the story
July 13, 2011 § Leave a comment
There are beautiful houses, but homes share stories. I admire those who can fill the shell of a house with personality; it is an art form, a language of love. I have been waiting for, passively seeking out, pieces of art for my walls hoping to create such a home. A place of comfort and joy, serenity and inspiration, memories and dreams. Art has always felt very intimate to me and so most of our art are either framed children’s creations or family photographs. Today I bought a simple piece of art that makes my heart smile. This is its story.
My son and I were enjoying a quiet morning together as we sat on a park bench, he with his favorite donut and I with my morning coffee. We watched pedestrians pass and store fronts slowly come to life as we waited for a particular boutique to open. Unhurried and making conversation, I explained we were looking for a gift for his sister’s friend. I neglected to specify. I needed a necklace and it was this search that would lead to the happy discovery, the piece of art that followed us home.
The necklace came before the art and so I must explain. My daughter learned her birthday party was scheduled to coincide with her best friend’s birthday. Mindful that her party not cast a shadow on her friend’s day, she asked me to find a friendship necklace for her friend while she was busy at summer school. This simple request had led me to the boutique, on this morning, with my son as my companion. I was sorting tangled chains trying to decipher the various charms in search of the perfect friendship trinket when my son declared he had found the perfect gift for his sister’s friend. I followed the sound of his voice to the back of the store where he was perched next to a long wooden form, chalkboard black with white stenciled words wrapping its length. He read the words out loud and these words filled the air around us:
you are the cheese to my macaroni you are the horizon to my sky you are the bacon to my eggs you are the laces to my sneakers you are the jelly to my peanut butter you are the smile to my face you are the gravy to my mashed potatoes you are the bubbles to my bath you are the milk to my cookie you are the ink to my pen you are the ketchup to my french fries you are the water to my ocean you are the icing on my cupcake
He read it as printed, rushing from sentiment to sentiment without pause, words filled with whimsy and love. My son saw the plaque as a gift of friendship, but it seemed to exemplify the ridiculously fun, simple, silly, beautiful, imperfectly perfect life inside my home. The bubble baths my daughter lingers in; the laces my son ties clumsily with frustration; summer lunches of macaroni and cheese or peanut butter and jelly; the milk and cookies that signify a stolen moment at the kitchen island before bedtime. I also see the plate of warm cookies and milk from my wedding night and anniversary evenings at the hotel my husband and I were married; the heavy breakfasts of eggs and bacon to ward of the winter chill; mashed potatoes and gravy over declarations of gratitude on Thanksgiving; walking hand in hand with my husband towards our future someplace both familiar and new like the blue of the ocean or a cloudless horizon. Simple and reassuring I see my love for my children and husband as well as their connections with one another and the friends that bring added joy to our home.
Somewhere between family photos and children’s artwork I will find a place for this new, lovely piece of our story.
gratitude
July 12, 2011 § Leave a comment
My heart is fuller and my smile easier when my mind is centered in gratitude. I try to plant my feet in a place of optimistic possibility and so I was surprised today to discover I had overlooked simple blessings.
Watching my daughter swim at the neighborhood pool, happily absorbed in the moment, a good friend appeared beside me. Happy to be in good company I was grateful for pleasant surprises. I had wandered to the pool intending to tire my children with sunshine and play. As I visited with my friend, I learned she sought the cool waters to escape the heat of her home after a storm robbed them of power.
Returning home from the afternoon sun, little things became large blessings. The coolness of our home relieving us of heat. Cleansing showers washing away the chlorine clinging to our hair. Cold drinks and ice cream felt like extravagances in the face of my friend’s discomforts.
Tonight I am thankful for little things and mindful of simple blessings.
big dream, small space
July 12, 2011 § Leave a comment
I have a tiny dream… house. We haven’t met yet, but I have already visited often in daydreams. I imagine a small, single story cottage. The front door would open into a living room from which you could see a kitchen nestled to the side and large windows would draw in muted shades of blue and beige from the beach. The walls would be painted in calm shades of grey capturing the cool waters and drawing them indoors. White cabinets with glass doors would catch the light and eclectic throw rugs in cheerful colors would vie with nature to capture my attention. Sofas would be piled with pillows to better curl up with a book and the walls would be heavy with family photographs chronicling our life as a family in an eclectic collection of frames. Small bedrooms off to the side would wait for the day’s end, ready to welcome darkness after long hours of sunshine.
To my husband, who works tirelessly to craft a home custom fit to four unique personalities, thank you for the house of my reality.
lines in the sand
July 9, 2011 § Leave a comment
Have you ever dragged a stick through the warm weight of sand; etching a line to declare a boundary in a boundless space? This is where my thoughts are today. I keep debating what I share and where. Specifically, I am struggling with the vast space of the internet.
It took me a while to join facebook. I would wander on my husband’s account seeking out familiar faces, curious but cautious. When I opened an account my friends were largely friends whose paths crossed mine consistently throughout the course of my days. I added a few family members in an effort to stay in touch and eventually sought out a few faces from the past. Somewhere between intentional additions I had also accepted acquaintances as friends. The lines between people I knew casually and those I share openly were blurred making me uncomfortably aware of each sharing. I edited my friends in an effort to control with whom I shared freely, but there exists a subtle, lingering discomfort at the ease with which we accept strangers as friends into our lives.
