Friday, December 28, 2018

While the Snow Gently Falls

What a beautiful morning. It is a quiet,peaceful day between Christmas day and New Years day requiring very little of me except to take it in and let it unfold. The snow is falling out side and I have decided to stay put and just enjoy this day. I will reflect on the blessings this season and this year have brought.I am awaiting the second round of edits for my eighth book, Fear of Drowning. I look forward to seeing some cover options in the next while. I saw the book written up on the Indigo site a few minutes ago with a anticipated release date of May 2019. How great is that? I read back to some of my first entries on this blog when I started it in 2011 which was before my first book was released.It is interesting how things change and stay the same. I just had my 62nd birthday and am so grateful for my health and all I have learned in my first 62 years. Yesterday I sat with my friend Gladys in the big room at her nursing home. A man had come in to entertain and every song he sang spoke loudly to me of so much. Gladys and I were among only a few of those residents who seemed able to participate. The music was reaching them all though I believe. I remembered how Mom could play her organ pretty much right up to her leaving home,how my Aunt Lois still responds to music even though her moments of clarity are few. Gladys was still able to tell me little morsels of entertaining stuff. Who was who in the room and so on. One song seemed to be perfect for dancing and we remembered her husband Eldon who loved to dance. I came away so thankful for so much and glad I made the time to drive to Hampton and visit Gladys.Today is another day I have been given and I will not take it for granted. Every day that came before and all the days I will yet be given add to the beauty of this one. A fresh snow will cover the ground and I will be snug inside my home not knowing what comes next but truly appreciating where I am right now in the life I have been blessed with.

Monday, December 24, 2018

What Christmas Really Is

You know what. Christmas is not a perfect family movie. There is not always a happy ending. Sometimes there is sadness, disappointment, hurt and anger. Sometimes there are tears and sleepless nights. Sometimes you find yourself wishing for something you believe you see in other people's stories, other people's Christmas photos and other people's lives. Sometimes you watch a platform filled with children and wish your grandchildren were standing there. Sometimes you wish your own small children still made up the crowd. Sometimes you sit in the sparkling light and wish you were a little girl again, possibly to have a do over or maybe just to appreciate what those childhood years held. Sometimes you squeeze your tear filled eyes together and conjure up a scene from the past. Your mother in her housecoat sitting at the end of your bed while your kids open their stockings. Your Dad uncovering the Kenmore sewing machine with your name on the tag on Christmas morning. Sometimes you just wish for a perfect Christmas , one made to order with all the moving parts exactly as you wish them to be. Sometimes... But Christmas is not any of those things while being all of those things. It is heartbreaking and heart mending, joyful and sorrowful, maddening and wonderful. Christmas is like every day of our complicated lives. It is all of the above and on this Christmas Eve 2018 I claim that and make the choice to be thankful for it all..

Thursday, December 13, 2018

My Mother's Voice

Last night a dream gave me something I have not had for a long time; the sound of my mother's voice.In my dream I was passed the phone , my parents were calling from Florida and it was Mom I heard on the other line. She spoke without a falter. I said "Mom you are speaking really well, are you on a new medication or is Florida just agreeing with you? I did not want the phone call to end or the dream to get over. My question this morning is why did I not treasure those days more when the daily phone calls would come. It was always Mom who called. Sometimes Dad would get on the line and say a word or two but Mom was the lifeline of news. That was always Mom's only condition; she would leave for the winter and be away for Christmas only if she could call me every day.Sometimes her calls would be inconvenient, I would feel her disapproval or she would voice a negative opinion but always I felt her love and concern for me and mine. Oh how much I miss that. Dad is in Florida alone this year. Reading in my journal from this time last December I remember how difficult things were for him, caring for Mom and the silence accompanying that . But this year the burden has lifted leaving loneliness in its place.But the memories remain, the sound of her voice still echoes in my ears and I am thankful for the call that came to me as I slept.Call again anytime Mom. Love you!

Sunday, December 9, 2018

So This is Christmas

The phrase"So this is Christmas" sounds somewhat sarcastic , negative , regretful but I do not mean it to sound that way. What I am feeling as December gets started and Christmas returns for another year is peace, joy and gratitude. I feel sorrow and nostalgia as well but that is a part of this beautiful time of the year. Last night I gathered with many to partake of a delicious turkey dinner offered freely by the folks at Kingston Baptist. That building and a lot of the faces I see there bring back so many memories of another time in my life. A time when I was raising four children and was an active part of that congregation. I sang in the choir ,taught Sunday school, helped with concerts. I was that young woman I saw herding kids and smiling last night. My kids were those excited, dressed up, nervous, adorable children standing on the platform singing their hearts out. Last night it was my grandson and as far as I'm concerned he was the star of the show. His red shirt and plaid tie ,his sparkling eyes and his huge smile radiated from the stage and into my heart. I was so blessed to be in that place. My granddaughter beamed with excitement after holding her new baby cousin. My older grandson kept his excitement under wraps as fourteen year old boys do. I sit here this morning with the sun streaming through my office window and reflect on every Christmas that has passed and on the gifts I will receive this Christmas.My warm comfortable home is decorated . The lights twinkle yet again and I await the blessings of Christmas. I add to lists of tasks to be completed, last minute shopping to do and events to attend. I hear Christmas music ( some ridiculously controversial) and some heart wrenching. The gifts I receive are not the wrapped gifts that will be placed under the tree but the treasured gifts of family and friends, of bittersweet memories, of loved ones missing and years gone by."So this is Christmas and what have we done, another year older a new one just begun."

Thursday, November 29, 2018

Wednesdays With Gladys

Mitch Albom had a great idea when he chose to spend one afternoon a week with an elderly friend.My goal is too follow the pattern and take advantage of a source of wisdom and information that will not always be available. Gladys looks down the tunnel toward death almost very day. She is in her 96th year and she is ever mindful of the next passage . She buried her husband almost forty years ago. She has buried her five beloved sisters and two brothers and her parents of course. For the last year she has resided in the Dr. Snow nursing home and has been thankful for the care and comfort they provide. She has by all accounts more visitors than any other resident. She will quickly tell you she has more than fifty descendants and they are a wonderful close and caring family. But by times Gladys is lonely and fretful. This is a woman who has always been surrounded by family. During wartime when husbands were overseas the six sisters moved from house to house to be there for one another.Gladys is the last one standing, or sitting and finds herself waiting with some fear and trepidation. All that being said she still remains one of the most entertaining and captivating people you could possibly spend a couple of hours with. She has amazing recall for detail and can summon up a memory with superb clarity. Yesterday she dug out her 1944 diary to answer one of my questions.As she searched her memory bank for events of that year I held the small book. Several times she would get me to check a date while recalling something. " Check January 12th. Margaret went to the hospital. Betty and Ray were married. Then she would flesh out that day as if it were yesterday or last week. Over and over she would say a date, unravel her thoughts and I would find the exact details on the page. Impressive and astounding to a journal keeper and writer like myself.Stories pour out of this woman and all one needs to do is gently open the tap. Gladys has a death book;a book where one can find the date people died. She has Rosemary Clooney, Adolph Hitler, my son , my mother, her sisters, my Great Uncle Wilfred. She has the book organized in alphabetical order.To some this might seem macabre or weird but I see it as a gift of one woman's attention to the value of remembering, of recording and realizing passages of birth and death define us all. I can only hope I have many Wednesdays with Gladys and am sorry I waited so long .

