cultivating the beautiful ordinary by sharing our tales and our tables
Before me sits a well-groomed 75-year-old man named Richard. His button-down shirt is tidy, and his khakis are well pressed. He is a former pilot and used to being in control. He is witty and quick to answer, navigating questions with a rapid side step. One would never know just by talking to him.Â
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I lie still, my back pressed into the blankets on the summer sheets, arms clasped across my chest, eyes closed. I cross my feet. Sinking, sinking, not drowning. Gravity compels the air to form to my body, enclosing me, swaddling me. As my body floats, the bed disappears.
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I heard the tires on the gravel driveway and called Dan to hurry! We rushed out the door and we greeted four year-old Grace and I swiftly rushed to the other side of the car and unbuckled five-week old Parker Anne for the first time! I gently held her in my arms and helped Grace…
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I miss my son. College is a brutal separation and makes me more sentimental than I have ever been. Scrolling through photos taken during our summer vacation, feeling a bit weepy over the ones with him and me, I am full of gratitude. Beyond the memories of the adventure, I marvel at the textures, the…
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These days, more often than not, I get to the end of a day feeling like the day ran me, not the other way around. The digital clock on my phone clicks to 10:47 pm; I do a double take, and then I throw myself on my bed. Remaining moments tick away as I open…
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To be present is one of the greatest gifts that you can offer those around you, not to be consumed with the busyness of our lives, but to choose courage and stay alive to feel all that we are feeling.
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It was a sing-a-long. I was nearly the first person in line as I headed to the stage in acceptance of the Band Director’s invitation to join him and the students for a Christmas sing-a-long.
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