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Month: November 2023

Being Coupled

Published on November 28, 2023 
It is Tuesday and time to write a 'Slice of Life." 
Thank you  Two Writing Teachers for creating this supportive community
of teacher-writers!

I slipped into bed unusually early – around 9pm, leaving him alone in front of the television, unwinding from the day. I was so exhausted, all I wanted was sleep. I didn’t have the mental capacity to watch anything. Bone weary. Beyond fatigued. Done.

I slipped under the sheets, settled my body, and counted the hours of sleep that awaited me: 9 to midnight – that’s 3, plus 6 more…nine hours of sleep! This was going to be glorious.

Only my body settled. My mind began to skip, run, race about, a bit pinball-like: 

tomorrow's to do's
                                                        today's horrible headlines
                      addiction runs in our family
                                                                                                   oh my, so much pain in the world
unending war

I started a meditative body scan, sending soft, calming breath into my toes, and working my way up…the base of my foot…the ankle…my failsafe technique for calming down…breathing in fully, exhaling softly. Before I had made my way to my knees, I was riddled with questions, mulling over moments from the busy weekend…

was that a rude tone, or am I just imagining it?
                                          I should have insisted
                                                                                                       wait, am I hungry?
              how serious is their relationship?

       should I get out of bed and write that down before I forget?

Time to try the body scan again.

And, fail.

I. Was. Alert. 

My body wanted to be in this warm, cozy bed but my brain did not.

Back and forth, I went …and then I saw that it was now 10:30pm, and I groaned: This is ridiculous!

A groan heard by hubby.

Hon, you still awake? I’m going to turn the light on to find my chapstick.

The light blasts on immediately and I race to cover my eyes with my pillow, groaning – What?! I’m trying to sleep!

But, you aren’t asleep, so the light doesn’t matter.

BUT!! What was your strategy for finding the chapstick if I WAS asleep? 

My strategy for finding my chapstick? You are a teacher! Ha!, he chuckles and turns off the light, giving me a gentle kiss.

G’night, hon.

G’night. 

Within seconds, I hear his breathing transition into the deep, luxurious exchanges of him sleeping…

Oh, this was not fair.

I concentrated on his breath and tried to breathe along with him, freeing my mind of all other nonsense, just breathing… in, in…out, out, out…in, in ….

And then it was morning.

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Rekindled Joy

Published on November 21, 2023 
It is Tuesday and time to write a 'Slice of Life." 
Thank you  Two Writing Teachers for creating this supportive community
of teacher-writers!

The biggest, grandest, happiest hug. 

I was smiling ear to ear with anticipation when I heard her knock at the door, and then we just locked in and held one another. 

It had been so long since we’d seen one another, much too long. 

When I texted her Happy Birthday this year, I offered a few dates as well – please, please, please, let’s get together! How about you and your husband come to dinner at our house? 

How to explain how year after year can go by without seeing a dear soul who lives less than 20 miles away? The Christmas cards, the phone calls, the texts simply weren’t cutting it for me anymore; time feels more and more precious. 

As the chili stewed on the stove, I did a quick look through my photo boxes to see if I had any pictures of our time together. She squealed with delight at these treasures on the coffee table, and we started talking and sharing – laughing, crying, holding. Remembering.

She’s my ‘little sister.’ 

When I was 26 years old, I volunteered with a Washington, D.C. nonprofit, to befriend and mentor two little girls – let’s call them Audrey and Theta. When we first met, Audrey was nine years old and her younger sister Theta was seven years old. Their mother was a single parent, unemployed, and suffering from alcohol addiction; she was dearly loved by her eight children. An older brother (a Marine) put the family in touch with the nonprofit, seeking more stability and support for his siblings and Mom. 

(I have not used real names, to protect their privacy and for ease in storytelling. Audrey means noble and strong, which seems so apropos. Theta is the Greek name for eight – and being the eighth child in her family, this name fits nicely, in my opinion.)

Picnic near the Jefferson Memorial, circa 1987

We would meet up on Tuesday afternoons and do all sorts of fun things: go for walks, visit museums, get ice cream, have a picnic, play board games, go to the zoo…countless small, sweet get-togethers. One really fun memory was when my roommate and I threw Audrey a birthday party – her first ever – when she  turned 10. We had balloons, cake, and party games. Audrey invited four friends, and I got permission from their families for these youngsters to spend time at my apartment. We had such a great time! 

The neighborhood where Audrey and Theta lived was really rough. I remember vividly how, the first couple of times I pulled up outside their apartment building, a couple guys rushed my car and offered to sell me drugs. I remember feeling a little scared and out of place. The third time and ever after, when I visited the neighborhood to pick up the girls for our special time together, these same two saw my car and bellowed from the street towards the apartments  – “Audrey! Theta! Your friend is here to get you! Come down!!” I was recognized and trusted. 