Tuesday, November 27, 2018

Not Just a House

It is gone! In May 2004 my friend Barb made the same announcement regarding my childhood home at 619 Regent St.It had been torn down and she unceremoniously, although not without compassion, told me as we stood in the crowded gym at the MCS reunion. I was heartbroken about the disappearance of a house I drove by every time I went to Fredericton. A few years before I had persuaded Burton to stop so I could ask the young man washing his car in the backyard if I could walk through my childhood home which was now student housing. I took my good old time and walked through, filing each room carefully in my memory. I had the same experience a week ago in a different house of my childhood .I have watched for over twenty five years as my Great Aunt Alice's house stood empty and defenseless to the attack of the elements. I longed to walk though the back door again but of course what I was really longing for was my Aunt Alice greeting me , serving me gingersnaps and ginger ale. I longed to see my Great Uncle Wilfred resting on his cot in the dining room or calling up to us from the open trap door in the pantry. I longed to unpack my little suitcase in the bedroom above the kitchen and sleep for the nights of my visit in the bedroom that in my imagination was the room Anne came to her first night at Green Gables. I longed to walk into the parlor on Boxing day and find my sweet Aunt Alice still trimming her Christmas tree. I wanted to stand by the kitchen window looking toward the orchard and the beautiful stretch of river beyond as I dried dishes.I longed to watch Wilfred limp in with an armload of wood filling the wood box then sitting at the kitchen table, his unbending leg stretched out as he poured his tea into his saucer before sipping it.Their great nephew on Wilfred's side allowed me to accompany him a few days ago so I could enter this house which looms so large and meaningful in my childhood memories. I am heartbroken and tears stream down my cheeks as I write this. It is gone! another Barb just told me with a phone call and again not without compassion.Both houses have already made their way into my writing and two of my works in progress that I keep going back and forth to these fall days of 2018 have my Aunt Alice's house front and center. Perhaps someday the house will be really gone for me but I somehow doubt it. Because the house which now is smoldering rubble waiting to be covered with dirt and gone, will never be gone as long as my memories remain. A framed picture sits on top of my desk and I can still see Alice coming out the door onto the veranda, her full apron covering her house dress . She calls Wilfred in to supper and a little girl follows her inside.

Monday, November 26, 2018

About Time

One of my favorite movies is "About Time". I have watched this movie many many times.Spending time with the story, the characters , the wisdom of that movie always fills my heart and drains my tear ducts. Last night was no exception. The time travelling main character and his father can go back to previous days , previous experiences , mistakes , and have a do over. They can also go back and truly appreciate the day that passed in a blur or in the throes of stress, worry or frustration. The most moving scene in the movie is when the father and son break the rules and go all the way back to a day when the boy was a child. The father and son walk along a path toward the ocean's edge and throw rocks, wade knee deep in the water and sit together on the shore. The days that matter I used to call them. There are so many days I would revisit to fix, to change, to alter the course. But just as the character learns changing the past drastically changes the present and the future and of course is not in our control. But reclaiming a single day would be so nice. Memories, journals, photographs can give us a glimpse of those treasured days. For me it is a day in January, New Years day actually. I have a toddler on a sled I'm pulling down a snowy wood road. My six year old son, my five year old nephew and my nine year old daughter zig zag along the trail in and out of the woods and deep snow, the noon sun strong in the blue sky above. We are taking a picnic lunch to my husband and my thirteen year old son who are working in the woods. We stopped just a ways away from where that six year old boy as a man has now built his beautiful home . We lay out the picnic. We sit on a log, eat sandwiches, drink hot chocolate. When New Years day 2019 comes it will be twenty seven years from that sunny afternoon. So many days and years have passed but the treasure of that day remains and can not be taken from us.It is all 'about time'

Monday, November 19, 2018

I Love November

My heart is full. I feel like the little girl in a commercial for something that was on TV a few years ago who recites all the things she loves in her life.This is an exercise we all should participate in every day. Today for me the list seems long. I could possibly write a matching list for worries, disappointments, imperfections and failures but I refuse to concentrate on those lists . I just heard a piece on CBC about the passing of William Goldman. I may have missed some of the details but he wrote Princess Bride and I zeroed in on the facts about the making of that movie. I love the movie Princess Bride. I love the memories of watching it with my kids and their attachment to it. I love the memory of one line of dialogue in particular that my daughter misquoted.I love Mandy Patinkin. I love that my granddaughters loved the movie as we watched it together this summer.I love Mondays and time in my office. I love the anticipation of beginning the edits on my next book. I love the privilege I have of finding judges for our upcoming WFNB Writing Competition. I love giving writers a chance to submit their work find their confidence and make their way. It all starts with a story worth telling . Yesterday I went to hear Douglas Gibson. He was so personable, so warm and witty and so knowledgeable about so much of Canada's literary past.He told wonderful little stories about Alice Munro, W.O. Mitchell, Alistair MacLeod just to name a few. And he told sweet stories about himself.I love that before that I got to attend the morning service at the Long Reach United Church. This quaint little church sits on a hill overlooking the beautiful Saint John River and holds a special place in my heart. Looking out the window at the stunning view and gazing at the gorgeous woodwork and lovely embossed ceiling while the church filled with song prayer and fellowship filled my heart. I watched as Tony and Tracey stood with their precious little boy to have him baptized and welcomed into the family of relatives and neighbors filling the pews. I love all that means , all the ties to past , present and future. I felt honored to have been there and witness the water dripping on little Jack's head.I love where I am in my life , my story and how all the pieces connect.I love a snow cover that makes me feel the tug of winter, of sparkling lights, rum and eggnog, of Christmas.I love that my nephew is tackling the cleaning and organizing of our basement. I could write an entire blog about our basement but I prefer to stay away from it physically, emotionally and psychologically.I love possibility, goals and steps forward.

Thursday, November 15, 2018

Always Missing Them

I was fired up to write this entry after listening to the news this morning but mellowed a bit when in my news feed I read a post from a friend. Today that friend writes that fourteen years ago they lost a huge part of their lives when they lost their son.On the news report the reporter said " even after 25 years they still miss their daughter" This is a family who faced the disappearance of their daughter, the finding of what they are told are her remains and the horror of knowing she had been murdered. And the reporter says even after 25 years they still miss her. Statements like that really piss me off. I want to scream and ask every parent if their child no matter what age they are are still a part of their lives and their thoughts. So why do people assume that after years pass you will not miss them.Cut off an arm and you will miss it forever. I know people realize this but why are statements dismissing that loss so casually made. Shortly after Zac died I saw a newspaper photograph of a mother who lost her son at the Kent State University shootings which was over thirty years ago at the time. I was overcome by the sorrow on her face. I put that photo on my bulletin board . It told me two things; a mother can survive and go on,and a mother's sorrow never ends.That is all I've got to say this morning!

Thursday, November 8, 2018

Closing Time

" You can't stay here."I began this entry over a week ago. After a wonderful retreat which took me away from this continent, across the ocean and to a lovely villa in Italy I had just arrived back home hours before. With so much to process, a tired and weary body and brain I woke up with a line from the song Closing Time. Right away my thoughts went to two beautiful women no longer with us. Later that day I would gather with others to celebrate the life of Irene McWhirter. Irene lived her 91 years with grace, elegance and humor. She always presented herself at her very best. She and Mom were good friends and shared many good times together. Now they have both left us.It was their time to go.Yesterday I told my daughter about a man who just died in our community. I said he was young,72. She commented. " We are calling 72 young now?" I quickly said yes. Funny how the view of young and old changes as one ages.So many viewpoints change as we change. I have now traveled to Europe and see the possibilities for future travel being wide open to me. I have with my own eyes seen the beautiful landscape of Italy, stood before ancient architecture, history and renowned paintings and statues. I stood within arms length of Michelangelo's David.I spent a week in the cradle of the Renaissance. Each day brought its own special gifts and then the week wound down. In a rainstorm we left our villa in the middle of the night and drove to the airport. My wonderful Italy experience came to a close and I came home.I had a dream last night that I was taken back to 1986. In my dream I quickly assessed the fact that Zac would be almost eight, Meg was four and Chapin was one. I let the dream take me back to those days and woke up so disappointed that while awake I can only get a brief memory of those days. They passed so quickly." You can't stay here." This day , November 8.,2018 will unfold and be gone. It will be just one tiny fraction of the life I will live. Closing time will come as it has come for Mom and Irene. My past days are only available in memory and sometimes in dreams.So it behooves us all to be here while we are here. Live to your best self, dream the dreams, eat the cake, travel to Italy, love the people in your life in every single stage and in all things be thankful!Stand in front of the beauty you see every day and marvel at the gift you have been given.

Sunday, October 21, 2018

A Beautiful Stay at Home Day

Zac used to have a tee shirt that said 'My sit around and do absolutely nothing shirt'. I don't have a shirt that says that and I rarely sit and do nothing but today I would want my tee shirt to say 'Stay home and do next to nothing and only do what I feel like doing'. Way too long and not a catchy slogan but today my last day before my Italy trip is going to be whatever I feel like it being. Yesterday I went to the market. It was slow and definitely winding down for the season. The blustery weather felt appropriate for the change of season.I only sold three books but enjoyed the morning. I will miss my market mornings. Dad came over for breakfast and on the 20th anniversary of the market it seemed fitting to see the man there that was such a part of building it and helping it thrive in those twenty years.Burton picked Dad up and together they prepared the place for Mom's burial. We met as a family and laid her to rest at around 3:00. The clouds parted , blue sky appeared and the sun shone brightly down upon us. We stood in that small churchyard overlooking the beautiful Saint John river and said our goodbyes. It was perfect.We came back and talked and ate together and reflected on the journey. I am proud to say we faced the last months together as a strong and loving family unit each one stepping up to do what each day and hour required of them. I do believe Mom would be proud of each one of us. Now as we find our way toward what comes next we take that confidence and closeness with us. So today I will settle. I will try to rest and regroup and prepare for another type of journey. This journey will see me board a plane and leave this continent for the first time. I am so looking forward to whatever lies ahead and believe I have made all the necessary preparations. I am so thankful for the opportunity and the perfect timing of this excursion. I will not be gone long and must say I am so looking forward to the coming home and the hunkering down for a winter of writing and doing what I feel like doing. Arrivederci!

