When I was a girl, I loved riding my bike with no hands.
Heading back home at dusk, with nose running… my young cold cheeks were flaming from the rush of it all.
Dinner was fragrant and slow cooking and I knew my mother was slow cooking too, waiting even before I opened the door.
I was one of the lucky ones.
I know this.
Crayons and paints were my obsession, when I was girl, and I copied the framed art on our walls.
I wanted to be an artist like my grandmother who learned to paint with her left hand, after a devastating stroke. I think of her often.
No wall painting was allowed in our home… I do remember this.
My mother was unsure, even then; admiring my creativity but then asking her friends if I had talent.
As I became older her uncertainty kept me off balance.
Some days we’d go for chocolate ice cream sodas. It was kind of our “thing” in a family of four kids.
Ice cream sodas could turn a mood around or a day into a celebration, just like that.
We’d stop at “Sees” Candy after trips to the dentist and purchase chocolatey confections with caramel and nuts. I disliked going to the dentist, but the candy insured I went often.
This is how my addiction to chocolate began.
As a teenager, I loved painting my long fingernails and setting my hair in mesh rollers before going to sleep. Then “Twiggy” came along and I cut my hair… and became my own barber.
It was training for my haircutting ritual with Alan.
Swimming in Folsom Lake during summer breaks and feeling the power of my changing body, soaking up sun for hours at a time was a delicious moment in time.
The Lifeguards were worth noticing too, I might add.
My sisters’ clothes became my obsession but she didn’t love me wearing them.
I was in trouble a lot with my sister back then, but not so much now.
When a young woman, I loved my husband and children, the ones who required me to grow up quickly and became my teachers.
I have memories of lying down on the blacktop, at the top of our long country driveway on summer evenings with my youngest.
Wrapped in sleeping bags, we watched the night sky go by.
I watched both boys play in the creek right outside and down the hill from our back door and it seemed like a Huckleberry Finn Story.
The continuous pop of a basketball was reliable.
Sun drenched skin and soft hands are my memory.
Now I’m considered a Senior Citizen and Love has become richer, more forgiving and with fewer expectations.
I became a widow and grandmother in the same year and this fact is still widening my perspective.
I love incongruency and pain transformed into creativity and beauty.
I love persistence and staying the course.
I love being real and people who are real.
I love telling the truth.
And I love two-year-old Joaquin and his baby brother arriving in April.
What a life…
Love for all of us,
Don’t be confused trying to understand the pattern of events in your life, for it is not the understanding that is important. It’s the acceptance that there is a reason for the patterns… and it is perfect.
Everything comes in its own time and this is truly the perfection of all things. Worry and fear are the result of not understanding and accepting this truth.