The more I sought boundaries within facebook, I cast my eyes to the newly formed space of my blog. Finding joy in writing I shared this piece of myself carefully with only those I trusted with my thoughts; friends and family. I have attempted to capture glimpses of my children and reflect openly on my thoughts. Now I wonder if sharing so freely in this space is appropriate?
Today I am unraveling doubts to find my way as I struggle with boundaries.
gut
July 8, 2011 § Leave a comment
So often I am torn between speaking out and listening for direction. As my words and thoughts filter into comprehension, questions emerge and a sense of panic ensues. I want the moment back, a do over! I want to sit still and hear what the other person would have said if I hadn’t nodded my head in an instinctive good listener response or abruptly interrupted. I want to raise my hand and confess, I’m lost.
This is my most recent realization: I am still learning to speak up and have faith in that tiny voice that makes my heart race and stomach ache, my subconscious trying desperately to capture my mind’s attention. Today I am trying to follow my gut, worry less about what anyone else thinks, and ask those nagging questions making me uncomfortable.
assigned seats
July 6, 2011 § 1 Comment
In Middle School there was a moment, lunch tray in hand, I had to choose a place to sit. In all the chaos of the moment I struggled with a simple preteen wish to find a place to belong. Watching others tumble casually into groups of laughter and chatter I realized my friends were scattered, eclectic in their diverse interests.
Today, my friends remain a cheerful collection of characters. They brighten difficult moments, lend strength in moments of weakness, inspire effort when goals feel slightly out of reach. Still they are scattered across the far-reaching corners of my life; a friend from high school, others from college, and mothers I have met on playgrounds and my children’s school events. I rarely see them at once, but always save them a place beside me.
am (not)
July 4, 2011 § 1 Comment
The word (not) tucked in the middle of a thought frees me of accountability. I am (not) a cook. Read: dinner may be bad. I am (not) a cleaner. Read: I didn’t clean the [insert floor/bathrooms/stove here]. I am (not) an athlete. Read: I don’t have to fail because I have yet to try.
I am (not) a runner. The thought of people watching me run makes my chest tight and I get a little clammy. Still, I have come to find the commitment and passion in a runner’s voice inspiring. So I set (not) aside and invested a little time and energy into trying. I ran.
Today I completed my personal c25k challenge. I am (not) a runner and there is no 5k in my near future, but I am inspired by the feeling of having done something new that I did (not) think I could.
oasis
July 4, 2011 § 1 Comment
My husband’s schedule is unpredictable. Long hours and busy weeks are as common as spontaneous vacations. To create a space of togetherness, a place we could unwind and embrace a stolen moment, we indulged in an outdoor family room.
I am certain there are more extravagant yards, but ours speaks to our individual personalities and the needs of our family collectively. A large sandbox tucked under a tree and normally cast in shade offers our children a place to create and permission to make a mess. My husband’s grill allows him to indulge in a toy all his own. I am happy to curl up with a book under the clouds. Happily we move in the space together.
Still, the evening hours are the most endearing. Sitting around the fire pit, toasting marshmallows and unfolding the days events or watching our children chase fireflies entranced by the flickers of light in the dark. In this quiet space there are no distractions from the moment, it is an oasis from the chaos of our days.
six dollar pants
June 30, 2011 § Leave a comment
The City Museum in St. Louis is place that transforms possibility into reality. From the moment I saw the winding tunnels, I wanted to be little again with a license to wander. Stepping into a tunnel, I walked into a wall. I was wearing a skirt. Backing carefully out of the tunnel I left my husband with both children to find a pair of pants. After all, I was standing in a place of possibility.
My search began in the obvious place, the store planted directly behind the admission counter at the front of the building. No pants. A deep breath and determination created hope. I asked where I could find pants the way one asks what day it is and was directed to the vintage resale shop on the 4th floor. Like a treasure map, I followed the path to the store my mind swirling with adventure.
Scavenging racks of clothes, I found my vanity in a row of denim cut offs. With waists that reached to my rib cage and lengths that alternated between inappropriate and silly I grabbed an assortment of sizes, dodging the purple and pink technicolor terrors and setting my vanity aside in the dressing room. For six dollars I traded my self-consciousness over body image for adventure and indulged the child within.
counting
June 29, 2011 § 1 Comment
I came across a quote some time ago that comforts me when I attempt to measure something intangible. Not everything that counts can be counted, and not everything that can be counted counts.
Recently I looked to the tally of my blog count and felt momentarily discouraged. Busier days on my graph seemed to mock the absence of guests on other days and I felt a little lost in the space of numbered measurements. Which lead me to back to basics. What am I measuring?
In the beginning, there was only me. Even my husband didn’t realize I had begun to write. So why does a bar graph distract me from the joy of journaling my thoughts? What counts and what am I counting?
This is my reminder to myself to stop counting views as a measure of success and to remember it is the act alone that counts.
