Seems like yesterday....

Four years ago I drove my son to Cornell for the first time... and left him there. I am certain I was the one who was more afraid... not because I was afraid he would not be okay with out me, but that I might not be okay without him.

He and I have had to be there for each other throughout the years, dealing with both physical challenges and emotional disappointments. He is one of the most brave people I know. He handles life with a level of grace, dignity and courage that inspires me to be a better person.

Last weekend he graduated, magna cum laude, with honors thesis research in Animal Science.

The morning of graduation, just the two of us, took a hike through one of the gorges on campus then walked about enjoying the campus one last time together discussing the future.

I love him immensely and will allow the snapshots from the weekend to speak for themselves.

If you give a mouse a hammer....

One of my boys' favorite books growing up was "If you give a mouse a cookie." It starts out... If you give a mouse a cookie, he is going to want milk to go with it. If you give him a glass of milk, he is going to get a milk mustache. If he gets a milk mustache, he is going to need a napkin....." And on it goes... what I cannot show you are the photos that go along with it and all the shenanigans the mischievous little mouse gets into along the way.

Well, my son Benjamin called last week and I informed him that I had ripped off the back deck. His first comment, "What happened?" (with that all too parental tone) I informed him that I was tired of the nails popping out of the old boards so I decided to put new boards on. Before I could go any further he blurted out... "If you give a mouse a hammer." (with that all too parental tone)

So here is my version of the story, thus far....

If you give a mouse a hammer, She will want to bang the nails back in.



After 10 minutes of banging the nails back in, She will rip the boards up. In the process of ripping the boards up, She will realize that the wood frame on the privacy wall has rotted and should be replaced... and while she's at it.....the hand rails should go too.



While moving the boards so the grass doesn't die, beginning to build a bonfire the boys would be proud of and surveying her efforts with pride, she realizes that if she were going to redesign her deck, now is the time.




To redesign the deck, she would have to remove the spindles, take off the lattice and sand the remaining posts.



While sanding the remaining posts, She decided that now is the time to build the pergola that she has always wanted. To build the pergola, She would have to dig holes to fill with concrete for support. While digging the holes to fill with concrete for support, She realized that some of the remaining posts needed to be removed to make room for the new supports.





While waiting for the concrete to set, She realized that it would take some time for the supports to be delivered. So while waiting for the supports to be delivered, She decided to start re-decking the surface.



While re-decking the surface, She got tired and decided that this was the night to burn...













While burning, She realized that, "Yes" this WAS a bonfire her boys would be proud of!!!! ....and there is still a whole other half of the deck to burn....to be continued......

"miss" you.... "miss" me...?

So often throughout my life I've said the words, "I'll miss you" "I missed you" "I miss you". When spoken, I believed them to all be heartfelt sentiments.

Recently, I told someone that "I miss them" and the response was, "really?" as in disbelief or questioning the possibility.

That simple one word response has had me pondering these simple words for days now.... what do they actually mean? What does it mean if someone does not "miss" people?

To me... to "miss" someone means "to have developed such a meaningful connection to someone that when they are not in your presence you think about them often, crave their touch, look forward to your next encounter with them."

This definition relates to a mother's hug, a lover's kiss, or a child's smile....

I believe we miss people in our lives on many levels, and the intensity of those emotions change over time.

I buried my Aunt today, she was 89. My Uncle, who will turn 92 in November, has been married to her for 69 years. He is a very strong man. In all my life I've never seen him cry or show any sign of weakness. Today he appeared fragile, wounded and as I made my way through the greeting line... I saw one lone tear leak from his eye and stay. More precious than a diamond, it spoke volumes.... he will miss her.

I can't even begin to imagine what it would feel like to wake to the same person for 69 years and to have them suddenly gone. Their marriage wasn't perfect... He was stubborn and at times very mean, she was demanding and difficult in her later years.... but when her health started to fail... he was loving and attentive... and the day after her stroke, when we all thought she would never recover or speak again... I went to visit, he was leaning over her kissing her forehead good-bye telling her that he loved her... and though she could say nothing else... it came out clear as a bell when she said, "I love you too" He went to visit her every day... and when he ended up in the hospital as well, on the same floor he still went to visit her... She complained that he came over to much and she couldn't get enough rest.... *smiles* He will miss her.

