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Writing Beside Me Posts

Doe a Deer

As soon as Mom and big sister Frog leave for school, little Bird rushes to her sister’s bedroom and takes possession of Frog’s favorite stuffed animal, a toy deer. This toy is basically off-limits whenever her big sister is around, but ‘when the Frog’s away, the Bird will play.’ I’m impressed that Bird has created this routine, recognizing that school days are the best time to play with Frog’s dolls and toys. 

I haven’t shared anything about the grandkids in quite some time, so I thought this would be a fun topic for today’s slice. Let me see if I can find a few fun photos, too (without sacrificing the children’s privacy).

Here, Poppa and the girls make biscuits together.

Frog started preschool in August, leaving Bird in the care of her grandparents. (Both sets of grandparents share childcare, on different days of the week). Two year old Bird is getting lots of focused and loving one-on-one attention, and in these few weeks, we are all noticing a language explosion. To date, Bird hasn’t been as verbal as Frog, speaking primarily in one word utterances and relying primarily on nonverbal pointing and grunting. I credit her older sister with this…I mean, if Frog is speaking for you, why do you have to speak at all? Bird comprehends everything we are saying; she simply doesn’t try to talk – silence has been the path of least resistance. Now, however, with Frog away all day, five days a week, using her own voice has come in very handy. Bird’s language is truly blossoming.

For Bird, her sister’s toy deer reigns supreme. She loves to carry it throughout the house while Frog is at school, letting it keep her company as she plays with other toys and activities. Most days, she won’t be separated from it. She even likes me to perch the deer nearby to ‘watch her’ when she eats her meals. (We have to keep deer clean/away from the food, yes?) 

Here, a full menagerie joins us from a distance, to watch Bird eat lunch, lol.

In my very best Julie Andrews imitation, I started singing Doe a Deer as she carried that little toy around, and now we sing this all day long. I honestly think this one song has been the key to her stringing more than one word together, she loves this song so much. When I arrive in the morning, Bird now greets me with the words ‘doe a deer, Nana,’ and that’s my cue to start singing. Bird has learned every word of the song and sings along. She sings this to herself, too, and all of us are trying to capture a recording, but so far we have failed. Her singing is precious.

Our own house is in the midst of remodeling, so we come to Frog and Bird’s house to babysit rather than vice versa. It’s been eye-opening to see the children in their own world, becoming more familiar with their most favorite activities and where they like to spend their time. We have been having lots of fun together. Before Bird goes down for her midday nap, we always take time to put things back the way they were in Frog’s room, tidying the room to be welcoming for her when she comes home, and laying deer on Frog’s bed to greet her. 

Bird has her own favorite lovey, a chipmunk. Here, she feeds him acorns.

When she gets home from school, Frog needs a little bit of time to herself in her room (“quiet alone time”) and then we all have good fun together. The current favorite activities are dance parties, playdough, playing outside, building with Legos, and coloring. 

I’m so glad I know how to make homemade playdough!

That’s all for today, except to say – we are truly blessed by these little dears! (pun intended)

It’s Tuesday and I’m participating in the Slice of Life. Thank you, Two Writing Teachers, for creating this supportive community of teacher writers.

Waking Recollections

Early in the morning, this past Friday, I woke up so alert and I replayed every second of the day before – when my parents were buried at Arlington Cemetery. I ended up writing eight (8!) pages in my journal, as I tried to decompress. Let me share a poem about my wakeful thinking and this special day.

waking recollections
in dark of night 
clarity 
rushes through my mind’s door
holding
every memorable moment 
every caring conversation 
every tender touch  
letting me
embrace these again 

thoughts gather like an old engine warming up
sputtering spewing spitting
so many different directions
all at once

there we were at Arlington Cemetery
the day bright and clear
my four brothers and I
loving family and friends
to bury Dad and Mom

so many faces I had not seen 
in years
new babies to meet
hugs kisses squeezes 

waking recollections
in the dark of night

remember the waiting room -
just my brothers and I 
the military escort 
explaining logistics
how the procession works
my eyes fixating on boxes of tissue 
the realization 
this room held pain grief tragedy
young military lives lost