Thursday, October 18, 2018

Two Sam's, Six Future Nurses and an Author at Starbucks

Book clubs come in all shapes and sizes. Yesterday's book club came in the shape of six future nurses.I met the group at a long table in the west side Starbucks. From the first moment I joined them it became evident that the little book they were holding had made a big impact. How thrilling for this author, this teacher and this mother.I asked first how they had stumbled upon The Year Mrs. Montague Cried and was so pleased to hear it was given to them as part of a list of books to choose for the study and presentation they were required to do for one of their classes.It thrilled me even more to hear that as they tried to find enough copies of the book,former nursing students who had used the book in previous years were unwilling to part with their copies. I have often said that the measure of a good book for me is one that I hug closely to my heart after I finish reading it and one I place in my book shelf so I can return to it whenever I want to.Yesterday I signed the student's own copies for them and take such joy in knowing they feel the same way about my little book.I say little book because it is a slim volume of just 158 pages ; a quick read of short journal entries,but it packs a punch. The questions and discussion of so many aspects of the story was proof of that and even the girl at the other end of the table who was not involved in the book club was caught up in the power of this little book. I am proud of this of course but see the story within the pages as much more than my story. It is the universal story of love , loss, family, suffering, fear, laughter and courage, challenge and accomplishment.Thank you for inviting me fourth year students, future nurses and caregivers. Thanks Jenn, Jenna, Scott, Sam , Sam and Huijin for letting one little book speak volumes about the caring, compassion and understanding needed in your chosen profession.

Sunday, October 14, 2018

So Glad for October

"I'm so glad I live in a world where there are Octobers. It would be terrible if we just skipped from September to November,wouldn't it? " (Chapter sixteen of Anne Of Green Gables).As I look out my office window at the cacophony of color in the field and in the hills across the road I second Anne's sentiment. I have always loved October but this year especially my soul needs this month to recover.On this beautiful, sunny, October Sunday morning I take stock and rejoice in the gift October is to me.I have a crock of baked beans slowly cooking in the oven and will fashion a Sunday supper feast available to any of my loved ones who gather in.I will walk the wood road above my house as last week I somehow missed the opportunity to take the benefits a wood road walk always offers. I guess rain and cold and circumstance robbed me of that but today I will make it a priority. Yesterday I went to the market then into the city for two book signings. Book signings are not my favorite aspect of the writing life but really as I have stated before it is a privilege even when it feels futile and the plethora of books surrounding you makes you feel like an inconsequential insect ; a small bug under glass hoping someone might find your species interesting. That sounds a bit dramatic but signings do give one lots of thinking time. I have a habit of conducting tallies as I watch people go by. Yesterday I tallied Mothers and Daughters, mothers and sons, scarves,and ponytails. Too much time on my hands obviously. But with that being said I had memorable interactions and sold a few books. I met a woman named Lois and we had a lovely chat. She bought Waiting For Still Water.I had two Aunt Lois', one on each side of the family. I loved them both but after talking to yesterday's Lois I recalled the day Zac died when I asked my sister in law to call my Aunt Lois. When she returned from making that call her words describing my aunt's reaction alerted me immediately to the fact that she had contacted the wrong Aunt Lois. I asked her to call the other one and within the appropriate travel time my Aunt Lois arrived at my door. Recalling the moment she , my Uncle Bernie and my cousin Joy walked through the door still makes me weep.Back to the beauty of October. How can the palate of leaves be so amazing that each shade flickers and sparkles in the sunshine. It is a splendid last dance before the trees stand bare and colorless in November . They give up their beauty knowing it will be crystals of snow and ice on stage next.This year October speaks loudly to me of those stages we experience in our own existence. My mother's outward beauty had its day , had its dance and as her life waned the luster diminished. But as I looked at my mother in those last days I saw a beauty beyond the adornments of hair and jewelry and fashion. I saw the lasting beauty of who she was and the mark she left on those who knew her. Ok enough already. I will take this beautiful day and savor it. I will cook and clean, watch my husband as he begins to carry in our winter's wood taking great joy in my surroundings and the gift of October.

Thursday, October 11, 2018

Go With the Flow

Apparently yesterday was Mental Health Awareness Day.I think it is great that there is a day set aside for a dialogue about mental illness. I do however feel it is a dialogue we need to have every day with ourselves and with our loved ones. Mental wellness certainly requires an inner chat every day. It is a daily ongoing struggle to put that wellness front and center, to find the crucial tools for dealing with the highs and lows, the pitfalls and to give ourselves permission to be exactly however we are day by day. The inner struggle requires lots of dialogue and lots of acceptance.We need to be as kind to ourselves as we strive to be to others. It is ok to not be ok. In a life that ebbs and flows with joy, sorrow, challenge and victory it is perfectly normal to falter and fail and flounder. Cling to your own lifeline while taking hold of the help others offer. There is no easy , right way to journey through this life and even though it sometimes looks like everyone else has it figured out we are all swimming in the same uncertain waters.

Thursday, October 4, 2018

The Faces of Love

I am weary but again feel compelled to sit at the keyboard. I expect many of my blog entries in the next while will echo the sorrow of loosing my Mom. There is grieving to do and it will unfold and take shape as I drag my weary self into the next weeks and months. This morning as I scrolled through my FB feed I came upon the picture of two of the most precious women in my life. Their smiles, their eyes, the tilt of their heads were the same. One a grandmother, the other a beloved granddaughter on her wedding day. As the mother of one and daughter of the other I can look deeply into the faces in that picture and feel the love. I recall making the phone call to tell that grandmother a baby girl had been born. I also recall my mother standing at the window watching as we drove or rather as the tractor pulled our truck up the driveway in a blizzard so we could take the trip to the hospital the April night that baby girl was born. I also recall that grandmother's reaction as the big brother announced a second baby was due." Don't be ridiculous" was the quote that became a famous one in our family. The practical grandmother doubted our wisdom to have a second child while still living in a small shed, with dreams of building our forever house on the property Burton's father had given him so he could fulfill his dream of having a farm. Oh boy I'm diving deep in the emotional pool this morning. Back to the faces and the love these two women held for one another.On this my granddaughter's birthday I think of my attempt to be the kind of grandmother my Mom was to my daughter.The devotion of time, of worry , of concern ,unconditional love and caring interest was constant.I see all that in my mother's eyes as she stands beside her granddaughter . Mom's speech had already faltered and her words were not plenty that day but she was beaming with pride and happiness.We filled picture boards for display at the funeral parlor. The photographs exist as evidence of the years of love and devotion. Compiling those photographs reminded me of the importance of taking(and printing) pictures especially in our smartphone digital age, but more importantly it made me think of the value of making lasting memories with those we love.These are my thoughts on this particular day as I receive news of the birth of a new great niece and speak on the phone to my seven year old granddaughter before she heads out the door for school on her birthday day. A legacy of family and love will keep this tired body going and propel me ahead. Oh and my nine year old granddaughter is reading The Sewing Basket. How thrilling to hear her reflections as she discovers the familiar in those pages.The many faces of love.

Sunday, September 30, 2018

On This Another Sunday

I do not have the time or the energy to give this day its due in this entry but feel the need to be at my keyboard. We will participate in a visitation this afternoon, a daunting task ahead , but a task of love and loyalty and one I still value despite changing views concerning the traditions surrounding the death of a loved one. The two days we spent receiving people when Zac died were exhausting and excruciating but remain a treasure in my heart. Today is Mom's day and I will take the time to process all that follows in some other blog entry. So on this Sunday morning I will focus on the hours ahead and rely on the support of family,friends and strangers all of whom will gather to pay tribute to the life of Iva Bradley.