What does it mean if someone is foreign to the concept of "missing" someone? Are they emotionally detached? Have they so closed themselves off to the idea of love or being lovable that they do not allow themselves to feel? Do they just not consider themselves "missable"? Are they afraid? Do they consider it a sign of weakness?

When speaking the words, I see it as a sign of strength, courage... allowing one's self to be vulnerable and put themselves out there and own their emotions.

Watching my Aunt slip away these last few months I have paid attention... I have learned that if you care about someone... you need to tell them.... you need to show them.

So often life gets busy and stressful and we take people for granted....we don't take the time.... we kiss them good-bye as though we will see them again in five minutes.... or we don't tell them that we love them because we just assume they know....

Take the opportunities that life presents us and run with them.... make the time... When you haven't seen someone in a while, kiss them the moment they are close enough.... hug them and let them know their mere presence in your life makes you smile.... and when saying good-bye, leave them with the feeling that you can't wait for their return....don't take them for granted.....you never know when that last breath will be taken.


I left the luncheon early today so I could do just that... there was someone I was missing and I wanted to let them know.... I did....and I can hardly wait for their return.

Official Diagnosis....

It's official... I've been diagnosed and the consensus seems to be unanimous!!! I suffer from AOADD... from here on out know as "Adult Outdoor Attention Deficit Disorder"

Apparently I am completely unable to take a walk (through the woods, down to the farm, across at the pond, anywhere outdoors) with anyone other than my dog AND hold a conversation.

There are far too many little things that distract me and command my attention.... Mom spiders carrying their egg sacks, pretty little purple flowers hiding in the tall grasses, baby blue birds waiting to be fed, a black-capped chickadee sitting on three pea sized eggs, a great blue heron silently flying over head, the wind blowing the white wisteria blossoms, fat worms in the cool soil, leaves twirling on the branches from the wind, the little wren chittering on the tree branch....

When I'm outside... I'm just like a little kid in a ..... Ooooo.... pretty cardinal....!!!!!

The True Measure of a Man.....

In past decades women have defined men by what they do for a living, how much they make, and how good they are in bed. But with women these days bringing as much to the table as men other priorities take precidence.

Yes, I still look at what a man does for a living. I have to be able to respect his chosen profession. And yes, how much a man makes is important... but only to extent that together we will have enough to support our dreams. Anything beyond "enough" is just gravy on the potatoes... whipped cream on my brownies.... or gifts for those yet unborn grandchildren, who require my spoiling....

But what really melts my heart... makes me weak in the knees.... left breathless long after he is gone... are all the little things....

Little things he does without effort or forethought.... For instance...When you are mixing a drink for him and even before you can finish and hand it to him, he is pouring one for you.... When he insists that you set down your drink because he does not want you multi-tasking in the least upon being kissed... When you tell him that dinner will be ready in three minutes and he has washed up and is helping you finish setting the table with two minutes to spare... When he tells you how wonderful dinner is and acknowledges your effort... When he helps to clear the table even though he has his own tasks waiting on him.... When he refuses to let you lift something, even though both of you know you can... When you take the dog for a walk and a car is coming towards you and he continues to hold your hand, but steps in front of you just in case the car didn't see you.... THAT is the true measure of a man.

He is not arrogant or boastful... but appreciative and protective of my existence....kind, thoughtful and strong with strength that goes beyond the physical....sexy...physically, mentally and emotionally....

And when a man lives his life in this way... it doesn't matter in which room of the house you are.... you feel precious.... and left breathless long after he has gone... smiling with the memories.

From Parents to People....

Back to Church...

My minister made a statement and shared a story...

He spoke of a woman with a young child, which became very ill on the way to visit her family. Since the woman's one sister was a pediatrician and the other a nurse she decided to continue to the house to obtain their opinions on the sick child. Immediately upon arrival the sisters conferred about the child's condition and came up with the best course of action. The sister/pediatrician wrote a prescription out for an antibiotic and addressed the child's fever.

With that, the three sister's mother entered the room and saw the sick grandchild. Upset over the child's condition the mother insisted that the little girl be taken to the hospital immediately where "real" doctors could tend to her.

The point? That parents struggle to view their children as competent adults.

Where as, at times, I do agree with this... I feel the situation travels in the other direction as well.

