Maybe it’s my overactive imagination, but I feel strangely like a round yellow fruit. Pink in the middle, full of life-force juice with a sharp tang that often leaves a bitter aftertaste, wait that’s not me, the bitter aftertaste. I’m so full of sunshine and vitamin c, great for the body and soul, but certainly off limits to anyone on cholesterol-lowering medication.

My friend emailed me to ask if I was ok. Thank you for that, you are a true friend. I promised a lighter post and I need it right now. Here goes:

 Within the sunshine there lies a hint of rain…wait…no…don’t go there…

Breathe the way you learned at the Tata Centre last weekend.

He jingled his keys, waiting patiently for the door to open. It didn’t. The doorbell didn’t bring a response. Knocking lightly, then louder and louder. Pounding now, his heart racing. Where could she be? No response. He turned away, then thought he heard something inside. He pounded again, tried the bell. Nothing. Reluctantly he returned to his car, started to scribble a note, scratched out everything he wrote. The neighbours were watching. He left slowly, hoping against hope she would appear in the window. Was it over? Did it happen? He wasn’t quite sure. He felt blank, empty and alone. His imaginary world disappearing.

Inside, she tinkered. Rolling around, fixing things and straightening up. She heard the bell, the knock, the pounding. If only she had arms or legs, she could have made it to the door. She thought about rolling down the stairs but knew she still wouldn’t have been able to reach the lock. And even if she could, grapefruit can’t talk.

That made me feel better. I’m taking Mandy for a well-deserved walk.

Emotionally this has been a summer I won’t soon forget. I learned during my vacation that an old friend had passed away within days of our last encounter. Cathy, I saw your mother back in the spring. She looked GREAT. Better than I had ever seen her. It was so great to see her again.

You’ve heard about Mom, right? She passed away April 21.

It wasn’t awkward. I truthfully didn’t know and was saddened and shocked. How could this be?

The day we met was such a guided discovery. Sitting someplace I’ve never been before, I looked up to see a familiar face. We both paused, Lil? Heather? We hugged and hugged and then she sat to catch me up on the news. Listening to her stories stirred such a warmth within my soul. My we had fun. So many good times. So many Lil stories I treasure. She taught me so much, starting with saying yes instead of um-umph. She sat me at the table to peel mushrooms at our first of many dinner parties. I thought it was some kind of test. Who peels mushrooms I thought. Lil did. She did lots of things I hadn’t experienced before and she did them well. Her laughter is an MP3 in my memory. I love to play it when I’m blue.

Come on guy she’d scream at the golfers on TV and I’ll make you a drink and you’ll never drink anything else.I didn’t for nearly five years. She was a great person, full of nuture and caring for her children with a long leash to let them experience their own path. A path she paved with her love and support. I hope I’m that kind of mother to my children. There for them, but also for myself and my own passions.

Deepening the emotion, just after I met Cathy and learned the news about Lil, Brian called to say his mother was taken to the hospital. Korey was aloof, demanding everything was ok. Justin wanted us to close our eyes, hold hands and pray. We did this on the trampoline the first time and then again at bedtime. He repeated the parts of the pray with me and he shivered with fear that his Nanny was sick. 

Tonight, Brian called to say his mother was just taken to the hospital again. He’s on his way in. I’m praying everything is ok. There’s another amazing woman who cherishes her children and holds them up. All seven of them in her tiny arms.

Speaking of Mothers, my Mother and I had a great day today. We took the kids to visit family. I was worried I would be less than patient with her as usual and grow frustrated, which I’m not much good at hiding, but I relaxed. Breathed into it and rolled with the moment. My cousin has a new baby and I held her chubby little self and she snuggled into my breast. I thought I would leak.

We then went to lunch and the boys were extremely well-behaved, aside from Justin smoking french fries. I need to switch to a new brand, clandestine or candy. Their Dad smokes and they don’t mimic him. I guess I should be flattered they watch me so close, but in this case it’s a lung clearer.

Following lunch Mom and the kids sat in the car while I went for blood work. I was rewarded with a procedure so quick, the parking was free. We then visited with my Aunt where the kids met two large standard poodles. Korey made friends and Justin passed his friendship through the screen door. I rewarded them with a trip to their favourite playground while Mom sat in the car relaxing in the shade.

It was a great day with my Mother. I didn’t think that was going to go so well Heather, but it was good. She said. I smiled and breathed.

“Where there is love and inspiration, I don’t think you can go wrong.”
– Ella Fitzgerald

Unless you count missing your friend’s celebration. It was all planned. There was no forgetting. It was to be a celebration of her, the hearts she warmed and the newness of moving on. When my phone rang and I heard her on the other end, “you’re supposed to be at my party.” My heart sank. What was I thinking? Where is my sense? I feel raisin.

I could go on and on about the past 10 days or so, but it would not be a fitting excuse. I let my friend down. I’m going to feel this moment, soak it in, let it swirl around until I get it.

Heathertoo I miss you and I’m sorry.

I remember the day I met her. I was overwhelmed by her genuine enthusiasm for life. I can learn a lot from her, I thought. She made the bad situation of returning to work a joy, something I awoke and wanted to do. When her laughter fills a room, the world changes. I’m blessed and I know this.

