An Invincible Summer - A Woman's Journey

We made our trip home or, should I say, we visited the place that used to be home. It was hectic, fast and rather hard on this introvert but we packed in a whole lot of love. My mother’s sister, who is the most wonderful, wise woman, is still living in the home that she has been in as long as I have been alive. She and her husband are getting close to not being able to care for themselves. Two of my sisters have stepped in to help, most assuredly prolonging their stay. When their tenure inside this home that holds so many memories is over, their son will move them closer to him in the San Diego area. If and when that happens I will probably never see them again but I won’t go down that rabbit hole. I dread that time but, of course, want whatever is best for them. I schemed and managed to get my three sisters and their spouses, as well as my youngest daughter, into my aunts home in one afternoon. We had lunch and conversation. It warmed my heart.  We golfed twice! It was fantastic t...

Allowing people to walk in and out of my life without holding on is new. The freedom to let go is liberating and so smart. The more difficult people, the ones that cause the waves around me to feel choppy and overwhelming, can now be set in the palm of my hand and offered up, back to the universe. I’ll step away. That tight fist that feared being alone, or not enough, or wanting to belong, feels more willing to just let go. Discernment on who I let in expands and it feels fabulous. I want to grow my community but I will do it with purpose.  On occasion, I am the one being difficult in a relationship. I am the one to muddy the waters, cause the waves. Why do I do that? That’s not who I want to be but change…….it takes time. My body has spent so much time being hyper aware, looking for what may hurt. Learning to look for the good takes practice. Expecting the best has to be a conscious choice. Manipulating situations so that I feel comfortable gets set aside to finding comfort inside...

My older brother, John, died the other day at the not ripe old age of 62. He was #4 and I am #5.  I called my little bro, we checked in with each other. We realized that our memories had to be very different from #’s 1, 2 and 3. They got to see John as an infant and toddler. They have memories of him growing up. My little brother and I do not have good memories of our childhood with John. He was difficult, often in trouble, had problematic friends, could be manipulative and had a lot of anger. We also do not have many good memories as an adult because he had been partially estranged with intermittent interaction that wasn’t “easy”. He was not an especially good father or husband but he did try to be a good son to my mom. I decided I wanted to share the good that I do remember…… My mom was diagnosed with ovarian cancer around the year 2000. He came home for the first surgery. It was a big one. Gone were her ovaries, cervix, uterus, the top part of her vagina and a good section of he...

Back from out trip. It was amazing and amazingly fast. Not nearly enough time to do all that we needed or wanted to do but we did what we could. It was a comfort to know that as we headed back to Oregon, we both felt that we were headed "home". This last year and three months have been tumultuous and heartbreaking but there have been many good things that have emanated from the chaos. Boy Scout and I have taken our relationship to a level that I, with my damaged heart and severed trust, never thought would happen. We are stronger and more solid than we have ever been before. I chock some of that up to a renewed and flourishing relationship with myself. Loving myself is a far better foundation than building on another person. I can love him, and others, much more freely as I develop a genuine like for the person I am, not despite all my flaws, but because of them. I am perfectly imperfect. We decided to put a ring on it. Nope, we didn't get married but we did have a little...

This morning I am feeling the ache of wanting to be with family, to connect. When I studied these feelings for a minute I realize it is the weather. This morning is chilly, with a very light cloud cover, but even with the clouds it promises to be the 2nd warm day we’ve had in months, yesterday being the 1st. Something about the sky, the chill, the clouds, the wafting smell of bacon, takes me back to childhood, camping at Lake McClure. I remember waking inside the tent, the chill in the air, needing to pee, hating to go to the bathrooms alone, desperately searching out my flip flops, as one didn’t enter those bathrooms without foot protection, trying hard to be quiet…don’t wake everyone. Once the morning chill wore off, watch out! Each day was a scorcher. Shoes were now necessary to prevent 3rd degree burns on the bottom of our feet. The only relief was the water and that’s where we stayed. Whether swimming or out in the beautiful speckled colored boats, water was heaven. I’m not sure w...

