushing his way in to nurse. Howe, with his big eyes and large Tabby ears, was always just a lovely kitty.

A kitten is the delight of a household. All day long 

a comedy is played out by an incomparable actor.”

~ Champfleury, The Cat Past and Present

To Celebrate

A conversation about births

About deaths

About joy and excitement 
Welcoming new life into the world

About caring in sadness and loss
Saying goodbye to ageless and aged lives leaving this world

There is great love and expectation 
For the new lives we are honoured to welcome

There is great love and a breathless open hand
In the care we are honoured to give as we say good-bye

It is easy and a joy to say hello
With great determination and sadness we say our good-bye.

“What life expects of us is that we celebrate.”

~ José Eduardo Agualusa, The Book of Chameleons

Overload

Media reports full of information about

health care, 

and the strength to recover, 

war and political struggles
and the courage to question.

The challenge remains

to beware

to be afraid

to know that danger is close

to mistrust others

and now

to mistrust ourselves

And yet

To trust the science because we are told to

To trust the science because of science’s track record

To believe in the science because the science is always right

To trust our governments

Technology

with sensors everywhere

globally and at home

In our phones

In our homes

In our vehicles

and now 

In the mattresses of our beds

Will all of this be inspiration for us

to regain belief in our internal sensors

of emotion

of belief

of intelligence

of wisdom?

Birth, life and death

Scientific

Politicized

Automated

Medicalized

“Where is the wisdom we have lost in knowledge?

Where is the knowledge we have lost in information?”

~ T.S.Eliot

The Time of my Dying is not...

....today or even next year.

I’ve made up my mind.

I don't have time to be old!

Hibernation would be my choice, but for today ~

hiding myself away in a bed alone and covered to my eyebrows seems rather boring, don’t you think?

As long as I can, I’ll continue every morning to get myself dressed, ready for challenges of the mundane and the fun.

I am certainly  ~ most definitely ~

not at the stage where my bottom has to be wiped by a stranger!

There are days when I'm pretty darn tired........

Today, I’m going to get my hair done.

My shoulders are too stiff to do much more than 

pat hair spray to keep my curly locks in place.

Then I’m off to the library for more books.

I always longed for time to read,

whatever and for however long I wanted.

A favourite topic is the time of dying - my dying, although no one's written anything about me.

Are you offended or shocked?

Using the word dying?

Applying it to myself?

And to now?

We often think of it as though it must always be

Sudden! Tragic!

And oh, so very Sad.

A thing ~ not a process ~ that all of us go to, and through, unwillingly.

We don’t think of the Choice to cuddle into the going out,

as we were cuddled into our entering in.

Certainly some deaths are tragic in Unexpected Suddenness,

just as some births are tragic in Unexpected Suddenness

And there are Births and Deaths occurring on the same day no less!

Spirits joining in the moment to give each other directions.

One spirit sliding into home at the beginning of this earthly game.

One spirit soaring into heights unknown at earthly game’s end.

In Death personality unravels ~ a person passes from family large or small.

Unknown soul direction into the great beyond to be wished for, speculated about and believed in.

In Birth, personality not yet molded ~ a child born to family large or small.

Soul’s direction into this world to be wished for, speculated about and believed in.

“Nobody grows old merely by living a number of years. We grow old by deserting our ideals. Years may wrinkle our skin, 

but to give up enthusiasm wrinkles the soul.”

~ Samuel Ullman