Tuesday, September 25, 2018

Heated Floors, Warm Covers and Socks

September has almost come to an end. The evenings and mornings are cool bordering on cold. This morning when I got up I turned on the heated floor in the bathroom which had been turned off during the hot summer months. What a joy to feel the heat on my bare feet. Making the transition from Summer to Fall is such a blessing. Burton and I talked this morning about the task he has ahead of him to fill the far wall and corner of our basement with firewood. Another season of warmth and blessing. It is time to add another blanket to the bed and enjoy nights under warm covers. Most of the summer sleeping involved trying to stay cool and now we look for the opposite.Thanksgiving approaches and hopefully our traditional trek to Kings Landing will take place. Saturday night we welcomed a good sized crowd to our annual corn boil. We laughed and ate and celebrated Burton's 65th birthday. His cousin brought him a Happy Birthday 5 Year old and inserted x 13 to make it fit the occasion. He also got a Happy 40 year old card with the added remark" with 25 years experience. We have experience, we have had many seasons and much to reflect upon. We have been blessed with children and grandchildren, family and friends.We have fulfilled dreams and aspirations and continue to dream and aspire.We have the blessing of a comfortable home and a safe and supportive community. We have food to eat and clean water to drink.We can don sweaters and hoodies , long pants and socks. This advent of fall is also carrying the final days of decline for my beloved mother. Her days are winding down and I pray for comfort, for grace and for the strength we need to face what lies ahead for our family.Today with my mother in my heart I will clean my home bottom to top taking each room and each task as the blessing it truly is. I will also hold in my thoughts the hundreds of people facing the destruction of the tornado that descended on Ottawa. How quickly the life we take for granted can change can be uprooted and forever altered. So relish the ordinary day , the predictable change of the seasons and the tedious tasks of our lives. There is such blessing in the day by day of the life we have given.

Monday, September 24, 2018

Invited to the 'Bookquet'

Last night I was welcomed into Kim's family room and into a circle of ladies called the Bookquet of Friends book club. They have been gathering as a book club for 17 years so have probably read approximately 170 books. Last night they gathered to discuss Maple Sugar Pie by Susan White. What a thrill for this author. I have in the past seen posts from authors who have had negative experiences when asked to visit a book club. Some have been bombarded with criticism , confrontation and condemnation. So far this has not been my experience when asked to participate in book club discussions. Last night the descriptors I would use would be generous, curious, insightful and supportive. A meaningful discussion of character, plot and personal experiences unfolded in a natural way and I came away richer for it. The room held a plethora of family stories and generational wisdom. I particularly loved the story Anne told of the uncle who when chastised by his wife for not removing his muddy boots before entering their house chose to move down the road to his brother's house where he could do whatever he pleased. Tell me that shouldn't find its way into a book some day.So this morning I find myself back at my desk which is one of my favorite places to be. By the way with the feel of the temperature last night and this morning I believe my lake swims are over for another season and I am sorry I didn't make more of my last swim. As wonderful as it was I did not give the lake the attention it was due . I can only hope for another season to come.So back to work and back to the great privilege of finding the words , sentences, chapters and the story that awaits. Nights like last night fuel that process and make me anxious to get to it. Thank you Kim, Anne, Nancy, Denise, Kelly, Karen , Monica, Jennifer, Gail, Christine, and Andrea.

Friday, September 21, 2018

When Cousins are Friends

Monday night Burton and I went to Moncton to have supper with some of my Wetmore cousins.My Mom was a Wetmore; Iva Mae Wetmore which precipitated much teasing in her younger years.Mom had one brother Elmer and three sisters, Beulah, Luella and Lois.Three of Beulah's kids, one of Luella's , two of Lois' and two of Iva's kids attended. Dad was the only representative of his generation. It was a great evening of catching up , sharing memories , eating and laughing which of course is what makes up every good get-together. Yesterday my three cousins from Ontario( Buelah's kids ) drove to Saint John to visit Mom in the nursing home. She lit up in their presence.Her face held a perpetual grin and even without speech it was clear she was enjoying their visit. Many years have passed since Mom held David who was the first nephew born and always the special boy. Mom held him in high esteem referencing the fact that she was 15 when he was born. Ivoo was the name he attached to her. To to sit with a ninety year old Ivoo and her precious seventy some year old nephew was magic. The bond of family, of aunts, uncles and cousins is a strong and priceless bond. On my drive home I thought a lot about cousins. If we are lucky enough to grow up with cousins close by or at least have a yearly connection, we have friends for life. These Ontario cousins of mine have not been a part of my adult life but the memories of earlier days and the strong thread our mothers tied us together with over the years keeps us connected. Only two of the four sisters are still with us and both have been distanced from us with cognitive impairment. But the love remains. The flicker of recognition, the twinkle of joy , the stamp of years of caring and attention is clearly visible.David told Mom " You always called me on my birthday " several times during the visit.I have a range of connection to my cousins ( 13 first cousins). There are a couple of them I keep in contact with regularly. I know their kids and grand kids , their dogs and cats.One I often run into at Costco,some I keep in touch with by e-mail or Facebook, a couple I see every few years,some I have not seen for a long time ,possibly only at family funerals and wouldn't know if I fell over them. But even within that range of relationship lies the bond of being cousins. I picked up an old book of mine that Emma was reading this summer and the inscription said my cousins Greg and Wayne gave it to me Christmas of 1968.I know Mom and her sisters tried hard to pass on the closeness they had for each other to their kids, hoping that the cousins stayed connected. I now see my son and daughter and watch their kids fostering the cousin relationships and hope those relationships grow and flourish. I think of Burton and Louisa's kids and the strong bond they have.I have heard it said 'You can pick your friends but you can't pick your family'. Cousins happen upon us and we can choose to embrace that ready made relationship or not. Distance , time and circumstance sometimes keeps us apart but the bond remains. Happy birthday today to my cousin Larry who is a cousin on Dad's side. Our closeness as kids faded and we lived our lives far apart but the last few years we have become aware of just how strong the bond between us remains. Larry , and son,his wife and her son have sat at our table twice in the last few years and I am thankful for that time together. We have held each other up with encouragement and caring.We walk different paths but the path we started on together remains." You always called me on my birthday" seems like a small thing but in fact makes all the difference.

Monday, September 17, 2018

Off to the Fair

Another Monday morning and another moment to reflect, take stock and be thankful. September is a month of beauty , of change, of harvest and so much more. One of our September traditions when the kids were young was a trip to the Gagetown Fair.The country fair of livestock, horses, tractors, produce, baking and handcrafts, rides and fairground food has basically stayed unchanged and holds the same attraction it did years ago. This year Burton and I and our friend Alice had a beautiful drive up crossing at the Evandale ferry and winding our way up the scenic river road. We thought of the low lying areas thinking of how May's flood had impacted them. We drove by busy apple stands and orchards and upon arrival joined the crowd of fair goers milling about . We watched the Ox pull competition marveling at the strength of the massive animals and the skill of the teamsters.We greeted Chapin, Bri , Jac and the kids taking great pleasure in another generation's enjoyment of this country fair. Anthony celebrated his birthday with two friends as they ran from ride to ride .We watched the little kids smiling ear to ear while on their rides. Alice and I walked past baking and crafts exhibits. I remember as a young bride and mother feeling challenged by similar exhibits. Yesterday I felt at a different stage , 'a been there done that' stage which definitely carried over when we viewed the school exhibits. I remember years ago getting art ideas and Language Arts project ideas when I looked at the student's work. Now I look at the kid's work more as a grandmother . Funny how the fair has stayed the same and I have changed . One thing that hasn't changed is my desire to leave with a candy apple. Bites into the hard red candy covering the juicy apple tasted and felt just like it always did. I love that my son and his wife are now the parents taking kids by the hand and walking through the gates of the Gagetown Fair. A simple country fair stills holds an afternoon of family fun and excitement. Oh how things change and stay the same.

