barefoot in boots
this morning
grabbed ‘em fast
cowgirl kind
my pair for courage
I’ve worn ‘em
for the past two years
dog’s been gnawing
on my snow boots
snow is melting
rain is falling today
leather cowgirl boots
were fine for driving
both my boys to school
my newest pair o’boots
are sporting zebra stripes
they are made of plastic
perfect for puddles
and walking in the rain
it’ll be rain boots
for the rest of today
December 20, 2013
Teenage boy was up and at ‘em early today. We enjoyed sharing morning quiet time. Visiting. Breakfasting without a rush.
I went in to wake up ATB at 7:09am and said, “Last day of school before Christmas Vacation.” I sort of sing-songed it. I picked up his glasses to clean ‘em, from where they were sitting on the nightstand beside his bed. Sweet boy rolled over, while rubbing his eyes awake, and calmly said, “Mom, there are already coke bottles going off inside me.” Even after drinking my morning coffee I still had to ask, “Coke bottles?” My ten year old boy replied, “Mentos. Diet coke. Get it?!” Oh, yes. I so do. Christmastime is for children and grown ups who don’t really wanna be “adults” at all. Christmas is magic, excitement and lots of happy energy about to combust. It’s a feeling that, if you’re lucky, always stays with you. Joy that bubbles up from deep inside.
My first conversation of the morning was with a teacher on the sidewalk. It was sometime before 6am, maybe before 5am. I’m not sure of the time exactly. “Early” covers it completely. I was walking with my Blue dog. We were sort of lollygagging along. She had Blue’s best buddy, Jake, who was dancing at the end of his leash. We visited like the neighbors and friends we are, as the dogs romped and played. I said, “I’m praying for ALL the teachers today.” We shared a smile under the streetlights glow.
Now I know the fifth grade boy description of what it feels like: Every child has coke bottles inside them, you know, like mentos and diet coke. (I’m being sort of a grown up and resisting adding the “Duh.”)
I treated my younger boy a little bit today, by offering to drive him, instead of waiting in the drizzling rain to ride the bus per usual. He needed a little less rush too. By 8:40am both my sons were delivered safely to school.
Their days will go by fast. Mine will too. For this quiet moment though, while I catch my breath and plan, Blue is curled up next to me, each of us on our favorite halves of the family room love seat. I need to make a mega list and wrap up the remaining Christmas To Do. Best of all, I’ll be smiling about coke bottles while I do. Oh, how I love them, and rejoice in the gift of my two sons. Christmas time is about the birth of God’s Son. Long ago. In a land afar. Angels first foretold, then announced his birth. Shepherds followed a star. Wise men began the journey to meet him. Baby Jesus. Born of a virgin. Joseph the carpenter was there, beside the manger. His mother, Mary, pondered all these things in her heart. I’ve always loved that quiet little verse, nestled in Luke 2. I’m a heart ponderer too. Everything changes in a moment. My phone rang, Blue jumped down and front window wild woofed, only to return again to curl beside me, as I work to wrap this up. My heart squeezes, my eyes leak. Tears of joy and the ring of laughter intertwines with the ache of grief. Life goes on. Christmas is coming, whether I’m “ready” or not. I’ll be ready, well, ready enough. Joy. Peace. Hope. Love. Blessings. Thankfulness. The Gift of God’s Son. Christmastime. Like coke bottles going off inside. That covers all the important stuff.
December 20, 2013
Luke 2:19 “But Mary kept all these things, and pondered them in her heart.”
Life whirls by fast, like a marvelous dance.
Then the music stops and you’re dancing alone.
Some couples twirl for many decades.
They marry in their 20’s.
Their family grows with the arrival of babies.
Those babies grow to school age, then graduate from college.
Suddenly your babies have babies of their own.
Decades have flown.
The couple still holds hands and smiles.
They still stand and sway when music plays.
Inside they feel the same.
Outside their hair is silver.
They move a l’il slow, but get there.
Other couples have the music stop abruptly.
It’s the last thing they expect.
They spent a l’il over two decades together.
That’s all ‘twas meant to be.
She sat in the cemetery between their children,
as his body was laid to rest.
They won’t be dancing at their children’s weddings.
He’ll be watching from Heaven instead.
Life whirls by fast, like a marvelous dance.
Then the music stops and you’re dancing alone.
Life still whirls by at a breakneck pace.
Yet, your pace is set on savor.
Home feels good, like a cozy cocoon.
You venture out when necessary.
You pause and marvel at the sunrise.
You lift your face to feel the noonday sun.
You watch the moon wax then wane, and feel a tug.
Days pass.
Nights too.
Family and friends cross your doorstep.