whereas we were here to honor 
lives lived fully and long 

outside in the parking lot
little ones danced and squealed
stories chuckles whispers shared
such a glorious day

my cousins, aunts, uncles 
my parents’ cousins, too
so many friends from long ago
neighbors and colleagues
everyone here together
supporting us

the military service -
we walked behind the caisson
cannons fired from the hill
the honor guard in rapt attention
band marching, playing Taps
rifles fired in a 21 gun salute
while eight sailors held the flag
so reverently
over my parents’ urns
turning, folding, respecting

that moment -
the officer
handed the flag to me
saying 
on behalf of the President of the United States
the United States Navy and
a grateful nation
please accept this flag
as a symbol of our appreciation for
your loved one’s
honorable and faithful service

he looked right at me as he spoke
and his eyes watered
leaving my eyes 
his mirror

their resting place -
now they are nestled together
on the hill
under the tree
overlooking the cemetery

their great grandchildren play among the headstones

a fabulous celebration followed
in the officers’ club
like so many days long ago
it feels so ‘once upon a time’
those early years 
when base life was my daily life
so much has changed
then and now

waking recollections
in the dark of night

remember we arrived early -
before the burial
and set everything up
the guard at the base gate 
spoke with an accent
our armed forces, so diverse

the room came alive -
sweet memorabilia on the table
slideshow through the years
stories shared at the mic 
spontaneous laughter and tears 

so many conversations 
so many relationships
intersecting

he tells me he was head of security
remembers me as a teenager
she tells me she’s my father’s cousin
and I am just like my mother
they tell me they are longtime friends
from my brother’s church

remember, too -
oh yes yes yes
she would love to have 
her grandparents' china

what a story -
the coincidence of parking
next to them after so long estranged
the unopened letter now in their hands
and hope to heal this family hurt

remember how -
the room became so quiet 
when I shared my poem

in the middle of the night
I am overflowing 

let me sit with this word - recollection 
let me hold in my heart
look closely at its middle: the word ‘collect’ 

we collect what we love, yes? 
to re-collect 
is to savor these treasures again 
to use one’s thoughts 
to gather these love moments again 

to sift through them 
like treasures on a beach 
holding the best ones very close
 
waking recollections
in dark of night 
clarity rushes through my mind’s door
holding
every memorable moment 
every caring conversation 
every tender touch  
letting me
embrace these again

It’s Tuesday and I’m participating in the Slice of Life. Thank you, Two Writing Teachers, for creating this supportive community of teacher writers.

On buoyancy

Chris Margocs’ inspirational prompt for this Spiritual Thursday is to write about (or is the word ‘towards’?) those who have passed and left something behind in our hearts. 

Oh my, this writing prompt could not be more appropriate for this day. 

You see -
my father, 
a Rear Admiral in the U.S. Navy,
died two years ago, 
at the end of the first summer of this pandemic. 
Today, October 6, 2022,
he is being interred at Arlington Cemetery, in Washington, D.C.,
in a joint ceremony, with my mother alongside him;
my mother preceded him in death some four years ago. 

Our family has waited a long time for this precious day.

This passage of time makes it easier to talk and share about them. Time has healing powers through its ability to vary the lens on the past, to let one reflect in different ways and to be surprised by memories in unexpected moments. I marvel at how grief and time have combined to make memories of events for which I was not present, causing me to think deeply about my parents’ childhoods, their marriage, on and on. It is truly a blessing to have so many memories – the gift of time.

As my family and I prepared for this special day – this celebration of my parents’ lives – I kept coming back to this one photo, a photo taken on their wedding day, in June, 1954. They were married at the Naval Academy, right after Dad graduated. Let me share the photo here – 

My parents were married 64 years before Mom passed. This photo from their wedding day simply makes me smile. It is a treasure to have. Today, at the funeral reception, I am going to celebrate my parents with a short poem about this photo. Let me share it with you here, now.