Monday, September 10, 2018

When the Time is Right

Best laid plans are just that. Life has a way of reminding us of this and the lessons of patience and trust are constantly being delivered. I am a list maker, a goal setter and a bit of a worrier. ( the bit part might be not quite strong enough) I am learning but very,very slowly that worrying does not change the outcome of much. A big worry of the last few weeks has been my Mom's health , my Dad's ability to keep caring for her, a nursing home placement and a stay in the hospital which was needed to hydrate her, manage an infection and address other concerns.Today she left the hospital and moved in to her room at the St. John St . Stephen nursing home. A page has been turned in her story and as so much else we face it didn't turn exactly how we envisioned it. Dad has been given some days to come to terms with the change and now we will put our attention into making it the best home for Mom at this time.Mom's hospital stay gave me something I didn't expect. I have spent so much time in the last two weeks staring into my mother's eyes and watching the hands that so lovingly cared for me. She is still in there and I treasure the time I have spent feeding her and holding her hands. I have done all the talking but when she turns her head toward me and stares into my eyes I know she sees me and loves me as deeply as she ever did.Today I took my 75th swim of the season and let the waters of my beloved lake envelop me and remind me of my place under the vast sky.I float and look to that sky knowing the truth of my insignificance and my inability to alter a plan much bigger than any list I could ever write.I give thanks for the assurance that in all things I can look to a higher power who keeps the water flowing , the sun shining and the stars in the sky.

Sunday, September 2, 2018

September has Arrived

The air has a slight coolness, the days are getting shorter and school starts on Tuesday. September has arrived. I love September. It used to and still does hold an excitement and an expectant feeling of change and challenge. I sit this morning and reflect on the summer days that have passed. What a beautiful summer it was . So much sun, swimming, grandchildren enjoying, road trip adventures, family time and good food. But as much as I hate to see the end of all that and dread giving up my lake I am so looking forward to the coming season. We have challenges to face with Mom's health and declining abilities. We hope to see her settled into a nursing home and hope to assist Dad in facing his new normal without his wife of seventy years near his side. We have three family birthdays to celebrate and a granddaughter to watch as she begins kindergarten. I look forward to the after school bus time to see three of my grandchildren get off the bus and hear about their days. Burton will get back to the woods and I will be back at my desk. I look forward to beginning book number twelve and start work on the edits of book number eight. I anticipate a trip to Italy in October. I will have school visits, book signings and WFNB's WordsFall. I will continue market Saturdays and meet new and loyal readers. I will make enough of my mother's beloved mustard pickles to get four households through the winter.I will think ahead to Christmas with the anticipation of Chapin and Bri's house bursting with excitement. I will write my weekly letters linking my far away granddaughters to the comings and goings on the Walton Lake Road.I remember my mat leave of 1985. Labor Day weekend brought the birth of our third child and when I brought my baby home I began a beautiful fall of caring for my precious family within the walls of our trailer our big house not yet started but being dreamt about. Dreams that become reality are the hope of every season and I think about the season ahead while being very thankful for the one that is about to end. A few more lake swims, a few more days of hot sun and summer breezes will slowly give way to a kaleidoscope of leaves, wood road walks,first lighting of the furnace and Fall welcoming Winter.

Wednesday, August 22, 2018

Home Sweet Home

Not much time to write this morning but I feel the need to take a quick reflection and jot down some thoughts before embarking on the day ahead. It is move in day. Mom will walk through the doors of what will probably be her last home on earth. She has crossed the threshold of many homes since leaving her childhood home. A little house in Lewisville, a new house built by her husband on Story Rd. , a green bungalow on Broadway, a rented home in Fredericton , another in Saint John, a renovated house on Bradley Lane and a another new house built by her husband,her son's cottage , a renovated small cottage and today's destination. I know it would serve me better if I was to not become sentimental and overly emotional. I am the daughter and I must take charge and support my Dad as this move is so huge and so difficult for him.As they approach their 70th wedding anniversary they will for the first time live under separate roofs, sleep in separate beds miles away from one another.As predicted this brings me to tears and I must for right now muster my strength and do the practical without allowing the personal to flood my brain. This new home does not take away the stories of the former homes, does not erase the woman of the house who took such pride and pleasure in each one. The woman who hosted hundreds and pre-scooped her ice cream still exists and today we find her a place of care and rest. May I step up and be what both my parents need me to be today.

Sunday, August 19, 2018

After the Rain

We have gotten quite used to saying "we need rain" over the last few weeks of a very dry , sunny and hot summer. This morning I woke to the sun , cooler temperatures and puddles. Yesterday's rain was steady and gave the ground a good soaking. Sitting here this morning I think of all the petitions and prayers we make. I think of the energy we put into worrying and wanting things to be different, to be the way we want them, when we want them and how we are sometimes unable or unwilling to see the blessings we are given when they come. As people entered the market yesterday dripping wet I heard lots of grumbling indicating that the rain we so needed came at an inconvenient time or day.It is so human to want something so badly but be unhappy with the timing or the delivery of exactly what we wanted.We are struggling as a family to know the right course of action to accommodate Mom's declining health and Dad's exhaustion in caring for her. We want things to fall into place at just the right time. We flounder a bit wanting things to be the way they were. As Dad approaches his 70th wedding anniversary he feels the sorrow of what he has lost and the wife he has loved who ,because of her disease, is now so far from his grasp. He feels the pain of letting her go and giving her care over to someone else.We have prayed for this rain and now we must embrace it and be thankful for it.

Sunday, August 12, 2018

The Gift of Another Day

This morning I reflect on the week that just passed. This week Fredericton became the scene of unimaginable horror. Two brave officers were gunned down and two citizens became victims of an angry and heartless gunman. The unimaginable became real and our vulnerability surfaced again. We rely on the police to come to our aid in so many circumstances. We also rely on human decency and compassion for it is the fragile line that keeps us safe from insanity and violence. Two brave officers stepped up to handle a situation and were slaughtered while doing so. It is the horror and danger of the job. The string of countless days of uneventful,challenging and rewarding shifts that end and see them safely home came violently to an end and has left two families mourning. Two victims lost their lives and leave behind loved ones. Ten children were robbed of a parent. Fredericton's peace and security was stolen and shaken to the core. So many people were affected and four people lost their lives and the gift of another day was taken from them with the bullets shot from a gun. Whatever the motive or mindset of the shooter his action violently took something from us all. We are all aware that life is fragile, that accidents and illness can take those we love and we all know how precious the gift of another day is. But when that gift is violently taken it leaves us in shock and disbelief and anger that one human being can cause such loss and misery. Let us pray for each other, carry each other and attempt to uphold the caring and compassion of a decent society.And may each one of us be truly thankful for the gift of another day.

Friday, August 3, 2018

And Now It's August

It is a quiet Friday morning. Paige had a sleepover at her great Aunt Louisa's and Em is still asleep. My head is somewhat swirling with thoughts and a bit foggy. The heat and humidity faces us again today and trips to the lake ,one very shortly and possibly alone, are in order. August is a month I embrace and these next few days I will prepare for the girl's departure while looking ahead to several social commitments and ultimately getting back to work at the end of the month. I am finding myself more frequently thinking of the book I plan to start when I return to my desk. I am looking ahead to my Italy trip in October and pondering the work I will approach there.My mother's future is on my mind.I need to take a deep breath and go from where I am right at this moment. No giving up, no giving in to doubts, fears and insecurities. Soldier on Burton always says. I see the possibilities but will take these last few days of summer with our girls as reason enough to just relax and enjoy.Our garden has not done well this year. Late planting and extremely dry weather was not a good mix . Except for my kitchen garden I have given up on it and whatever small harvest comes will be a bonus. In some ways this has been freeing. I am thankful our winter's food does not depend on the rows of vegetables we planted or it would be a very hard winter. I am so thankful for so much and it is from that mindset I look to this day and this month and all that stretches ahead. But first a dip in the lake.

Tuesday, July 24, 2018

Why PEI ?

We just came home from another great family trip to PEI. Last night with family we re-visited memories of previous trips trying to build a timeline and fill in details of the history of these trips. Sunday night we met and chatted with a neighboring camper who was herself from PEI and was there with her husband's family She asked the question "Why PEI?"Interesting question and it got me thinking. We could of course gather everyone together at one of our houses, bring food, play games, swim somewhere, stay up late , let the kids run and play, and spend time together. But we wouldn't. A vacation however forces you to do all those things and most of all make memories. So why PEI? Both Burton and I have childhood memories of vacations in PEI. I always point out(as Paige reminded me) the cabins we stayed in and the memory of my cousin Janet ,my brother Ken and I getting our picture taken on the small veranda in front. Burton recalls he and his siblings finding stray kittens on a beach and bringing the wild beasts home in the car with five little kids. Last night we pooled our memories and came up with years, locations and lists of those in attendance and when I got home I combed my summer journals for clarification of dates and details.The cabins we just returned from have been our choice for the last ten years with a couple of missing years for various reasons none of us were sure of. What we were sure of was the value and importance of the years we managed to pull a crew together and go to PEI.A priceless investment actually and the tourism and draw of Cavendish just a backdrop to the family time we spent watching our own children grow, our grandchildren bonding and our nieces ,nephews and great nieces and nephews interacting. Treasures like Ronnie on the roller coaster, new babies being passed around, young married couples joining the adult ranks, new family being warmly embraced,lobsters cooking,bets resulting in grown men wearing their nephew's girlfriend's hair extensions, kids growing tall enough to go on every ride by themselves,washer toss victories ,young children growing in leaps and bounds going from saying PDI to PEI and so much more.The memories of past trips and recent stories to tell gives us the anticipation of the trips we hope for in our future.And we are more than happy to travel to PEI to make that happen.

