cultivating the beautiful ordinary by sharing our tales and our tables
Yep, here I am. Rockin’ my routine within the cozy confines of my comfort zone. I am not adventurous. I have a deep appreciation for structure and the beauty of things remaining the same. Uniformity. Straight Lines. Symmetry. I’ve got everything lined up in perfect rows just like I like it. When everything is as…
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It’s Monday, and in-person schooling for my second and fourth grader are finally underway. Schedules are set, school devices charged, extra masks in backpacks. The house is quiet. There is nowhere I need to be and no one who needs me. Then…
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I had begun to notice Muttsy’s decline about three months earlier. She’d developed a little cough, which wasn’t unusual, considering we’d gone on a month’s stay in Austin, which had a polar-opposite climate to Northern Colorado’s in the winter. Like most minor health annoyances, I figured this one would come and go.
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A couple of years ago, I asked my 80-something dad, “What was I like as a toddler?” He laughed at the chaotic memory of those days, “Oh, you were always holding on to your mom’s leg, begging to be picked up.” I asked what happened next.
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Whistling and gusting wind in the oak trees outside my bedroom window woke me this morning. I tried to stay in bed, but something about the wind felt beckoning to my soul. I came downstairs and opened the blinds, the tree tops ferociously swaying, bending back and forth as the wind had its way with…
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My gut clenched as I stepped through the sliding doors under the bright Emergency Room sign. “My husband was brought here by ambulance; can you tell me where he is?” I hurried down the maze of hallways and curtained rooms, trying in vain to breathe some calm into my anxious body.
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“Seriously? Again? Now?!” I frequently hear myself exclaiming these words in exasperation and despair.
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I knocked on the door of my parent’s house, tears streaming down my face one dark February night.
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When you sift something, you end up with remnants left once the sifting stops. Those remnants feel very precious, and I find myself wanting to protect them for always.
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A celebration was necessary, or so I thought.
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