Moving

Moving

The house wasn’t the same to her anymore. Nothing really had changed. At least not that much. Clarisse still had the same old comfortable furniture. His hoodie still hung on the hook by the front door. She had told him not to forget it, but was glad that he did. She shook her head, trying to rid herself of the strange feeling. Walking into her kitchen she ran her hands over counters free of toast crumbs and spilled milk. The dining room was hers now. Just a low vase of pink and mauve sweet peas graced the polished wood. Starting to smile, she rubbed her hands together. “I’m going upstairs……to the bathroom.” It was clean! No wet towels on the floor, smushed tube of toothpaste….in the garbage. She straightened the colour coded towels on the wicker rack next to the sink. The mirror, free of streaks and splashes, showed each of her well deserved wrinkles in clarity. Stepping out in the hall, she peered into his room. The bed was made! No sign of teenage years. The closet was empty……almost. A deflated football, old sneakers (Phew!!). Picking them up between two fingers, holding them far away she put them in an empty trash basket. “That comes downstairs with me.” 

She opened her bedroom door….wide. Her room was always neat as pin, but as long as she lived with family, or had guests, she kept it closed. “Hmmmm. Maybe, I’ll get a pet….may have to keep the door closed then; but we’ll seec” She stood still and inhaled the silence of her house. The house wasn’t the same to her anymore and she would miss the disarray. She would miss her son, his clumping down the stairs, slamming the door on the way out, leaving the refrigerator door open, playing the horrendous noise that he called music, always on his phone or tablet. “Sorry Mom!” echoed. She took his hoodie off the hook, held it to her nose and breathed deeply. Then coughed and took it to the washing machine. “He’ll be back. He’s only 500 miles away at university.”

“If you want to become full, let yourself be empty.”

~ Lao Tzu

**Random first line from writingexercises.co.uk

Home!!

Boxes packed and taped

Family and movers on time and ready

Thermometer climbed….

and climbed…..

Filling the fridge with

groceries from the other fridge.

Picking through labeled boxes 

for sheets, plates, cutlery……

Mr. Jet pacing and sniffing out

every corner and window ~ approved

Next step ~ creating home

out of cardboard boxes.

“Home isn’t where you’re from, it’s where 

you find light when all grows dark.”

~ Pierce Brown, Golden Son

** A huge thank you to

Jason Ward (my son)

Jonathan Silzer (my grandson)

Marco and Jag from Two Small Men with Big Hearts

Toward Normal

Coffee shop chatter

swirls around me

distant and hopeful ~

students in the far corner

with laptops open.

learning to be ~

father and son

laughing and munching

on sweet crullers with coffee.

“I didn’t want normal until I didn’t have it anymore.”

~ Maggie Stiefvater, Lament: The Faerie Queen’s Deception

Distraction

Distraction

“Open air, whether in deep forest, widening prairies, or bottomless ocean….. - Mom!” Clayton's orange hair was a mess. In frustration, he finger-combed his hair, pulled on his ears and crumpled page after page. “Mom! I just can’t get this right. Can I read it to you and you tell me what you think?” Yelling from his room down the hall from the kitchen, he hoped his mother would help him out. Actually he hoped she would call him to bring his work into the kitchen. He was about to call her again when his wishes were granted. Rubbing his hands, he leapt from his chair. Grabbing up his notebook, he stepped over his gym bag, kicked a few crumpled pages aside, he called out “Coming!”

His mother finished the last of the dozens of cookies she had been making. She shook her head and smiled. Pushing a few stray brown curls back from her forehead, she surveyed her work - and the work ahead of her. “Clayton, Clayton, Clayton….here. Let me read that - Open air, whether in deep forest, widening prairies, or bottomless ocean…It looks all right to me….Clayton, stop eating my work!” She caught him just as another sugar cookie disappeared into his mouth. “But mom, they’re my favourites. I love sugar cookies. Are you going to decorate these?” His mother smiled behind her eyes. “Sugar cookies your favourite? I thought your favourite were the Ginger Chews? Or was it those oatmeal/raison cookies?” She whisked a tray of cookies out from under his grasping fingers. “Now, I’m not the one you should be talking to. Talk to your father. He’s the English Major, and never lets either one of us forget it. But he does know more than I do.”

“But I don’t like talking to dad about my work. He gets all into his teacher mode and asks me what I think is wrong, then tells me I’m wrong about what I think and besides that…….” His mother interrupted. “It’s Saturday, he’s in the garage working on his 1960 Mustang. He wants it ready for the Christmas parade next week.” While she talked, she prepared a small plate of cookies. Picking up a thermos from the cupboard, she handed both to her son. He quickly stuffed his notebook under his arm and took cookies and thermos from his mom. “What’s in here? Coffee for dad?” 