Watching her quickly turn each project into a reality beyond expectation, taught me to give ‘er. Dream big, plan big and enjoy the rush. She adds joy to everything she touches.

Laughter, a hug, a shared tear, empathy, sympathy and an optimistic outlook is guaranteed. She’s a natural nuturer. A mother who hates what you hate and loves what you love, without judgement or fear of reprimand, just gentle acceptance and soulful guidance.

There’s an empty space at work these days. Heather has moved on. She’s not far, but I don’t hear her laugh everyday or experience her magic and daily dose of friendship. All that makes me sad. I miss her. But missing someone is such a gift.  Much better than the thought of never having met her. 

With new opportunities brightening her path. 

It’s not an ending, but a new beginning. 

How grateful I am for her.

How awesome it will be each time we re-unite.

How much I love her.

How perfect that is.

When life takes you on a trip to a far away place you’ll need to pack a bag. Fill it with hope and joy and intrigue. Your openness is your ticket and each moment your passport. Always travel with a friend, someone you trust and care for. Someone who makes the forage a pleasure chore. Guard your memories. Gather them and keep them in a safe place. You will need them someday. When you return, be cautious. Don’t take these trips for granted. They are a gift. Receive them with grace.

Off in space. Not knowing where to put my hands or where to start cleaning up these thoughts that are spread around me like feathers from a torn pillow. I’m in a mode of sweet, utter panic and it’s put me in a spiral not unlike a tornado. Where I’ll touch down remains to be seen. Somewhere soft, I hope. Somewhere warm and dry and cuddly so I’ll want to stay put a while. So I won’t feel the need to flee to the next big dream. An intense need to stop and absorb the moment falls around me. I’m cocooned in my desire. Stuck and happy to enjoy it. Loving the feeling of knowing it happened, finally. Hating the anticipation of having to learn to spread my wings and fly. Can’t I just stay here? It’s a happy place. 

Korey’s two front teeth are loose. He’s already lost his two front bottom teeth but new ones have replaced them. I’m reminded that my opportunities are short to grab lots of shots of those beautiful baby teeth that are now separated by oceans as his jaw expands to give birth to the second round of chompers. I envy the spaces. How easy it would be to floss between them. My teeth hurt. Wax keeps my lips from being savaged by stray wires. The rapid shift is on. A space has already developed between my front teeth. The Madonna look does not appeal to me, however.

Mandy sits by the door looking up at me and whining. She doesn’t want out. She’s not hungry. She wants me to go to bed. But I’m not ready. My soul needs to tap out my feelings, to share something that sits heavy on my mind. I’m not sure yet what’s coming but it feels big and I can’t even get a good read on whether it’s good big or bad big…just big. Everything feels shifty these days. The ground on which I usually stand and the means with which I define myself have faded and I’m left tottering on a log. The water is cold and dark and I don’t want to fall in. I’m not trying to be cryptic, it’s just a feeling that won’t leave me rest.

Meditation will help, I’m sure. Yoga will ground me. Sleeping will reset my intuitive soul. Yet I resist all of this and keep struggling on the log as it turns through the water, becoming saturated, less secure. I have a friend who needs me but I can’t reach them. I’ve tried and tried but they won’t pick up. One breath tells me to release them, the other to hold on. This friend is not someone I barely know, it’s someone I’ve grown up with, held hands with, walked the beach with, cried, loved and laughed with. This friend is me and I don’t want to lose her.

My faith keeps me strong. My faith in the universe, in my God who loves me and wants me to be happy, but really depends on me to find my way.  I know everything I need is inside of me, but somehow the blinds have been pulled and I can’t reach the light. It’s not that I can’t really, it’s that I don’t want to. Somewhere in this darkness I’m finding a purpose. A realization that sometimes life is sad and holding that for a while deepens your compassion and your ability to see people as they truly are with their own sadness and pain behind the brave smiling faces.

Depressing really, isn’t it? I’m reminded of the laws of attraction and creating our realities from our thoughts. Have I thought this mess? Am I really in a mess or self-absorbed? Tomorrow I will smile more, be the person basking in streams of glorious light, secure in her world, secure in her sense of justice, attracting the world she wants. Confidently reaching for her dreams and stepping off the log to solid ground. I’ve learned enough here for now, the lessons are engrained, I won’t soon forget.

Now that was worth the wait, wasn’t it Mandy?

My posts are often a simple writing meditation that flows from my fingertips without really any conscious thought, except fixing typos and grammar. When this happens, I often find what I’m writing about has meaning before its time. For example, my Lumps in the Sand post was followed the next day by my sister telling me she made a kitty litter birthday cake for her son.  Don’t worry it just looked gross, it tasted fine. My kids wouldn’t eat it though. I found that kind of funny. The connection between my writing and her concoction made us smile.

I thought it would be fun to test the theory of my supernatural powers to glimpse into the future versus odd coincidence, if there is such a thing. Here goes my words dripping from within:

I’m not little any more. There is definately a side of me that grows tall when I’m around people who make me feel good and want to share special moments. There is no defining reason for this and I’m not particularly clever at making things up so I’m as natural as I can be and bam! someone wants to talk about that, about anything, about everything. Where in the world do I go from here?

 Tonight sounds promising…do check back.