Just look at this photo -

the twinkle in their eyes
the happy clench of their hands
the gentle lean of their heads
captivating looks 
captured for the ages

this is love at the launch
when fair winds beckon
before two souls set for sea
no storms in sight

what if 
this very moment of buoyancy
is what holds 
all the power and force
to maneuver through rough waters ahead

a love anchor 
stored on the underside of marriage’s hull
at the ready
throughout

what if 
this is our finding
this is the knowledge gained
from their sea trial?

the wonder of
meeting one another’s eyes
holding the gaze and smiling

such a simple joy
to return to 
again and again and again

whether spoken unspoken
love heals 
love hopes 
love holds
love always
always love
the whole of time

just look at this photo . . . 
On the first Thursday of each month, writers share their thoughts on spiritual topics.
Each month, a different host selects the instigation.

Assurances

This is a very exciting week around here. On Thursday, my parents will be interred at Arlington Cemetery. We have waited a long time for this precious day. Dad died two years ago, in early September, in the midst of the pandemic; Mom preceded him in death, dying in October of 2018. Dad was a Navy Admiral, and Arlington Cemetery is his chosen destination. 

I live in the D.C. area and have visited Arlington Cemetery several times, but I have never witnessed someone’s burial. We have tons of family and friends coming from out of town, to be present at this unique and special honor. 

So, that’s what is “front and center.”

Let me tell you about our staging…about the background scenery…about the “side plots.” Simply put, we’re in the midst of major renovation, here at our home. After almost a full year of discovering, evaluating, and planning fixes for the structural problems of our home, we began construction repairs on August 1st. This involved a total ‘gutting’ of our kitchen. I was not naive about the timing – I knew immediately that the work was so enormous, I should not trust that it would be completed by the time of my parents’ burial. Thankfully, one of my brothers lives in the D.C. area as well, and he was totally fine with taking the lead on all “hosting” duties. We could focus on getting the home repairs that were needed.

This week, we’ve put a moratorium on the kitchen/family room remodeling for Wednesday, Thursday, and Friday – there is simply too much going on with all our visitors (none of whom are staying here at my house, thank goodness, lol). I want to focus on my family, I want to be fully present at the service for my parents, I want to savor all the remembrances.

Months back, before the work began, I smiled at my contractor’s response when I shared this ‘calendar of events’ with him; he assured me that there would be no problem – they’d be done mid-September.

The work began August 1st

Installation of a steel beam across the room was the most grueling and essential part of the remodeling.

It is an enormous effort, this remodeling; there have been support posts, a steel beam, roof issues, you name it. As the work continued (at a very good pace, honestly), there have been a few setbacks and surprises in the work to be done (isn’t this always the truth, with a home remodeling effort?). Upon several delays, my contractor updated his timeline, saying they’d be done on the last day of September (this past Friday). 

All I can say: I am so thankful I have never counted on the work being done this week. There will be NO company at this house! lol

Although it was painful to learn we had structural issues with our home, the beam opened up the kitchen space beautifully.

Look how bright and open the kitchen space became!

As I write, I am sitting at the island/bar of my dream kitchen – beautiful cabinets, counters, floor…let me show you…

I love the natural light from all the windows. I love all the space. I especially love the quartz countertops, having only had laminate counters before.

Unfortunately, my kitchen is basically akin to one you might find on display in a showroom – it looks great but it is not functioning. We’re close, we just aren’t quite there yet.

Yes, we have a faucet, but there is no running water at the sink. All the appliances remain in the living room, not hooked up. All of the drawers along one wall of cabinetry don’t open – which reminds me, when is a drawer not a drawer? When the contractor forgets to order drawer inserts and you must wait for these at a later date. There are endless ‘to do’s’ on a ‘punch list’ – all the little things that get pushed aside while something bigger gets done. Oh, and the guys are struggling to install a new (main) door to the house; it is missing its locking mechanism and we’ve been blockading the door at night for more than a week, to feel ‘safer.’ 

This past Friday, my contractor assured me that he’d be done today – yes, today, Tuesday. October 4th. C’mon, be serious! There is simply no way! Look at all that still needs doing.

