Lost love

Darn it all, but it is sometimes easier to live in the past. I just finished reading a book by Dr. Bernie Seigel and it even suggested to not fall back into old relationships to hold back loneliness. Or was that my Fairy Cards? Regardless, the thought was put forth from somewhere out there that going back to old relationships might leave me renewed with fresh life, but ultimately the reason behind the breakup/down just might rear its ugly head again. I sense the truth in that. I am tempted by promised smiles, touches and love. Something out there has heard my heart wavering and is dragging temptation away. My head tells me this is a good thing. A heartsmile fades. Goodbye again J. Maybe next life. Thank you for your from afar. It needs to stay afar. The fates have spoken.

Sick Day

My sick baby looks like so much paste lying against the pillows of the couch. Her movements today have consisted of running to the bathroom to dry heave, throw up or poop. The only other movement has been of her eyes, as she follows a movie on the DVD player. She is well enough to watch a movie, but barely able to take a glass of water to her mouth. I am sad for her, but doing well in being a caring Mommy, I hope. I have held her hair back as she has sat with her head in the toilet bowl. I have murmured that it is okay, as she quietly comments that her underwear have poop in them. It is laundry day and not nice to not have control of your body. I have been there and know it is not nice. It will be a quiet night tonight, if I am lucky. Jazz show cancelled. Yoga skipped (good thing my neighbour came over for yoga last weekend). Probably missing my therapeutic touch training tomorrow, which is disappointing. Not certain if the weekend will see us headed out of town as planned. Sorry Janet! The price of Motherhood (joyfully accepted as long as they are healthy soon please!). Fingers crossed that no one else feels crummy soon. Good night. Time to tend to babies.

Growing through love

   It is Tuesday evening. I enjoyed a lovely roast beastie dinner this evening with friends. The kids all ate well and got properly spun out by their dessert of chocolate and mini cinnamon rolls. I relished playing the role of sophisticate sipping red wine and discussing classic children's literature, homeless people and whatnot stuff. We laughed and socialized. I felt normal. I am a part of the world. I even worked today. My "job" is not one I had ever really visualized myself in, but I am thoroughly enjoying the experience of being an artist's apprentice/assistant if you will. How novel! How bohemian. How truly me. I also attended the second meeting of my new book club last night. Again feeling tres sophistice discussing the merit of a piece of literature (actually it was agreed that the novel we read was not a favourite amongst us and the author was not overly respected) We drank wine and ate cheese, crackers and truffles. We pontificated on relationships with Mothers and how that changes over time. All very real world. All lovely experiences that I am thoroughly enjoying. All things I could never have dreamt of doing two years ago.

   My world is a constantly evolving thing that I am enjoying more every day. While I would love to have Brad at my side to watch our children laugh and grow, that reality is not something that I can reach out and touch. While my Brad is still very real and walks with me daily, he is not something that I can curl up to in bed. He still offers me more love than I could imagine and much insight into life, he can never again watch the kids so I can run to the store for milk or mushrooms. Whatever figures creep into my world might offer a warm spot in bed for a moment, but the bed is mine alone. I hesitate to offer me for fear of hurting me, my girls and the reality that I still am trying to figure out and settle in. I crave someone to help hold the reins of life, but cannot help the critical eye I cast on candidates. Not good enough for the girls, or Brad, or worse ME? Truthfully I still don't hold myself high enough just yet to trust instincts and old flames. I want someone to be by my side and be perfect, but know that will never be. Not right now. Maybe not ever, but I doubt that. In my heart, I feel that a more deserving soul will walk upon my path some day and we will smile on each other. I do feel that. Maybe I have read too many fairy tales, but I think it is more the love that I have been honoured to be showered with over the last two years. I know Brad will always walk with me, but I suspect that he is ready to step aside when I am ready to love myself enough to walk with someone else. Beautiful soul. Thank you

Sunday Suggestions: Part II

   The daylight has seeped from the world. Sunday winds its way towards its close. A lovely day it was though. The birdhouse is now completed (slightly incorrectly - what else is new!) and its fresh coat of paint is drying. Images of our morning saunter through the forest please my inner eye in reflection. The general swath of dull brown this time of year belied a rainbow of colours if one was to walk slow enough to see. Red berries and dogwood twigs punctuated vibrant green mosses and paler green grasses fading thru yellow. Purple clover played saucily at the base of white birch trees. A few yellow and orange leaves clung to branches fluttering in wisps of a breeze. Black and white chickadees flitted through barren brown branches of mighty oaks. Pale mushrooms nestled close to their bases for security. The Queen Anne's Lace retained its dignity in its delicateness along leaf covered pathways. The smells of a forest alive as it settled down for its long winter's nap was a balm for a seeking soul. How can one not find their breathe in such a serene moment.
   I must even share a brief epiphany if you will as we ambled up the last hill towards the parking lot. A mighty oak tree stood off on its own in the grasses to the right of the path. At some point it had split in two, but seemed to still be struggling on. I pointed the Grandfather out to the girls and commented that when it died it would help to feed the rest of the forest, therefore living on and fulfilling purpose. The thought struck a cord inside myself as well. I likened Brad to my Grandfather image, my oak tree example. Brad has died, but he continues to feed my soul and strengthen me. He provided for me so that I may grow and flourish. That is where I am now. I am slowly recovering from the loss of my dear oak tree, but being nourished by what is still left behind. It struck me as a beautiful image and truth. Perhaps it might for others as well.

Sunday Suggestions

   The muffins are cooled and the day is open to behold. What shall weave its way into today? The last of the autumn leaves are scattered in small pockets and suggest themselves to me. A wooden birdhouse lays on the counter and my daughter's eyes beseech me to put it together. Forever a crafter, she is in her glory when we are creating something, anything. I love my little fairy child for her joy of life! I have a yen to whiff the outside air and soak up the mild weather. The scents of a forest floor call to me in promise of renewal. The season of hibernation lends one to thoughts of quiet activities and togetherness. Anon! I must go!!