“Yes and he’s got sodas in his little fridge out there. Go. Go. I’ve got to get the frosting on all these cookies now, get them packaged for the bake sale and get them over to the church…Go!”

“All right, all right! But if dad gives me a hard time…….” Clayton disappeared out the back door still complaining, but glad he had the cookies.

~~~~~

“Open air, whether in deep forest, widening prairies, or bottomless ocean…” His father was no help at all. But they did have a good discussion about horse power. There were no cookies left. Wiping his hands of cookie crumbs, his dad said. “I’m not being a teacher today, son. You’ll have to figure it out for yourself.”

“Distraction from distraction by distraction.”

~ T.S.Eliot

Just an Old Suitcase

Just an Old Suitcase

‘Expeditions can be dangerous, with much excitement and often with some strange sort of enjoyment. I had hoped for all three of these qualities. We were going into territory that none had yet to explore…….’ This was the beginning of my great uncle Bert's journal entry. Found in a side pouch of an old black leather suitcase, a hole in one corner, scratched and scuffed from travel, the suitcase was still packed with his old khaki safari clothes. What else I couldn’t tell just yet. My family were clearing out the attic in his old house in Wyoming. All that was left was this old suitcase. It felt oddly heavy when I picked it up, ready to take it downstairs. I untied the frayed brown ribbon holding the journal shut. Opening the dusty wrinkled brown leather cover, I sat up against the wall under the attic’s only window, the pale sun my only reading light. The spidery handwriting on dry yellowed pages gave off a musty smell. Those words were the only words I could read clearly. My own expedition was about to begin. I heard my father call me. 

“Come on, son. Get a move on. We’ve got to get all this into town before supper. Your mother is waiting.” I tucked the small journal into my vest pocket. 

“Coming dad. I just have one thing left.” Closing up the suitcase, I brought it downstairs. 

“Can I keep this one, dad? I want to go through it. It’s Great-Uncle Bert’s old traveling suitcase and it still has his things in it. I want to go through it later.”

“Sure thing, son.” Dad glanced at it then stopped and pushed his cap back. “ Wow! I had forgotten all about that suitcase. Can we go through it together? I remember some of Uncle Bert’s stories from those days.”

“That would be great!” My dad and I had not been talking all that much lately. We’d grown distant......and now? This could be a really interesting expedition. Going off to university in Arizona was not that far away. Getting close to dad again over an old suitcase full of Great-Uncle Bert’s travels would be perfect.

“The first rule of an expedition is that everyone should stick together.”

~ Tahir Shah, In Search of King Solomon’s Mines

Privileged - but not Biased

New dad Jon (my grandson)with
new born Rylie (my great granddaughter)

Grandpa Jason (my youngest son) with Rylie
just a couple of weeks later

While standing still and completing my ironing this morning, privilege was the thought that rolled around as my iron passed back and forth to smooth any wrinkles. Privilege, in its social context, is not particularly popular! It is often used sarcastically, sardonically and with just a hint of derision. Years ago, my son Jeff (now a Great Uncle) suggested to me that owning a car was a privilege. He did not say that with any note of derision. At the time, I had only been about six months without a vehicle. My faithful old car of over twenty years had been donated to the Kidney Foundation for parts. It really was a sad loss for me, losing this convenient and costly privilege.

Privilege has gained layers over the years. A couple of those layers are economic status and educational status. If anything interferes with one’s ability to achieve a high tax bracket or even one educational degree, people are shunted aside to form a queue - and it best be orderly. However, that is only if we accept that privilege comes with lots of money or formal education. I must admit I give into both of those things on days when I’m certain that there is an insurmountable lack of something or someone in my life.

But there is a greater privilege that transcends any amount of money or any number of degrees of education. It is that of being a new member of a family. That privilege is offered to all of us the day we are born and throughout life. Unfortunately, for some, this is not a blessing that many of us are given. Even if families have started out with most of the right stuff, the vagaries of life may change it all. Being appreciative of a loving but imperfect privilege, grateful for what we have been entered into and never taking it for granted is a challenge. A challenge when we are so focussed on social privilege. A challenge to maintain loving relationships within our families, no matter any unfortunate circumstance. It is, however, my opinion that family, parents, children are the base of anything else - cars, dollars or education with a capital E. This foundational layer of privilege has been stressed to me in this past month by the birth of my Great Granddaughter and the gathering of family around that beautiful soul. 