I’ve mentioned before that I watch the sun rise most mornings. I have a few spots from which I do this, where I get a pretty good view of the mountains to the east and also where I feel safe to sit in the dark before the new day breaks. One of the spots is a parking lot where the view is mostly unhindered but I am still aware I am in a mall parking lot.  In this parking, a couple of times a week, there is an odd exchange that takes place. An expensive white crossover usually shows up first and parks. Sometimes it’s quick, other times it waits a good long while. Eventually a mini van arrives and two children, one being a young teen and the other a few years younger than that, get out of the minivan and make their way to the other car. That is the usual exchange. A couple of times the kids do their routine and then the two drivers get out and have a heated exchange. I’m not close enough to hear, I am just an observer of a dance of two angry women. The dance of hurt, pain and resentme...

The Boy Scout and my youngest had what would have been called, at best, a complex relationship, and at worst, Like/Hate would be a good description. The big man, with the big personality, came into our little house and upended life. I was not really ready to have him move in but that is another story entirely. He brought with him way too much stuff for 980 sq ft along with two rather large, rather smelly dogs that were aloof to intolerant much of the time.  Alone, when it was just he and I, he was good but for others he frequently put on his "Tommy Suit" (the name I gave the personality that popped up and often offended people). My girl and he would butt heads and, for the most part, she just pretended like he wasn't there. He resented her presence in the kitchen, which he quickly took over after moving in. Maybe less her presence and more the debris left after her visit. Over time they found a tolerable truce. He decided one day to just do the dishes that were left and s...

When I was 12, a small miracle occurred. Amidst the sadness and turmoil of a family falling apart, struggling to stay in the home and keeping our heads above water, one of my sisters had a baby. He, Thomas, was the first of many nieces and nephews that I had the pleasure of greeting and welcoming into the family but this guy.....this guy brought something with him that had been missing. Hope. I can only speak from my perspective but we all seemed sort of shell shock and sad. Life had been hard, especially for my mother, and things would get harder before they got better but suddenly there was something that brought joy and smiles to all our faces on a daily basis. My sister allowed me babysit that guy and through the years we had many adventures hiking, beach trips, swimming, the zoo, teaching he and his little bro to drive in parking lots. So many good memories. I have no doubt I was not the best babysitter around, my parenting tools were (and still are) questionable, but I did, and d...

I believe in the magic of the front porch.   It’s outside, a place to relax, a dining room, and it’s an open door to the neighborhood, or more importantly, the neighbors. As we build our community, we are lucky that our neighbors are a part of it. Neither I, nor the Boy Scout, have much family nearby so the importance of having people we love and can count on is critical.   On the front porch we sit, enjoy the weather, let the dogs explore, greet anyone walking by and, best yet, read out loud. Or rather he reads to me. Right now we are reading The Brothers K. It is about family, faith and baseball, a touching and very funny story. I highly recommend it with the footnote that my opinion is based on the book being read out loud, which can change things a bit, and also the with the knowledge that because it has made the Boy Scout laugh heartily, and even wheeze for air a few times, that I may be finding more humorous because he does. Its hard to say.  Now, back to the porch....

Highlight of the month so far. Zoom meeting with all 4 kids. It was wonderful and natural. Haley (32) showed up a little early.  I would expect that and it makes me smile. She is in the Denver area and only just bearing the summer heat. She was sporting a super cute new haircut and seemed serious but content. We got a look at Baby, her 9 year old cat, sleeping the afternoon away. Haley has always been, and still is,  a mama bear to her siblings. I love that about her. Scott (27) showed up next and right on time, just as expected. He is walking and talking, with a big smile. He walks all over Portland but not for long. He and his partner are headed for a 2 year stint in Norwich (rhymes with porridge) England, where she will study and he will work remotely. I am so excited for them. McKenna (Gigi 24) shows up a little later which is just like her. She's not here at home but at her new mans house. Smiling, she is a little quiet. I text her and ask if she wants to introduce Zack t...

