I do apologise. I have not posted in quite awhile. My health is never great at this time of the year and my energy levels always attest to that.
This was my very first post, almost a year ago now. It didn’t get much attention – it’s a bad attempt at poetry, which is not my forte. But the feelings were real. And the words suit this time of year, when it appears that everyone is scurrying around preparing The. Best. Christmas. Ever. Music is sweet and nostalgic; folks are preparing to go home for the holidays; family members are surreptitiously wrapping presents; cookies are being baked and plans being made. Continue reading “How Are You (Reposted)”
The collection of ‘stuff’ has been an ongoing theme in my life, and it all started with my mother. A baby born at the end of the Great Depression, Mom was a collector of everything. Born into an extremely poor rural French Catholic family, she had to leave home at age 15 to get a job and to make a way for herself in the world. Education was (and is) a luxury that the poor could simply not afford. Continue reading “The Unbearable Heaviness of ‘Stuff’”
When her son was born, she carefully documented each milestone. Continue reading “The Collector”
I am sitting in the bus station, waiting for my daughter to arrive. I am alone except for a young mother who is sitting way over in the farthest corner. Her son is perhaps two-and-a-half, maybe three years old, and he is a handful. Continue reading “The Woman at the Bus Stop”
There is so much out there, these days, about being mindful; about being in the moment. There is even a Mindfulness for Dummies book (I confess that I have it on my bookshelf although I have yet to read it). Continue reading “My Search for Mindfulness: Learning to be in the Moment”
In my life, I have been a volunteer on a great number of occasions. Volunteering is either something you ‘get’ or you do not. Continue reading “Remembering to Thank the Volunteers”
When I was 8 years old, one of my best friends overheard the mother of some neighbourhood kids telling them; “I don’t want to see you playing with those Moore kids!” Continue reading “Is there Such a Thing as ‘Figuratively’ Coming Out of the Closet?”