Honestly, I am fine with this. I assured him:

  • Work at a pace where the work is completed well. 
  • Take all the time you need. 
  • Just don’t show up tomorrow. Or Thursday. Or Friday. 
  • We look forward to seeing you on Monday.

Truth – it already ‘feels’ like I have a new kitchen. It is a great space to sit and write – and it is very quiet, before the workers arrive.

All will be well.

To the day! To the week ahead!

It’s Tuesday and I’m participating in the Slice of Life. Thank you, Two Writing Teachers, for creating this supportive community of teacher writers.

Ending or Emergence

What is the monarch chrysalis up to, at this very moment? What’s happening inside here? From my perspective, chrysalises are very quiet. Of course, noise tolerance varies from being to being. Perhaps within the chrysalis, they are packing and moving metaphoric boxes, cleaning and scrubbing surfaces, using special tools to prepare for what is to come? 

We are tightly bound in a metaphoric chrysalis these days, wrapped up in just two small rooms on the first floor with limited access to two additional small rooms on the floor above. Our remodeling proceeds at a strong pace, with a solid beam in place across the kitchen and family room (“great room”), new flooring and cabinetry in place, and the plan for new countertops to be installed tomorrow. The end is in sight. We will burst forth into new beautiful living in the very near future. 

Yes, and.

I’m feeling edgy, confined, depleted. Trying to keep my heart and hope on the end goal. Washing blueberries in the bathroom gets relentlessly old. Maneuvering around non-working appliances in the living room, wiping dust from surfaces, negotiating plastic-wrapped doorways, yes, it’s reaching a frustrating crescendo. Our stress was all the more heightened when Tony had COVID a few weeks back, leaving us each relegated to two very small and separate places in this chrysalis of a house. I have to remind myself to breathe, stay present, know that good work is being done, and all will be well. Our structural issues have been repaired. We will have a beautiful space in the end. Breathe. 

I had a dear and painful conversation with an elderly friend the other day. She and her husband are moving into senior living, a transition deemed long overdue by their children but one that has been so challenging for the two of them to accept. In the midst of her downsizing work, she told me, “I am living through hell.” I tried to comfort, to reassure – yes, the shift itself is dreadful, but there would be comfort and ease in the end. It would be fine. It would be beautiful. 

I hope I soothed her – but what good are soft platitudes, really, in the midst of the exhaustion and loss of such transitions? 

Is it possible that some similar stress happens within a chrysalis? 

Monarchs and their gorgeous journeys are just outside my house, in a small flower bed I have squeezed in between the porch and the driveway. I have been planting this little bed for years, welcoming butterflies and bees and birds and bugs – and allowing me to fawn over all the beings from our porch. I plant a variety of perennials and annuals, lots of happy flowering plants, and I make changes to the bed from year to year. The milkweed was “a volunteer” I uprooted from the edge of my front yard along the road two years ago, and I crossed my fingers that it would flourish in the little flower bed. The milkweed is SO happy in this location.

Up close and personal like this, I have realized why my neighbor told me to move it to someplace less visible – it is a homely plant, the milkweed. It is not wispy and delicate and covered in flowers. It is large and clumsy. I never thought through its wild lifestyle, how tall and floppy it would grow, how it would fall over and try to nudge all the other plants to take leave. I’ve been corralling it into a limited space, forcing it to be a bit more prim and upright than it really prefers to be. The leaves are large and pale green and take on a deathly, depleted yellow cast as summer ends.  Most surprisingly, right at my eye level, it appears to have gonads – who wants to look right at these? 

Just as I was contemplating the neighbor’s advice…to transplant the milkweed this fall and make it a ‘wallflower’ somewhere in the back of my yard, not center stage in the flower bed…it began to teem with life. Over a dozen monarch caterpillars appeared almost overnight, climbing the stems, crawling on top, under, all around, munching all the while, leaving great, raggedy holes throughout the leaves – it was a monarch party! I have been enjoying every minute of it. 

A few days of wild munching and the caterpillars became so plump and large, slowed down, and hung very, very still from various branches, readying for the transformation into chrysalises.