“Family is not an important thing. It’s everything.”

~ Michael J. Fox

All is Well

Click.

Just a tiny click

No keys

My heart lurched

(My grand-dog by my side)

Call your son

Pocket pat

No phone

My heart flipped

(My grand-dog by my side).

Creativity vanished

Panic threatened

Blue sky or no blue sky

My heart began to pound

(My patient grand-dog by my side)

Deep breath

Reach out

But to whom?

My heart felt lost and sore

(My patient grand-dog by my side)

Gratitude

To a passerby for the time (I have a bus to catch)

To the neighbour across the street who let me call my son

To the neighbour next door who called a locksmith.

My heart slowed to an almost normal beat.

(My very patient grand-dog by my side)

Gratitude and relief

A friend arrived with a key because of 

the magic of communication from son to son to friend

My heart had jumped with joy

My very patient grand-dog out for a proper walk.

“All is well, nothing like a little adventure panic to get the blood flowing.”

~ Jeff Ward

Only A Day

Only a day

Long and short

Quiet creativity

In a colouring book

In stories painted onscreen

In delicious small meals

In flickering fireplace flames

Son, dogs and kitty by my side

Resting mind, body and soul.

“Today is only one day in all the days that will ever be.”

~ Ernest Hemingway, For Whom the Bell Tolls

The Missing Blog Post

Before pen on paper

fingers to keyboard 

body said otherwise.

out of the blue, 

too much rich food,

Christmas Eve and Christmas morning blew in a fog

an entire day blurred 

into the sofa. 

Incredibly grateful for my son's stay to offer tea and kindness,

movies rolled on, 

grand-dogs creatively snuggled beside me,

grand-cat slept on my shoulder

joy and merriment tucked away for the day

to be savoured for the love on Christmas Day.

“The happiness in your life depends upon the quality of your thoughts.”

~ Marcus Aurelius,  Meditations

Surprise!!!!

Always honouring my birthday (66 years old today), yet seldom with planned ‘birthday’ activities.

Ever up for birthday surprises,

they are not an expectation or a requirement for an enjoyable day.

Sons at work and in another city,

other family and friends also away and in other locations

friends here active in their own lives.

To flow through my day was my only focus.

Brunch seemed a good idea.

Ordered, and almost all consumed (five tiny potatoes left!)

when my phone screen showed me that Jason was calling

We visited, I shared where I was - Oaks Restaurant & Grill - found easily on-line and my son returned to work - I returned to my plate.

“Would you like some dessert?”

My kind waitress suggested that ‘someone’ had paid my bill and really wanted me to have dessert. Brownies seemed to suit and this lovely plate was brought to my table. Chocolate........moist and delicious....

Now who could that Invisible Benefactor have been?

“There is no surprise more magical than the surprise of being loved.”

~ Charles Morgan

Fairly Traded Energy

My sister Kate and I needed just a bit more energy to stop and have coffee after a long day. First going out to breakfast, then a walk to and around Granville Island, lunch with niece Daisy, riding an Aquabus to Dock 7 and finally a walk through Vancouver’s midst to Gastown. We were greeted at Warboy Salon in Gastown by co-owner Jeff Ward. (Did I mention that he is my eldest son?) We visited about many family happenings, as well as a well known Saskatchewan artist, Bob Boyer and his works. (Did I mention that his son, Jonah, is the other owner of WarBoy Salon?) 

At the end of our visit, it was time for coffee. Son Jeff suggested that we go to East Van Roasters where, not only was there good coffee, but really, really good chocolate.  What follows really clinched the deal.

East Van Roasters is a “non-profit social enterprise of the PHS Community Services Society. We provide support and training to the women residents of the Rainier Hotel and other downtown Eastside housing initiatives.” A fully registered charity, they ask only for community's support for those women seeking to return to the working world and to better not only themselves but the hand that their lives have dealt them. Those companies, like East Van Roasters, and the women who are being assisted need a lot more energy on a daily basis than one day of vacationing that Kate, Daisy and I enjoyed.

Supporting this business was a very fair trade.

East Van Roasters is located at 319 Carrall Street Vancouver, British Columbia  Canada

and can be contacted at 604-629-7562 or INFO@EASTVANROASTERS.COM   

Their website is http://eastvanroasters.com/

WarBoy Hair Salon is located in Gastown at

22 E Cordova

Suite 107

Vancouver, BC V6A 1A4

“We cannot seek achievement for ourselves and forget about progress and 

prosperity of our community.... Our ambitions must be broad enough to 

include the aspirations and needs of others, for their sakes and for our own.”

~ Cesar Chavez