Our deep, regular connection lasted about two years. I got married and both girls came to my wedding. We continued to see each other frequently, though it was no longer weekly. One very special outing was when Tony and I took them to the Shenandoah mountains for a hiking adventure. By the time my third child was born and the girls were high school grads, we kept in touch but our visits with each other were much more rare.

Theta got involved in drugs as a teenager, and life spiraled in an ugly direction…and she died in her mid 20’s. It was a tragedy, truly devastating, to lose this precious person so young. 

Audrey is doing so great. It was wonderful to be in her company this week, to hear about her full life. She and her husband are in their mid-40s now, married for twenty years, with two young adult children of their own. They have a storybook romance – meeting one another in middle school, becoming the best of friends, and they have been together ever since. 

When I think about the poverty and addictions that surrounded her in childhood, her life today feels remarkable. She simply put one foot in front of the other, despite all. Her mother and five siblings have died, and Audrey is the matriarch of her family now, caring for and cherishing niblings and cousins.  

At dinner, Audrey asked me,

How did you decide to do this volunteer work, way back then? 

I’ve been puzzling on this question all week. I simply cannot remember what bit of magic led to this adventure. How did I hear about the nonprofit? Where did I get the idea? What I know for sure: I had a dry, dull job at a consulting firm where I trained Federal employees on how to use custom software – and I simply wanted more in my life. I had this gnawing desire for children – and no obvious path forward. I didn’t have a boyfriend or a special someone. 

Yes, I decided to become a big sister, in order to have children in my life. One of the best decisions I have ever made!

Our dinner together was so awesome. We made plans to have dinner again early in the new year, this time with all our children, too. We are not going to let so much time pass again without seeing one another. 

Until then, I will keep replaying our hug. 

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Laugh Out Loud

Published on November 14, 2023 
It is Tuesday and time to write a 'Slice of Life." 
Thank you  Two Writing Teachers for creating this supportive community
of teacher-writers!

I have a joke for you, she said.

What do you call a pigeon with a cuckoo clock?

That’s it. Yep, that’s the entirety of three year old Bird’s joke. 

She asked me with these big eyes and followed this question with a happy laugh. I looked back with brief puzzled silence, and then I could not stop laughing, it was just so precious and funny. May she never stop telling this joke!

A good reminder – one doesn’t always have to ‘get things right’ to be well-received.

It’s been a week of extremes. This sweet grandchild ended up in the emergency room with a virus that led to difficulty breathing, one of those 4 a.m. horrors that seem a rite of passage for parents. Her dad had asthma when he was young, and sure enough, this was the doctor’s diagnosis. Thankfully, she has responded quite well to the meds, and she is back home, recovering. 

Though, I should add –  she is not at all inclined to TAKE those meds. We are babysitting her today, and it is quite the nightmare, getting foul-tasting meds into her little mouth…I am not at all convinced any has been swallowed. Trying new and mysterious things is not everyone’s cup of tea! 

My college bestie is in town, from Connecticut. C is single and retired, with a daughter who lives here in the D.C. area and who is expecting a baby (a grandchild for C!) this spring. It makes so much wonderful sense for C to move here – nearer to family and friends. C and I have been house-hunting for two weeks, seeing one place after another. Finding a new home (with a limited budget) is overwhelming and exhausting and a wee bit scary, too. Change is hard! 

It’s good to keep a sense of humor throughout.

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Now and Then

Published on November 7, 2023

One of the most poetic aspects of autumn, I think, is how the concept of ‘past’ is on full display in nature. Just look at the trees! Here in Maryland, the beautiful fall colors are disappearing, rakes and leaf blowers are hard at work, and deciduous trees are becoming bare.

Transition. 

Thinking about forever gone, thinking about burrowing, wondering what comes next.

Both granddaughters have fall birthdays. Unbelievably, Frog has turned five years old. Bird will turn three years old later this week. 

How to slow time? 

Ah, this is impossible.

So we delight in what we have. 

Bird was here for a sleepover just last night, all by herself. We do this from time to time, when we are scheduled for two days in a row of babysitting. Truly, it saves both the grandparents and the parents a lot of hassle – no need to pack up and get children out the door early in the morning, no need to drive across the city to each other’s house twice in a day. 

What a treat it is to have this one-on-one time.

Time felt limitless. No deadlines, no pressure, no must-do’s. Making blueberry pancakes. Let’s draw together. Oh, how about paints and glue? Baking sheets filled with playdough cookies. There was a moment where I was a playscape for her babydolls. Another, where Bird, Poppa, and I had a meandering walk to the playground. We sat on a curb and held vigil at a neighbor’s yard, where a tree was being trimmed and a loud chipper shredder drew Bird’s focus. We went for a short walk after dinner, in the dark, to find the moon.

In the early morning, she lingered in her bedroom (right next to ours) to play and chat with herself – something that rarely ever happens at her own home, when there’s a big sister to follow and adore.

Grandchildren – an oasis of bliss in a sad and painful world.

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