I didn't imagine this as me...

I'm not sure how I arrived at this juncture in my work life. I find myself dining alone in my hotel reflecting upon a day of work, and how much my life has changed over the last 3 months. I am digesting more, much more, than my dinner. I didn't imagine this as me...

I have entered the world of business travelers -not something I am familiar with. It is odd to dine alone after so many years of marriage and a decade of children. I wonder if I appear as furtive as the other two solo diners here, checking their cell phones, faces illuminated in blue light, assuaged by their electronic dinner partners.

As I savor my glass of wine and dig into my steak, I am conscious of the table across the room. Two men with rounded bellies and loud guffaws, arms casually flung across the back of the booth, leaning in toward two women plump with laughter in girly, exaggerated pitch. Some things change, and some things remain the same. This scene has played out before.

It is pleasurable to sink back into my leather booth, watching the drama unfold outside, as the winter storm whips the trees and flings raindrops at the windows above the bar. It's been a long day and my brain is done. I will go back upstairs, dive into the comforts of a good mattress, and give myself the gift of sleep. Tomorrow I need sharpness and agility of mind to decipher this new job and all that it entails...

	Tweet

to declare one's love... and to receive that love

I sit by myself on this Valentine's night sipping on a glass of wine and eating a dinner of buttered toast with raspberry jam, a full moon bathing the trees in wondrous light out my home office window. I am content, more than content, bordering rapturous...to have this time to myself to write and contemplate the bounty that is my life in the here and now.

Tonight, my husband is engaged in a gift of volunteerism, partaking in a scripted play of Where the Wild Things Are for our church's Parish Camp. I can imagine him fully engaged to the awe and amusement of both children and parents, as he helps in a capacity for love and giving that he excels at. I'm not sure he knows the gift he has given me... to allow me the space to be here at home, alone, thinking of him and rejoicing in who he is after these 18+ years of marriage. If there is anything I have no doubt of, it is that he loves me deeply.

This morning my son, Slade, rushed into our bedroom urging me to come to the dining room post haste. A bit bleary eyed, and with gray hair sticking up in all directions, I made my way there to see a vision of boxes of chocolates and cards at each of our places at the table. My son declared that life is good, and I agreed. What better way to awaken than to find chocolates and a card at my place at the table. My daughter, Eleanor, awakened by the sounds of joy, made her way out into the fray taking in the surprise at her place, reveling in her Daddy...the Bestower of Chocolate.

Valentine's Day has become a Hallmark card, but perhaps it is good to stop and mark a day to declare one's love... and to receive that love. In this time of life when my body is moving to the side of aged over young, I am incredibly blessed to have a husband who takes aging in stride and believes it is a natural passage. It feels especially good on mornings when I look in the mirror and can't see past the shock of my own ripening senescence.

My age is as a lusty winter, frosty but kind —William Shakespeare

I have known many kinds of love in my life. Certainly the love I feel for my children is all consuming and constant, stretching me to depths I couldn't have imagined.  Yet, there is something to be said for the love between long term partners. Love ebbs and flows and grows stagnant, but if you're fortunate, a fresh snowfall can bring a rush of clean water to feed your soul...

*********
Photo credit: Illustration by Maurice Sendak, from his book "Where the Wild Things Are".

	Tweet

...because sometimes this is enough

There are days when I yearn for a bigger house, for more money, for more stuff... for just more. And, there are days like this one, where I am content to be in my tiny corner of our sun porch in which I've carved out my own space - sharpened pencil next to my lap top, the bank of windows to my right where I look out and watch the clouds scuttling across the sky, hinting of much needed rain.

It is that yearning for more that sits like a slavering dog on one shoulder and duels with the other side, the lovely, contented plump Buddha. The viral discontent roils with fierce dissatisfaction, while the blissful contentedness of loving and being loved lies so quietly it can be overlooked.

It is on days such as this, when I hear of the death of the immensely talented Phillip Seymour Hoffman, that I question how I could ever be dissatisfied...because, I am a living, breathing soul still walking the earth, tackled by my son, adored by my daughter and loved by my husband.

But, I am fallible and weak, hungry for what I don't have, battling with an ego and a wanting that rages through me. Someday I hope to have more moments of knowing a peace in my being, taking time to breathe in the gifts that I do have and to let go of the putrid breath of fear that stalks me in the light of day. For today I will step outside the door, tilt my face up to the wind and breathe...because sometimes this is enough.

	Tweet