As little children we look up to our parents viewing them almost as super heroes. Our Daddies are big (as we are little), they can lift and cradle us with ease as if they have super strength, protect us, provide for us, kiss us good night and make us feel safe.


Our Moms are perfect... they bake for us, tend to our cuts and hurts, call us home from a mile out with the big old school bell, bundle us in coats and mittens to keep us warm and fill our bellies with hot chocolate and toast, that has butter and cinnamon sugar on it, when we come in after hours of playing and our mittens have finally failed. She is Christmas morning, Easter egg hunts and Thanksgiving dinners. She is tolerant of mud pies, grass stains and wheat shafts tangled in my hair from playing in the fields.... she is perfect.

But then we turn into teenagers and young adults and our parents are viewed as nothing less than disciplinarians!!! "Be home..." "Sit up..." "Don't do that... or that... or that...." We try to please, forever falling short, unable to live up to the image of our perfect parents that remains within us still...

Now I find myself as an adult, facing many of the same issues, which my mother had to face, albeit for different reasons... and like a curious child I am filled with questions eager to view her as a person, not a parent. I want to know how she dealt with certain issues, come to terms with my young adult perspective of those events, but mostly.... to get real honest answers from her in hopes of learning that just maybe she isn't/wasn't perfect and it's okay if I'm not perfect all the time either.

I know I'm not perfect. I know without a doubt that I have and will continue to make many mistakes. It would just be so very comforting to, just once, hear her say, "It's okay.. you know... I made the same mistakes when I was your age."

When it comes to Daddy... I will always be little and he will always be my big super hero.... I will never have the chance to get to know him as a man. But... as for Mom.... there is still hope... still time... to get to know her woman to woman... to experience parents turning into real people. It is not an easy transition... but one I am willing to endure. I think she is an amazing woman and I want to know all about her.

And who knows... in the process... I just might find part of me.

Bracing for recoil....

When people find themselves opening their heart to love again, it is a multifaceted process. There is the physical side…. finding the courage and confidence to touch someone new…. channeling your own self worth to allow yourself to be touched and enjoyed and experiencing the pleasure of it all.

And then there is the emotional side… having the courage to place your heart in the hands of someone else, bestowing upon them the opportunity to drop your heart leaving it shattered on the floor but trusting that they won’t. It’s a frightening process… one we try to traverses with great caution… We try to venture forth slowly, at a pace that feels comfortable and safe. But sometimes, what we feel is so real and so intense it is frightening, unexpected and causes us to recoil to a place of security. We might hold people at an arm’s length, make a verbal line in the sand or even push that other person away…. But when what we are feeling is honest and true…. Our heart can’t stay away…. And the desire to experience it again is even more intense than the first time …. We crave the connection… and instead of stopping at our verbal line in the sand we can’t help but push beyond it… taking one more step, bringing us closer to the possible fulfillment of our dreams.

It is scary. It can cause tears and moments of reflective silence. It can jostle a person’s self-confidence and courage.

During this time, we can only hope that the person on the other side is patient, cares about us and is loving enough to help us through this time….. and will continue to hold our hand as they do our heart.

Simply, Good for a smile...

Some things just make me smile.... this little guy was in my basement and when I picked him up to release him outside... he just didn't want to leave me finger. I think he is way too cute!!!

Enjoy the simple things...

The best Mother's Day present ever....

Today was a some what sad day... my boys all at a distance, I found myself alone most of the day. Of course they all called, one by one, throughout the day delivering their good wishes... asking if they had "won" this year... meaning were they the first to call!!! :) It was such a delight to hear all their voices.

But it wasn't until later in the day when I met up with my mom for dinner that the true gift came...

Our church has acquired a new minister. He has a sense of humor and I really enjoyed listening to him speak on Easter Sunday. I didn't go today... I opted to sleep in for a change... So, while on our way to the restaurant, my mother wanted to share with me some of his sermon. It being mother's day, he stayed topical.... keep in mind, my second son, Benjamin, the one with crazy curly hair just like his mom, is graduating from Cornell in two weeks... Magna Cum Laude' .....

Anyway... he referred to some parents of famous people in history and comments they made....

The parents of....

Mona Lisa ~ "After all we spent on braces.. that was your best smile?"

Thomas Edison ~ "Of course I'm proud of you for inventing the light bulb, now turn it off and go to sleep!"