John at  Going Gently  inspired me to put a few of my favorite things in this post. Much of this artwork belongs to the Boyscout. While he was collecting art, I was frantically trying to get to 3 soccer games, dance class, cleaning  house, supply nourishing food to 5 other humans and working full time. Now that I have slowed down, I get to enjoy his passion. I love this because it could be me with my two boys 25 years ago.It is the main street in Carpinteria California (clearly, I need to dust). This is a typical sight around here (at least it is from January to June). The eucalyptus, and the ever present Oak, is quite common. This is also a local scene by artist Pam Schiffer. Our community has strong farming roots so fields are interspersed in the city and prominent outside city proper. The pic doesn't do this justice. It is really quite lovely and subtle. Made by my mother, I treasure few things but this is one. This little gal and her sister guard the front door. We pi...

Today is my Mom's birthday. She would have been 85. Almost 13 years ago we sat in the hospital waiting for the moment for her to be released from her earthly pain. Ovarian cancer is a brutal bitch that, while spending years quietly taking over cell after cell, when finally making itself known, makes sure that you don't spend another waking moment without the knowledge it is there. I am so thankful for having my family to go through that moment together. In that tiny hospital room, with my beautiful mom struggling for each ragged breath, and her thoughts being somewhere else (or was she still thinking....who knows the mysteries of death), there was 9 or 10 of us. We sat and spoke of our love for her and wondered if we knew how to do life without her. I still wonder that sometimes. How do you figure out life without the glue that holds it together? Well, we've done it, of course. Kept going.....but it changed things. The glue has loosened and the parts don't fit th...

The house that I owned before my divorce was my dream house. It was old, not perfect by any means, but it had a great garden, away from the city noise and it was a good size. The dreams I floated for the future saw me in the living room, with the kids and their partners home, a couple of grandkids playing with the toys I had purchased with just them in mind. I envisioned a tent in the backyard for the adventurous, a night under the stars. Food is cooking, filling the house with the aroma of home. Peace and joy are the feelings I conjured up when picturing this homecoming. And though it would be tight, we would all fit. The reality is quite different. Not everyone is home and home is not where I thought it would be. A couple are sleeping in the uninsulated garage (which happens to actually matter this year as we have a rare storm), one will be on the couch and two won't be coming home at all. There are no grandkids as of yet. What there is, in this tiny house of mine, is a lot ...

It is Thanksgiving eve and we are having a downpour. The total rain we have had so for is 0.21 inches FOR THE ENTIRE YEAR! We desperately need this rain. But tomorrow I am having 18 people come for a huge meal. My house is 900 sq. ft. I was counting on some outside access especially for the kidlets. Not sure how this is going to go but I'll put on my happy face and try to make the very best of it. The dogs, who are still trying to kill each other, are taken care of. Scruffy is going visiting with a lady who takes dogs in for a price. That way we don't have to worry about someone accidentally letting a dog loose. I would hate for the little ones to have to watch it. It's quite traumatizing. My boy from Portland is here with his partner and my boy from San Francisco will be here in a few short hours. Aside for the fact that they must stay in a leaky, cold garage, I am happy. My man is joyfully cooking. Wishing you a great day and a wonderful holiday if you are ...

I am reading a book called Motherless Daughters. So far, I find it is touching parts of me that I have tidily put away. I wasn't a child when I lost my mother but the child inside of me still needed her. That part that couldn't quite grow up, that piece that didn't trust the world or herself. I think of some of my friends who lost their mothers young or whose mothers were not able to be mothers for whatever reason and I ache for them even though, a few in particular, are incredibly strong women; far more well adapted for this world than I am. I remember my sister telling me that when a friend asked her about her family, she, without any forethought and with utter surprise, said, "I am an orphan". She was 55 and 57 when my parents died. I still miss my mom, 10 years on, but through counseling and ACA and healing, I don't sit in it and feel like I need her to come save me, hold me and comfort me in my pain. Now I miss her dear friendship and one of the few ...

