How exactly do you describe a day that life may only give you a few of? It’s a day when something so special happens that you just know, deep in your soul that it is a one of a kind experience. It tends to be a day that you remember, when you close your eyes a year later – ten years later- the definitive blue the sky was, the way the breeze cooled you off on a warm afternoon. 

Those days are only made more special by the company you keep on that particular rotation of the Earth. And although you want the Earth to stop that very rotation so the day can last forever, it certainly doesn’t stop for you.

Recently, I celebrated the one year anniversayr of a “BEST DAY EVER”. The beautiful thing about it was that I was fortunate enough to share it with several of my dearest friends and even my daughter. I reflected on the anniversary by re-living all the moments of the day. Some even so special that I can hardly bring them to the forefront of the memory because I still cannot believe it all happened. I know on that day I sent out tons of gratitude to the Universe for giving me each and every second. Because of that I’m able to hold that day in my heart, in my soul and cherish it deeply. My gratitude still goes out for those special hours of my life. 

My teenager though, felt sad and a little depressed on the anniversary. She said she had dreaded the day for awhile, knowing she’d have a hard time making it through. Of course, I gave her a similar speech to the above, but I think she couldn’t grasp what I was trying to say. Which was if you enjoy each moment of a BEST DAY EVER then you can move on and know that you lived right there in that moment at the time. You were completely one hundred percent present. 

Then I realized that was my reality of the day and how I was going to move forward, how I would cope knowing that, quite possibly, I’d never get another day like that again. She knows that too. She only had to wait 16 years to have a day like that.

This got me to wondering if it is better to have a BEST DAY EVER when you are young and have the youth and freshness of life still in your veins or are humans better off having that day once the lines of living are on our faces. My mother could not answer that question, she wasn’t sure. Neither can I. I’d sure like to hear from others to see what you think. 


Water Under the Bridge

I thought this writing exercise I started a few weeks back was going to be about me changing direction in my life. But, in fact, I have this feeling it’s going to be about me letting go of myself through letting go of my mother. Since I started my newest ‘life adventure’ my mother’s illness has taken a leap into the next phase. And that leap of hers caused an earthquake for her children.

Growing up, my mother was the strongest woman I ever knew. She will always be the strongest woman in the world to me. She is intelligent, has a kind and loving heart, and was able to overcome obstacles as large as Manhattan sized buildings in her life. The things she struggles with are the same things all children of alcoholics struggle with: low self-esteem, difficulty dealing with conflict, openly expressing one’s true feelings, asking for what one needs. That is her story and she would be horrified to know that I was sharing that with ‘the world’. (Mom, I don’t have that many followers.)

I’ve been mad at her for years. Why? I don’t even know right now. But I do know that I’m getting a chance in this life to get over it and find and remember that she is my mommy and I love her – showing her the love that she so deeply deserves at this juncture of her life.

The thing is, of course I know why I’ve been mad at her for years. There are many reasons and in my mind some of them are legitimate and some are not. I’ve been trying to let go of her for years and I see now that my feelings of anger, disappointment, sadness all stood in the way of me loving her completely as an adult so that I could let her go, lovingly, someday. 

I wasn’t her teenage daughter that fought tooth and nail with her all those years ago. I wasn’t quite the pleaser. I did hang out with my mom, did what she asked. I was a pain too, but mostly not, falling right in the middle as my birth order suggests. So when we argued as I was raising my own children, I was surprised at this conflict. Now I get a chance to make it right. I get to show my mother the compassion I assumed someone else would show her, one of her other children, anyone else she knows. 

I am a lot like her, willful, unbending, strong, control freak. I thought that through those characteristics I could make her better – make her not sick – make her the strongest woman in the world. How does death come to the strongest woman in the world? How can it even dare to approach her?

My sister, who is a wise woman indeed, suggested we midwife her through this part of her life. We midwife her ending, just as any of us would midwife a new life, an new beginning. Lovingly, with compassion. No yelling, no controlling. Just give the time to love, to help, to cherish and to remember how difficult it must be for the strongest woman in the world to lose control of her life.

Yes, everything else before is now just water under the bridge. 

Quick Thoughts…Slow Day

Beautiful sunshine

birds singing

hot – but good hot

baseball game

yard work

nothing much to do

a perfect 48 hours


the dog needs brushing

my tooth still hurts

and the screen door 

refuses to stay shut

it hasn’t rained


there are flowers on my peppers

and tomatoes

my basil is happy now

perfect but not perfect

cause nothing ever is


close enough