March 5, 2008
The swoosh of snowmelt through the gutters, the drip, drip onto the front porch, the occasional thump of an ice chunk falling from the roof – these are the magical sounds of March. But there’s another that is even more delightful: the unmistakable oak a lee of the red-winged blackbird.
February 26, 2008
At 4:00 a.m., I was awakened by the wails of my six-year old with a stomach bug. I switched on his light and reassured him, through his tears, that I’d help him feel better. I ran water in the tub while I searched the kitchen for his favorite cup, a pumpkin with a bendy straw for the stem. After he sipped some ginger ale, he relaxed in a bubbly warm bath while I stripped the bed, cleaned up his room, and laid out new pajamas. I held him as he ate a few bites of dry toast (to which I’d added a smiley face made out of strawberry jam). His whole being a bit more settled, he crawled between fresh sheets. I tucked the special quilt his grandmother made him around his shoulders and read him Goodnight Moon. It was 7:00 a.m. before I could slip back to bed. The […]
February 21, 2008
Being present means not being attached to any outcome. Not anticipating a particular result. Not wigging out but not going all giddy, either When turning in bed, though, can’t I hope for a comfortable result?