Two dear caterpillars never completed the move to this new stage – I watched these brown and wither, and ants devour them bit by bit. Happy ants.

I have been able to observe six chrysalises – I have no doubt there are others that are hiding from my view. One has formed on my porch railing, oh my! Even the chrysalis is enchanting – sage green in color, with a thin line and several small dots of spun gold that catch the sunlight in this magical way. 

Yesterday, the first monarch butterfly appeared. I missed their emergence from the chrysalis, but recognized its slow, stunned wing movement as evidence that the butterfly was new to this world. I watched it flutter (tremble, really) along the porch wall for many minutes, and then it flew away. I know there will be more butterflies in the days to come – perhaps even today.

Milkweed is a plain, galumph of a plant and it is a bastion of beautiful life. Yes, and. I’m keeping it front and center in my garden. What a welcome source of joy in the midst of life’s many transitions.

It’s Tuesday and I’m participating in the Slice of Life. Thank you, Two Writing Teachers, for creating this supportive community of teacher writers.

Surprise of a Sestina

It’s Tuesday and I’m participating in Slice of Life!
Thank you, Two Writing Teachers, for creating this supportive community of teacher writers!

“Be patient toward all that is unsolved in your heart and
try to love the questions themselves."
- Rainer Maria Rilke

Do you ever have a moment, a surprise occurrence, that just sticks with you for days on end, and you can’t quite figure out why? This happened to me recently. I was supposed to pick up my granddaughter from her local playground, where she was with another babysitter. I was unfamiliar with this D.C. park and I had trouble finding her right away, which is always an unsettling feeling for a guardian. The city has great facilities, meaning that ‘a park’ can be quite large, encompassing several blocks. At this one, there’s a playground, a community center, a pool, basketball courts, and even a library. It turns out that they had gone into the library to use the bathroom, and that’s why I couldn’t find her right away. I ended up having an interaction with a stranger that continues to make me smile, it was so weird – and unexpectedly kind. 

I had journaled about the day, but not much more. I wondered why the day/the moment stuck with me – and I thought about that great Rilke quote (above) and figured I’d just discover the full meaning in time. 

Yesterday, on the Ethical ELA 5-day poetry Open Write, the challenge was to write a sestina… oh my, do you know the sestina form? I tried writing a few of these earlier this year, a personal challenge, in the midst of a 100-days of poetry commitment I was making. This poetry form is an intricate puzzle for me, one which I invariably fail. Six key words to end phrases and six stanzas jumbling the order of these end words? By the third or fourth stanza, I lose my thoughts, my way, my focus and just fizzle out. Oh my. 

Then it dawned on me – why not try to tell the story of the stranger through the sestina form? At least I wouldn’t “lose my way” – because there was a beginning, middle, and an end. This ended up being great fun for me, and I thought I’d share the sestina here. I still need lots of practice with this form, but I was excited to complete six stanzas for once. Also, I used the Rilke quote as the bedrock of my six key words – so, I knew where the poem would end!

One last thing – writing into this form led me to a deeper level of reflection. I am realizing that the day sticks with me because this man was not someone I would normally have met or spoken with or hung around; and yet…well, you’ll see… 

It makes me wonder what I miss in life on more ‘ordinary days.’ 

[Warning – I wonder if reading a sestina by a novice sestina writer is rather like listening to a young child practice their recorder? My apologies, in advance! Ha!]

My six words are

All
Patient
Heart
Unsolved
Questions
Love
Be patient toward all 


There at a city park I knew not at all,
and behind schedule to boot, I parked impatiently
and stepped out. He spun up, said HEY!, startling my heart;
where he came from, vexxed me, confused me, unsolved
Watcha doing? Who are you? His torrent of questions
began; I challenged myself to respond with love.

