cultivating the beautiful ordinary by sharing our tales and our tables
Our dear sailing friend Len died several weeks ago. He was sixty years young. At his memorial service, my husband said Len was the most beautifully complex contradiction of a human he had ever known. More insecure, more bold, more obstinate, more open, more brilliant, more foolish, more connected to death, and more alive to the resurrection…
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I finger the three separate baggies in my hand. They contain the remains of my father (age 95; died February 16, 2019), my mother (age 96; died July 22, 2020), and my youngest brother, John (age 64; died February 19, 2022). My two older sisters and I gather on the Oregon coast to celebrate the…
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For the past fourteen years, the heroes of the Marvel Cinematic Universe have been a constant in my life. With two boys coming of age as the 34 movies in this franchise were released, I spent many, if not most, of their birthdays from ages 8 to 18 sitting in a darkened theater watching the…
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Houston, the school’s pet hamster, came to stay with us over the holiday break. My youngest son worked hard to earn enough money to pay to have this adorably furry friend vacation at our house. Both boys were elated at the thought of having Houston as part of our family for more than two whole…
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My life took an abrupt turn on July 8, 2011, when my friend Jim had a seizure and was diagnosed with a very aggressive brain cancer. After surgery, he moved into my home, and I cared for him until he died nine months later.
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“You should never be a mom.” “You would be a horrible mother.” Not sure the number of times I heard these lines through my childhood, but it was often enough that these words took root in my life and grew deep.
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It is Thursday. It is afternoon. I am working on my book when my phone beeps the reminder for an outreach to people living in homelessness. I shut it off and keep working. The volunteer I usually partner with is off tonight. I feel no need to rush.
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“I’m going to get off the phone now.” “Mom, tell me you love me.” “I love you honey.” “OK mom, I’ll talk to you tomorrow.” “OK, goodbye.”
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Last week, I sat down at my keypad and within 30 minutes of typing and erasing, I quit and walked away from my attempts to write.
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