Giving and receiving hugs for hello and goodbye.
Laughter returns, as joy bubbles from within.
Life whirls on.
Dance.
Set your own pace.
I do.
In the kitchen.
Alone.
December 19, 2013
I wish I could tag this “creative writing,” but it is a true story. Mine. After a two year and three month cancer fight, my husband died in August of this year. He had just turned 43. I was still 41. Now I’m 42. We were together over 21 years, counting from our first date. Together nearly half my life, married for 16. I didn’t want to write this poem, but when the words are there you learn to honor them and let them flow. Even when they make you cry crocodile tears that fall as you do. Perhaps this is why my dog was awake extra early today. Coffee and breakfast are next for me while my boys sleep a l’il longer and I can soak up the quiet of the house before chaos and commotion reign again. Zany. Crazy. Wild. Ornery. Rambunctious. Loud. LIFE! It is for living. Thank you, Lord, for the gift of today.
Love,
Janean
P.S. Nearly included this line, “Not quite four months ago, and it’s still hard to believe.” Adding it here as a footnote for now, to mull over later. It’s time to make that coffee, turn on music with the volume low, sing along and sway.
Laughter is meant to be shared and there was LOTS OF IT here last night. Blue and I are the only ones awake now. Those wild at bedtime because of the full moon outside boys are groaning and rolling back over to zzzz a l’il more. That’s why I said, “Bedtime” before 9:00p. It takes awhile to settle down. Oh, it was a new level of zany in a week filled with LOTS of zany. It’s rather marvelous, really after a lot of really hard.
December 18, 2013
There are more pictures.
My youngest son is a blur.
Just Blue’s tail is in some of them.
There is a picture of my oldest son on the ground.
The pencil his brother threw hit it’s mark.
I’m not posting that one, but if I did the caption would read, “It’s all fun and games until someone gets hurt.”
Wildness continued.
Mayhem is another term.
Full Moon Effect.
Walking Blue for the last time now and then I am going to bed.
December 17, 2013
I said, “It’s bedtime.”
My oldest son heard, “It’s time to put on a stormtrooper helmet, grab a noise-making blaster, blare the Imperial March from your back pocket, and come down to the main floor looking for a fight.”
My youngest son minded by getting pjs on but heard, “Grab a sharply pointed pencil to wield like a lightsaber, while simultaneously threatening your big brother with a glass of ice water, and moving quickly from here to there dodging blaster fire.”
Blue heard, “Mom’s tired. Everybody GO CRAZY!”
December 17, 2013
Dear Mom,
Your grandsons and their/our neighborhood friends did you proud.
Love Your Oldest Daughter,
Janean
(Who has made lots of tracks in freshly fallen snow, Blue and me. I wrote a mini blog about it last night and titled it, “paws and boots.”
December 14, 2013
This is a Facebook note I wrote in reply to my mother who was lamenting all the newly fallen snow on her block without any children playing in it. She is a retired elementary school teacher, first third grade, but she spent most of her time teaching kindergarten. The magic and beauty of a new snowfall isn’t lost on her. She still greets snow with verve, sparkly eyed enthusiasm and the most dazzling of smiles.
“front window view”
December 14, 2014
Blue is a snow dog. We were outside for two hours early this morning. During that time Blue ran and played with Jake (his canine buddy across the street with a fenced yard), we walked around the block so he could “go” and to greet the shoveling neighbors, in between those other endeavors the dog romped on the long leash that is temporarily fastened around the front yard tree while I cleared the driveway and sidewalk (even though we aren’t going anywhere). That was my 6:30a-8:45a. Then breakfast all around. Snow dog is love seat napping now. I have one more cup of coffee waiting to drink, but then I may join him. Happy snowy Saturday here.
December 14, 2013
Blue and I had fun making fresh tracks in the still falling snow just now. When we walked back indoors, after our outside time, I called for my youngest son to come see us. He was indisposed. Oh. I shouted back, “Never mind then. I just look like A Snow Mom.” That two year old pup and I didn’t exactly walk while we were out there. Blue leaped ahead of me, straining at the end of his six foot leash, and alternately circling me, running really fast. Crazy. I say my big, sweet pup is crazy all the time. Just right, made perfect for me kind of crazy. Now we’re happily back inside. My teenage son (13 1/2) is talking his grandparents ears off, using the old-fashioned house phone with the stretchy cord located upstairs. The fire in the fireplace is burning down. This time I’m going to let it. I’m tired. Will tuck in soon, because in the morning, it’ll be time for Blue dog and I to make fresh tracks, paws and boots walking side by side.
December 13, 2013
Turquoise Tangles 