Wednesday, July 18, 2018

We've Hit the Midway Point

The girls have been here for three weeks which is half their visit. Looking back I see how quickly those three weeks have gone and know how fast the remaining weeks will fly by. We have had lots of fun, lots of laughter, lots of swimming and family time and lots of memories have been made. This years jokes and teasing lines have been established ( Monkey's fat knees). Bedtime has proven to be challenging and probably holds the least attraction but mornings are quiet and I get to look at two sleeping girls taking in their beauty and the wonder of their being. I get to be Monkey face to face instead of on the phone or in the words of my weekly letters to them. I am very thankful for this time together and can easily dismiss their reluctance to settle down at night. I have silent evenings the rest of the year. Yesterday Emma made an extensive list of chores she and her sister will do to earn the enjoyable activities of the next three weeks. She knows of course that those activities will happen regardless but I love that she lists the jobs such as washing eggs( a job her mother detested) as their way of earning the things Grampie and I are providing. More precious than gold comes to mind. I do once in awhile remind the girls that their presence here and all the fun things we are doing does not come cheap. But even as I list the cost of airfare, whale watching . our road trips etc. I know I would not have it any other way. I say that these six weeks are our way of condensing into a short time the things other grandparents do year round.This is what our distance apart calls us to do and here we are half way through another year of doing that. I will love to have my quiet evenings back but I will deeply miss the first hugs of morning and the presence of our girls in our home when the next three weeks come to an end.

Sunday, July 8, 2018

Monkey in the Middle

I have not written a blog entry lately and am trying to fit one in tonight . I am tired. My summer days are busy and full and I do love every minute but time for reflection and time alone is at a premium these days. This morning as I hung out a line of clothes I found myself thinking that I hadn't worried about my Mom for while; a short while really but the thought caught me off guard. I am so concerned for my failing Mom , her well being and that of my Dad trying to care for her under their new circumstances.We are putting things in motion for a nursing home placement which may take a long or short time . It will be a big change and it is not something any of us would choose but life sometimes ( or always) makes choices for us. I strongly believe that we will embrace whatever lies ahead and as a family do the best with what we are given but my heart breaks with the changes. So to realize I'd not thought about it this morning made me think about the other things filling my thoughts. My two granddaughters fill our home and our summer days with love, laughter, activity and obligation. They consume my waking hours requiring lots of energy and attention.I had several things to do after hanging out the clothes, one of which was to go to the city and shop for my youngest grandchild's birthday present. We were over joyed to attend her fifth birthday party this afternoon and the house was bursting with fun and excitement, family and joy. What a gift to behold!So tonight I reflect my place in the middle. I am the daughter, the mother, the grandmother and I am thankful. I am also weary and sometimes overwhelmed.I sometimes am in disbelief that it is me in the middle when just a few short years ago , or so it seems I was the kid,the teenager, the newlywed, the young parent. But this is where today finds me and I celebrate it all. I look toward the uncertain future mourning the mother I still have but miss so deeply. I relish the ages and stages of my own children proudly taking in the adults they have become. I remember the twenty years I got to be Zac's Mom and shed tears for the future he lost. I embrace the ages and uniqueness of each of my five grandchildren.I accept my role of Monkey in the middle and after a good night's sleep I look forward to another day.

Tuesday, June 12, 2018

What's the Point?

Burton and I do not fight much and I still remember one of the big ones. I had made the mistake of asking 'What's the point'? Burton was working two hours away and had been gone for a couple of weeks. He had the afternoon off and drove home to see me knowing he would only be able to stay for about an hour. Actually in recalling the fight it was about twenty minutes he would get to have at home. My reaction was not received well. His response was a powerful defense on the value of any time spent together and he did not take kindly to me not understanding that. The message has stuck and I woke up on this beautiful morning with those words echoing in my head. What's the point? I am tackling the task of planting a garden , dropping tiny seeds in the ground and hoping that despite all the things that can go wrong (chickens, crows, cows, frost, drought,insects, rabbits, weeds to mention a few) a plant will grow and be harvested. What's the point of so much we do?; of sweeping a floor when it will need to be done again tomorrow, of cooking when it gets eaten, of loving an old dog, of writing a book, of mowing a lawn, of doing laundry , of visiting a mother who can't talk to me,of bringing the girls home when they will leave again , of getting my hair cut , of believing what we do matters.Of course there is a point.Twenty minutes does matter. It all matters and is the gift we have been given, the time we are blessed with and the treasure we must not squander.

Saturday, June 9, 2018

A Special Joy in June

I have had some wonderful school visits this year and I have written about each one. I try for a balance of writing activities and actual writing time. This year I prepared a package for almost every school in the Anglophone South district.After sending the fifty or so envelopes I'd hoped I hadn't bitten off more than I could chew. I find school visits very rewarding but extremely exhausting. I try not to do two back to back. Two a month is perfect. So as we come to the end of another school year I reflect on the visits that were and am perfectly happy with the ones that presented themselves. Some interest in May and June has been put over to the fall and I look forward to following up on them. I went to some repeat schools and some I had never been in before. It was a lovely mix. On Friday I had the pleasure of meeting with a Book and Movie book club at Harry Miller Middle School. It was wonderful. From the moment I walked in the door I felt the welcoming atmosphere. Bonnie Demmons , the principal went out of her way to make my visit special. She leads a great group of kids who love to read and we had a great time together. They chose books of mine to read over the summer and will decide in the fall which one would make the best movie. How fun is that! Chloe, Marin, Olivia , Kaley,Cait, Brooke, Sarah, Abby and Allie along with the librarian and the principal and I had a great time talking books, writing , reading and movies. We had a nice lunch together and I ended my school visit year on a wonderful note. Sorry Eli was sick and couldn't join us and I hope I didn't forget anyone. Have a great summer kids. Swim,travel, play, sleep, dream and read! I know I plan to.

Monday, June 4, 2018

Last Writing Day

I woke up early anticipating the day.I so well remember the thrill of the last day of school. June was always a frenzy of activity. Report cards to write. , school trips , events and special days, hot weather and kids excited for summer. By the time the last day came I was counting the minutes. Goodbyes, emotions , water gun fights, finally seeing the kids on the bus and watching the bus pull away were the countdown moments to summer. Relief followed as I packed up my classroom and put another year behind me. Now for the last nine years I have had the privilege of following a much different routine. The years have gone by just as quickly and the rewards though much different have been just as great. So today I woke excited to start my last day. I told Burton my boss expected me to be at work early and I may have to work late because today is my last writing day and I plan on hitting send on a manuscript I have worked faithfully to prepare. The small seed for this book was planted when my friend Kathy and I boarded a boat to take a Thousand Island cruise in 2011. I wrote the draft and have rewritten it several times. I will spend the day making sure it is ready to let go. Today there will be no closing ceremonies, no gifts,no hugs goodbye, no tears just the wonderful feeling of completion and the hope of having another first day of writing in August. I look forward to all the tasks and joys of summer.Seeds will be planted in the soil and I will watch them grow. I will watch my grandchildren blossom and thrive. I will swim and allow my lake to replenish and fill my soul. I walk away from my writing with a sigh of regret that another year has passed, with the deep feeling of gratitude that another book has been released and will find its place in reader's hearts and minds, and that I will be given another beautiful summer. So much to do to step into the next season but right now my boss is saying get to work . "Books don't write themselves you know."