The Boy Scout finished reading the World According to Garp to me and I enjoyed it tremendously. What a writer! I can't pick out any particular sentences, or point to a paragraph that I think was a masterpiece, but I was amazed at the depth in which Irving could make me feel. One minute such grief that a couple of times I had to ask him to stop reading, then dread and disappointment with the characters, and then with such hilarity that the Boy Scout was unable to read through the spasms of laughter and tears rolling down his face. Irving seems to love his characters but allows them to be so very human. Cannot wait to start A Prayer for Owen Meany but we thought we would mix it up a bit. Now we are navigating Peace Like a River by Leif Enger. Thus far, I am finding it to be subtle and quiet with a poinency that aches. Family, love, revenge and faith.....the writing is simply lovely. “Once in my life I knew a grief so hard I could actually hear it inside, scraping at the ...

I was a fairly controlling mom. I was cautious and careful, especially when the kids were very young. I wasn't the freewheeling "it'll all work out" kind of gal, although there is something to be said for that woman. When I was 33ish, we were at my mom's house playing in the complex pool. It was crowded, as my mom lived in a town called Santa Clarita, well known for getting pretty damn hot in the summer. I had my littlest in the pool in my arms (I started them young). My mom, my sister Sal and my other three kids were hanging by the stairs.  We were having a great time, talking, laughing.... good times with family. At some point I looked over to see Scotty, my 3 year old, trying to tread water, unable to get his head to break the surface. I yelled and started towards him. My mom or Sal scooped him up. I remember him sputtering with his big eyes open so wide in shock of it all. He was a confident little swimmer. I had started them all with lessons as infants...

My sweet mom suffered with ovarian cancer for over 7 years. When I say suffer, I mean suffer. When they first realized she had cancer, it was at a fairly advanced stage, which is not uncommon for ovarian. There are still no really good tests for it. Hers had grown and intersected her colon and bowels. The initial surgery require the removal of all things female and a portion of her intestinal tract. Massive surgery and then chemo followed right away. Sickness and all the things that come with chemo ensued. After that, there were the years of watching numbers go up and down and responding with new rounds of chemo. I think 5 total. All the while, she dealt with horrible bowel issues, weakness, loss of appetite, loss of hearing, chemo brain, recurring hospital trips for bowel blockages or dehydration.  She was nearly killed by an ICU nurse that double her morphine by accident, treated poorly by underpaid, overworked nurses and put up with God like egos from doctors. She also en...

One day, as a young child, I was visiting my cousins when I discovered that I had a grandpa I knew nothing about. When she was 17, my mom got pregnant with my oldest sister Pam. Mom’s disengaged, neglectful father disowned her. Being that he rarely talked with her anyways, I don’t know that it broke her heart, but she’s no longer with us so I can’t say for sure. My mother and my grandmother would get together, secretly, fairly often. I loved my happy, fun loving grandma Ruth. We met grandpa Virge for the first time somewhere around my eighth birthday. That would’ve made my sister Pam around 19! Talk about holding a grudge. Anyhoo, my grandparents eventually moved to a town called Yucca Valley, which is about an hour from Palm Springs, California. We would visit often, and although an introvert, Virge took a liking to me. He gave me a nickname and would allow me to sit in his studio while he worked on his art. All the years he made his wood enlay pictures, he never gave a single ...

Privilege: a right, immunity or benefit enjoyed only by a person beyond the advantages of some or most. When growing as a person, it seems important to take note of the extras I have in my life that are not afforded to many others. This, of course, includes the basics of food, water and shelter but beyond that there is so much more. Being a white, upper middle income woman affords me what many in this country do not have. There is responsibility to not only be grateful for but to recognize the advantages are so abundant that they add the duty of action on my part. To speak out, help out and love. My grateful list today: to love and be loved by someone good relationships with my kids faith access to healthcare knowing my kids will not be targeting because of how they look the ability to help my loved ones over life's hurdles a car that is reliable and the ability to repair it the honor of being able to help the hungry or homeless a home that is warm and relatively ...