Christopher Columbus ~ "I know you have to travel around the world, but you could at least write."

Albert Einstein ~ "I know you are graduating first in your class, it's your senior picture, could you at least comb your hair?!?!?"

She said it made her think of Benjamin.

*smiles*

My mom then went on to get serious... and she told me that the minister also said something that made her think of me. She took the time to write it down on her bulletin so as to not forget his exact words. She dug it out of her purse and read to me....

"A great mother finds the hidden potential in her children and draws it out of them."

She followed that quote with, "That's exactly what you've done... "

My eyes welled up... that was the best Mother's Day present ever...

Dandelion memories...

Much of last week the days were gray and wet. With constant down pours the grass grows and grows..... and with it being so wet, the grass doesn't get cut... and when the grass doesn't get cut... up come the dandelions like tiny little replicas begging the real sun to return!!!

And return the sun did... eventually... and I found myself wandering around the back field growing younger with each step until I was all of about 4 lost in the wonderment of the beautiful yellow flowers all around me.

I recalled picking handfuls of them and running to Mommy with them "hiding" behind my back. You'd think I had presented her with a dozen long stem roses the way they were always received and displayed....

I recalled how we used to rub them on our chins and if our chins turned yellow it meant we liked butter....

I remembered how we used to "pop" the tops of them while we sang, "Momma had a baby and it's head popped off!" (don't know where that one ever came from)

And I remembered all the many wishes we made as we blew the dandelion fluff from its stem once they went to seed.

And then suddenly I was the Mommy and I recalled how my sons, especially the youngest, would come running to me with handfuls behind his back.... even up until the day he left for college... and I received and displayed them as if they were a dozen long stemmed roses!!!

Dandelions are so bright and cheerful and full of child-like wishes, how can one not smile when they see them shining up at them?

After I finished squatting down in the grass to look at them closely, watch the bugs crawl around on them, rub one on my skin, just to make sure I still liked butter and try to make as many wishes as I could on all fluff Abbey released in her wake... I picked myself a handful, displayed them as if they were a dozen long stemmed roses .... and smiled.

Happy Star Wars Day.....

You'd have to know my boys to understand.... but in their honor... and to be totally out of character for a day..... Please forgive me....

"May the 4th be with you!!!"

Searching for a wooden heart....

My Daddy passed away when I was just a young girl. I, barely a couple months past 14. He, only 44. I was Daddy's little girl... He and I would go for long walks which is when my absolute love for the natural world was nurtured. He would point all sorts of things out to me as we walked through the woods and I just absorbed it.

He was a carpenter by trade and to this day the scent of freshly cut wood curls my toes!!! I wasn't old enough to learn his trade, but I sure watched... fascinated with his skill. My mother claims that my obsession with power tools and talent is genetic. *smiles* Daddy would have loved my workshop... he never got to experience the thrill of many corded tools let alone cordless. All his work was done by hand.

And what amazing hands they were.... skilled, strong, rough as all get out... but gentle and loving. Sometimes I can still feel his hand on the side of my face, calming my fears.

Some of my most prominent memories involving my Daddy are of him with my mom at the kitchen sink after dinner. She would be washing the dishes or cleaning up the meal and he would just spin her around and hold her... hug her and kiss her. The love between them was undeniable.

They were high school sweethearts... each others first love... for Daddy, Mom was his only love. He would have done anything for her...

When they first started dating... the first real gift he ever gave to my mom was a small wooden heart that he made for her. On the back it simply has a safety pin sunk and secured so that it can be worn. And wear it she did... often. Admire it, I did... always.

To me it was more than just a wooden heart. It represented a true, unconditional love... the kind I would dream about and pretend to have when I was a little girl and my mom would let me play in her wedding dress.... the kind I would see as he held her close and kissed her in front of the sink.... the kind I am still hoping to experience...

On my 30th birthday my mother gave me the wooden heart pin. It is the one item, that should my house be on fire, I would stop long enough to get and take with me. Every Valentine's Day I get it out and wear it... and sometimes... I'll wear it just to be hopeful.

There is still a little girl inside me that thinks someday I'll find the wooden heart that I've been searching for... and when I do, he'll craft a heart pin, meant just for me, for my very own.... and love me unconditionally.

Beautiful, beautiful, blossoms.....

Great Grammy nurtures and provides for yet another year.... love her.