Wednesday, May 30, 2018

For Everything a Season

What a beautiful May morning. The green is the greenest , the blue the bluest and the air is bursting with the promise of summer. I see the end of May speedily approaching and have already sat this morning and compiled my June list. Oh my June list.I make it with mixed feelings.I have said many times just how much I love the seasons. Each one is ripe with blessings and challenges.As June comes into view I see the end of another writing season. From late August(when the teachers go back) until the end of May I take such pleasure in my writing days. I know I am my own boss and if I wanted to write all summer I certainly could but instead I give myself over to summer and take a rest allowing my mind and my heart to fill up and replenish. I am writing long hours in these closing days attempting to finish a manuscript I have re written at least five times. My revisions are fluid and I do not have stacks of drafts to bear witness to its evolution but the story I am about to complete has seen many changes. A work well crafted should bear that quality. So in a few short days I will walk away from my writing and immerse myself in different tasks. Number one will be to get the gardens planted.Then I must put my outside in order. Open up the cottage so to speak. I must prepare for my girls to arrive and permeate our summer . Oh how I look forward to every minute of that , from the first pad of their feet on the floor in the morning, their glee to run out the door with their bathing suits on heading to the lake, their inside /outside activities, our road trips, our bedtime stories, the laughter , tears, meltdowns and snuggles. I look forward to every bit of it. This will be Emma's seventh summer and Paige's fifth.And this summer Emma and Paige will begin relationships with their cousins and I can not wait to watch that unfolding. This is summer for Grampie and me and for those two precious girls. How lucky we are to be given that gift. So my writing season comes to an end and my summer season waits to greet me with the lake, the garden, coffee on the veranda, the wonderful exhaustion a nine year old and six year old bring and with the knowledge that whatever each day gives us it will be added to the already rich memory stash I am blessed to possess. My writing reservoir for sure.

Tuesday, May 22, 2018

At a Loss For Words

Some might doubt I am ever at a loss for words. I will attempt to find the words to say how wonderful the last few days have been. It was book launch weekend and so much more. Meg arrived on Wednesday and squeezed as much into her six day visit as she could. I had encouraged her to make the visit be what she wanted it to be and to not worry about spending time with me. She did what she does best which is visit the people who truly matter to her. We squeezed a family turkey dinner in and of course the main events. One of those main events was Ashlie's university graduation. Friday was a gorgeous day and Ashlie proudly donned her cap and gown and received her Business degree. We are so hugely proud of her accomplishments. A group of family and friends gathered at Churchill's for a celebratory supper. I had to eat and run to get to the Legion for my peninsula launch.FedEx had delivered my books just under the wire and I hadn't actually held Headliner until I walked into the already filling Legion. I paused very briefly to hold my seventh baby. Robbie and Calvin entertained and people gathered, warmly welcoming Headliner and supporting me. I did two readings and had a great time talking to so many of the people who have been by my side every step of the way. The next morning I laid out seven books on my table at the Kingston Farmer's Market and had lots of buyers.My friend Denise gave me a quote I will proudly repeat when talking about my books. " Your books are like a good meal, they take a long time to prepare and a short time to devour." The rest of Saturday was for regrouping, relaxing and a little bit of Royal wedding watching. A walk was more than needed and I processed and gave thanks. Sunday morning was quiet and I was able to prepare my head and heart for the next launch. And what transpired at the Market Square library certainly filled my heart to overflowing. The Saint John String Quartet filled the space with melodious music and set the wonderful tone which was to follow. Three amazing Bayside Middle students took their roles and added to the magic. Emma emceed wonderfully. Hadyn introduced me with her unique flair and any author receiving her words would be thrilled beyond measure. I read four passages and felt the room respond while at the same time knew the deep emotion my husband and kids were feeling.Katelyn closed with humor , confidence and a generosity I will not soon forget.All the while the strings continued to create beauty and emotion. Books were sold and signed. Words were exchanged and my writer's heart was filled to overflowing which will carry me through the isolated days at the keyboard when my confidence wanes and my words hide from me. Then loved ones (which included my dear friend Alice) gathered around a table at Splash and enjoyed Thai food , laughter and conversation. My grandchildren entertained and filled our hearts with joy and pride. Bella and Grampie shared ice cream and we shared time together which is a gift greater than riches. My riches are bountiful. My heart is full and my cup overflows. My daughter has now driven away in her rented tin can and will be boarding her plane soon.Another launch has happened and memories were made. To truly find the words for it all is more than this writer can do, but that of course will not stop me.

Monday, May 14, 2018

Before We Disappear

It is a beautiful sunny , cool and windy Monday morning. I am thrilled to be home. I just had a few busy, somewhat demanding days in a row and the gift of quiet and home shines through brightly this morning.Compared to the extended demands of my teaching years these intense bursts of activity are nothing but in the wonderful , slow and steady life I now lead they stand out. When traveling is required and putting myself out there is expected I can usually step up and pull it off. After the frenzy I always feel so happy to return home and return to the predictability and choice of my days and seasons. I texted my daughter on Saturday voicing my anxiety regarding the fact I had not made a list since Thursday morning . My list making I realize is just an attempt to stay grounded and my need to process and stay in control. I am sure a therapist could have a field day with me but I don't need to have a professional tell me why I do what I do. I do what I do because I need to. My daughter wisely replied. " Mom , sit down somewhere and make a list, go outside and look at the buds on the trees and listen to the birds". She knows me so well.She sees me and that is a gift beyond measure. Yesterday I sat and gazed at my mother. She sat as a queen on her throne dressed in her signature manner, jewelry , a scarf , her clothes somewhat layered possibly not matching but each layer fashionable. She patted her hair and smiled. Every gesture is now open to interpretation as Mom can no longer speak and her thoughts are locked inside. Was her hair touching a comment on how messy she believed it to look, how unhappy she was with the hairdresser or the color, a plea for a compliment or a way to tell me my hair needed attending to? In that brief gesture I saw all of who my mother was and still is . It feels like in so many ways she is disappearing right in front of my eyes. She is tiny and elf like, child like I suppose and fading.She no longer has a primary role in the family group.She is not cooking for us , asking questions or making comments. We talk and laugh and our exchange excludes her in many ways. We pull her in to the conversation as one would include a small child , reacting to her body language and following her if she goes outside or into another room. Dad is reluctant to discuss in front of her the challenges and frustrations he is experiencing, trying hard to maintain her dignity and the sanctity of their almost seventy year marriage.Yesterday with my brother, sister in law and my father I looked through pictures laughing and remembering and I was so sad not to be able to ask Mom for details and hear her recollections. I dig very deep to find my beloved mother in the shell of the little woman who sits before me because I know she is still in there. Her disappearance makes my current role as mother and grandmother even more poignant. I left my mother and went to my son and daughter in law's for supper. I absorbed every aspect of that get together. The house was filled with 21 members of the two families who were connected when Chapin married Brianne. Nancy sat in her place of honor as two of her children, six of her grandchildren and eight of her great grandchildren interacted around her. Burton and I reveled in our sons, their life partners and three of our grandchildren. We laughed, we ate , we hugged and told stories and made memories.We saw each other and celebrated family. As I walked home afterwards I listed my reasons to be thankful and it occurred to me that I had a big part ( as did Tricia) in steering the ship that brought us to the moments of family that was Mother's Day 2018.From the youngest to the oldest I see them all and am so privileged to be seen by them. I will fade and disappear but so much will be left behind and will continue to flourish and grow.

Tuesday, May 8, 2018

This Too Will Pass

May we all take a collective sigh. Flooding has taken over our thoughts,and has affected us all. Of course the real suffering has come to those who have seen their properties destroyed . Delays, closures and inconveniences are nothing compared to seeing homes and beloved cottages destroyed. There has been no deaths and for that I am grateful. But I feel a heaviness that the rising water has inflicted on us all. I am attempting to regain optimism and hopefulness. I believe this happens collectively whenever a major upheaval occurs that challenges our 'normal'. Life as we know it can be shaken and completely turned on its' head. Personal and collective loss can hit us without warning and knock us off our bearings. We must ride out the storm,hang on through the worst of it and then wait for the water to recede and the mess to be dealt with. Again I speak to this from the sidelines. Our hearts break for our friends Cheryl and Sheldon who have seen their hard work and dreams destroyed. We will show up and do what we can to support the huge job of cleaning up, rebuilding and re -investing in their dream. That is the difficult part of living through an upheaval of any kind. Believing and dreaming again. Finding a place for the sorrow and the fear and letting the light shine through again. That is my prayer for us all today. Whatever you have been called to deal with I pray the light comes through and the hope resurfaces. Deep breath, big hugs and shake off the sadness. This too will pass.