Yes, my personal goal, to show “the stranger” love
rather than lead with fear, try to be open to all;
but within myself, appeared a flood of questions -
how do I make time for this or offer patience?
finding my granddaughter is priority one and unsolved
only this will settle my heart

He said, The name’s Karim, this here’s my park, my heart
Chuck Brown played here, music I love
What brings you round? What can I help solve?
I know everything about this place, I know it all.
From his perspective, I was the one out of place; patiently,
gently, he was quizzing me, questioning

Ahead at the playscape, no children, a scared feeling and questions
My granddaughter’s supposed to be here, my sweetie, my heart.
I walked along briskly, trying to stay patient
He stays close on his bike and assures, We’ll find her, love;
It’s the safest neighborhood in D.C., safest of all.
Honestly, I was in two places at once, her location unsolved.

Where’s her sitter? Where are the playmates? Everything’s unsolved. 
I’m tagging along with a stranger, riddled with questions
If she’s not at the playground, where all
might she be?  Is this the day that breaks my heart?
He soothed, Down the hill, there’s a water park kids really love.
Don’t worry, I gotcha, keep the faith, be patient.

So we continued, he the calm doctor, me, worried patient
Happenstance odd couple with mission unsolved
Up, down, around, across the field, together, until I found my love
Why I trusted this guy, I suppose that’s a question
I tell you, it made sense at the time to open my heart
I smile now at his words, I’m my brother’s keeper, that’s all.Be patient toward all
that is unsolved in your heart
and try to love the questions
themselves.”
Rainer Maria Rilke

Transitions

Is this where I type my post?

Squirreled away in the corner of my bedroom in the early morning, window open and fan on for air circulation, I work quickly, passionately, without a break, to create a new blog site for myself before the workers arrive. Yes, contractors will arrive at any moment – I will hear the imposing beep, beep, beep of their truck backing up the driveway, doors wrested open, tools dropped to the floor, heavy booted footsteps across the subfloor, followed by the hammers. drills. saws – not quiet versions, but loud nail guns, pneumatic drills, jack hammers, oh my. They are hard at work on our major remodeling, and I am trying to create my own little bit of sanity in the midst of it all. When they arrive, I type madly, holding my breath for when they accidentally or necessarily turn off the power without warning, and this technology pursuit of mine will be severed for the remains of the day.

I am in the midst of construction, in all kinds of ways.

One day, a couple weeks back, I began to entertain the idea of switching my blog from Blogger to WordPress. Glenda Funk gets most of the credit (blame?) but there were others, as well. Mostly, I had grown so weary of Blogger’s many little frustrations – the way the layout bounced around when I entered text, the way the font size changed when I ‘published,’ the numerous frustrations I and others had with commenting on posts…on and on, the list goes, and I decided to switch over to a blogging platform that I saw so many others using successfully.

I’ve been blogging for years…how hard could it be to switch blogging tools?

Then I got the bright idea to have my own unique domain name – a flight of fancy, to have my own little niche. (https://maureenyoungingram.com) What possessed me to do this? I don’t know.

Wouldn’t this be the perfect pursuit, fun little remedy to the headache of the tools? Me, discovering and toying with new technology, and writing with abandon?

Be careful what you wish for. This little idea has sent me tumbling down the proverbial rabbit hole of technology blather and lingo – hosting, optimizing, linking, caching, SEO, plugins, META descriptions, blocks, insights, what the heck?! Where does one start? What does that mean? What comes first? Where did my draft go? How do I add my photos?

How do I?

How do I?

How do I?!

Where am I?

What is happening?

The “icing on top” of this new learning – the all-too-regular surprise frustration: Oh no! I was just about to figure that out but now I don’t have internet! We’ve lost power again! I take a deep cleansing breath and tell myself – later, later, later, I’ll try to figure it out later.

This is life. Learning in limbo.

I have so many things I wanted to write about and share with you – my summer travels out west, the aches and delights of home remodeling, the wonder of the monarch caterpillars crawling all over the side yard milkweed, to name a few. However, I can’t just yet. I am mired in technological transition.

I have faith that one day soon I will understand all the nuances and how to’s and must do’s of this new blog site, but today is still not yet… baby steps … baby steps … baby steps …

Thank you for visiting my fledgling site…it is a work in progress.

Is this where I type my post?