Saturday, May 5, 2018

The Year of the Flood

I am high and dry but so many others are not. As the last few days unfolded references were often made to 1973 and 2008 . Now the flood of 2018 has become it's own statistic and has written its own story.Today is my mothers 90th birthday.The plan had been to gather here for supper and celebrate. But road closures and ferry closures have changed the plans. This of course is nothing compared to what other people are facing as flood levels reach an all time high. Our ferry workers have labored tirelessly to keep the two ferries at Gondola Point running.Homes, cottages and businesses have been affected and infrastructure has been damaged and compromised. Highways are closed and many wait for the water to peak and gradually recede. Oh how powerless we are to the forces of nature.I feel the tension of the flooding situation even though the challenges are not mine to face. I talk to my Dad on the phone and try to convey birthday wishes to my Mom. Oh how the years change things. Nineteen years ago today Burton's Mom died. Nan who had been a constant in our lives was gone seventeen days after her grandson. I am deciding how to tackle this day. I will take it as the wonderful gift it is. I will prepare a meal and welcome whoever can come to it. I will cut my mother's birthday cake and celebrate her and Nan and the wonderful force they both were in our lives; two amazing women who fed and sustained us.I will keep those affected by the flooding in my thoughts and prayers.

Tuesday, May 1, 2018

I Raise a Glass Half Full

This entry is not for whining . Hopefully is is just the opposite although I have found myself feeling somewhat sorry for myself these last few days. I have been sick. Oh poor me! I seldom get the flu or a cold anymore since I am not in contact with a million germs like I used to be. This one got us though. Chapin got it first then Burton came down with it. I seemed to be in the clear until Thursday and then it hit me like a ton of bricks. At first I took it as a reason to do nothing, lay low , relax ,step back and just be sick. But around day three I was over that and I resented the lack of energy and the lack of optimism that usually carries me. I must say I have given a lot of thought to those who struggle with their health on an ongoing basis and truly admire those who keep going and put a good face on. I tend to do just the opposite . I retreat, let every thought turn to my failures and shortcomings. I heap on guilt for the things I am not doing, the Sunday supper I didn't prepare the challenges I didn't take on . It is exhausting and sends me back to bed.So now on the downhill slide to being better(I really hope) I am attempting to regroup. Luckily my sick days fell on a weekend that held no real commitment and I am thankful for that.May promises some busy days , some exciting events and Meg's visit. I plan on being well for all of that. Saturday I will start the market again and I look forward to my weekly interactions. I will travel to Halifax for the Atlantic Book Awards. I will attend WFNB'S WordSpring.I hope to receive copies of Headliner soon and anticipate the joy of opening the carton and holding my seventh book. I will launch Headliner on the peninsula and at an event at the Saint John Central Library . Meg will arrive for a visit and gets to meet her new nephews and niece. Ashlie will graduate from university .We will celebrate Mom's 90th birthday and Dad's 88th. Yesterday Burton and I celebrated our 41st anniversary and Ashlie's birthday. We were thrilled to gather as a family around Chapin and Brianne's table. The smiles around that table, the singing and laughter was everything I needed to fill me with the optimism my sick days had depleted . Oh how very blessed we are.This morning I raise a glass or a cup of coffee and see that cup half full. Perhaps the best gift being sick gives us is the realization just how wonderful being well is. Thanks for the reminder and let's get on with it.

Sunday, April 22, 2018

It Takes a Village

I have told the story many times of the first time I knew that the Kingston Peninsula was where I wanted to live my life and raise my children. As a ten year old I stood in the midst of a crowded hall full of residents of all ages and knew the value of belonging to a community. Yesterday I experienced the same thing and hope my grandchildren felt it as deeply as I did on that day fifty some years ago. I couldn't help but think as I left the Legion yesterday that nineteen years ago the community gave a similar outpouring .On the day of Zac's funeral we were swept up in the loving embrace of our friends and neighbors. Births, deaths, accidents, fire, flood, life changing events are the times a strong community rallys behind it's people and shows support. I know other communities do the same but I have been privileged to live in this one. I used to tell my students that to have a friend you need to be a friend. Well yesterday was proof that Chapin and Brianne were raised to be a friend.This morning the April sun shines as the month winds down and I am filled with feelings of love and hope. I feel the dark night has given way to the bright morning. I am so deeply thankful for that.

Monday, April 16, 2018

Like a Pressure Cooker

Monday morning again. I have a short time in the quiet of my office as I have some daughter duties to tend to this morning. I will return as quickly as possible and take the hours left to me. Headliner has gone to print . I am very excited about that. I have participated in this process seven times now but the thrill has not diminished in the least and I can't wait to hold the finished book. I am proud of the work we all have done. I love the cover and I believe in the story.The story is a simple one of love, loss and struggling to make sense of it and find your way through. Just before bed last night I happened upon Willie Nelson's new release entitled 'Something You Get Through'. His voice is faltering a bit, his face shows a life lived and his words spoke deeply to me. I have always bristled at the phrase " getting over it" when it comes to grieving. Some may say by writing another book about loss I am stuck in the not getting over it. I beg to differ in the loudest possible voice. I can only speak for myself but I believe it is the getting through that counts.Now the getting through looks different for everyone and I can only speak to my own experience. At this point nineteen years after loosing Zac my grief is often like a pressure cooker. Certainly not as often as it once did but now and again the grief builds up, presents itself in dreams and blows off the lid.At those times the pain and fear and panic is as strong as it was in the first moments, days and months. The methods of getting through are learned, the belief you can rally is established and the lid is placed back on.I am so thankful for that and accept the reality of what my getting through looks like.Just as being Zac's mother for twenty years gave me immeasurable gifts ,navigating my way though loss has given me blessings as well.It is not up to me to question why and all I am truly left to do is my best and call witness to the journey. Perhaps in doing that I can in some way encourage others.

Thursday, April 12, 2018

Books Don't Write Themselves

It is a writing day, a wonderful stretch of hours ahead of me, writing day. I say often just how much I appreciate these days.My mind is juggling lots of feelings this morning. Scrolling down my FB feed I see many people wearing hockey jerseys to support the Humboldt Broncos .My thoughts and prayers are with the families and friends, the surviving players, the first responders, the medical professionals , the bus and the truck drivers.This loss is devastating on so many levels. Not being a hockey playing family I have no jersey to wear and no hockey sticks to set out but my heart is with the country. My heart is with anyone facing loss and suffering.I do believe a caring heart does not shy away from giving voice to the heartbreak and challenge of dealing with loss at any level.So today I take the gift of telling a story. I love how the story unfolds and changes as I give it the time and attention. Taking what I feel , what I know, what I observe and combine it with what I make up is such a joy. Books don't write themselves is a common saying around here as is Sunday suppers don't make themselves, Bathrooms don't clean themselves, etc. Broken hearts don't heal themselves either. Healing and surviving loss takes hard work, love and support , time and truthfulness, crying and talking, hugging and hoping, simple acts of putting your feet on the floor and taking one difficult day at a time. Life throws the loss in with the love, the joy with the sorrow, the unimaginable with the astounding. And I try to write books that mirror all of that. So many books so little time.

Monday, April 9, 2018

The Morning After , Thirty Six Years Ago

My baby girl turned thirty six yesterday.Meg was my second born. Her brother Zac was a delightful three year old who was waiting for a brother or sister. We were living in a small shed-like building we'd built on our property dreaming of building the big house some day.Stories of those 'pioneer days' are the stories we still tell. When Zac was given the job of telling his Grammie we were getting a new baby her response was" Don't be so ridiculous".It was ridiculous to some that we believed we could have two kids in a ten by ten shed with a sleeping loft. I had designed a macrame crib that I began constructing to hang over Zac's bed in the corner. Probably not CSA approved and the reality of this plan hit me when Meg was about three weeks old. I hit the road with my friend Marilyn looking for a trailer to buy accepting the shed life was going to be more of a challenge than I anticipated. We bought a trailer and moved it onto our property living in it for five years as we built the big house.But my thoughts are on the morning after. The night before when we'd dropped Zac off at Mom and Dad's and started in to the hospital in a snowstorm. Burton got Dad's tractor out of the garage and towed our truck to the top of the driveway. Crazy! Then we began our trip in to Saint John not giving me a whole lot of time before the delivery of a 9 lb 4oz beautiful baby girl. Megan Joy.And what a joy she has been. Her dad loves to hear the phone ring and then hear me laugh knowing it's our girl I'm talking to. Oh how quickly thirty six years goes by.So many stories , so many memories , blessings , challenges, joys and sorrows. Happy Birthday beautiful girl!