An October Visit

This is a short piece that I wrote in a short story writing class I took a couple of years ago. I remember that this was the assignment where the teacher, inspired by one of my favorite cooking shows: Chopped, provided us with four mystery baskets to choose from. Each had a writing ingredient. I can't remember the exact four or so ingredients that were in the basket I chose. I do remember a mood, possibly set in October, but that's about it. The other elements came from an experience and I tried to convey that feeling.

Yesterday this quote spoke to me; I'm going to place it where I can see it every day:

"Inspiration exists, but it must find you working." 

–Pablo Picasso

October Visit

Amanda washed off her hands and placed the carved pumpkin in a brown sack and headed out to visit her Aunt Rose and Aunt Vivian at Bluestone Retirement Community. As she pulled out of the driveway, she looked into the sky: clouds hung like heavy gray sheets, hugging the dry mountain peaks.

She rolled the window down, prepared to be alone with her thoughts. “I hope Aunt Rose is feeling better today,” Amanda thought out loud. The highway wasn’t crowded this Sunday afternoon. She let her thoughts drift into the breeze, into fields of dry grass that appeared stiff and stuck in place. She could feel the pierce of time looming low. She exited off the highway, took a few more turns, and pulled to the back parking lot of the Bluestone. 

When she walked inside, the light was dim as though it had been washed out. Oldsters pushed their walkers around, some wheeled themselves in wheelchairs, while others had assistance; some sat in the lounge area watching the television with a mix of alert and vacant faces. Nurses walked briskly past the slow moving oldsters. Finally, Amanda pulled herself away when she didn’t see her aunts and went into the facility’s ice cream parlor where she thought they might be. It wasn’t very crowded. There were a few circular tables with seniors seated around eating their chosen desserts. 

Amanda walked over to where she saw her aunts and noticed that Aunt Rose was eating while Aunt Vivian was not and wore a scowl on her face. Amanda felt a chill when she realized this would be a difficult visit. 

“Hello dear,” said Aunt Rose. “Sit down.”

“Hello Aunt Rose. Hello Aunt Vivian.” Setting the sack down on one of the empty chairs, Amanda pulled the pumpkin out and set it on the table. “Look what I brought you!”

Aunt Vivian turned her head and glared at the smiling pumpkin. “Hmmpf,” she said. 

“Oh, Viv, don’t be such a grump,” said Aunt Rose. “Thank you, dear. It’s lovely. You’ll have to forgive your Aunt Vivian. She’s having a day.” Aunt Rose took the last bite of her ice cream and dabbed her mouth.

“I thought it would add some cheer to your room. I hope you like it. It reminds me of when we used to carve pumpkins at your house.”

“There have been many adjustments since we’ve come to live here, dear—and well, it’s not the same as living in your own home and taking care of yourself.”

“I can only imagine how difficult it must be, Aunt Rose.”

“Well, dear, I think the adjustment has been especially hard on your Aunt Vivian—“

“It’s not home,” cut in Aunt Vivian with a slight snarl. “I miss my things. My home. My furniture. My independence. Bah!” Aunt Vivian waved her hand as if to wave away the ice cream parlor and to wave away Amanda and everyone there. She sat in her wheelchair with an unmoving pride on her face, stubbornness etched into her eyes. It seemed she wore the permanent mark of a struggle.

Amanda looked into Aunt Rose’s eyes and was comforted by the kind twinkle looking back into hers. She looked to Aunt Vivian and was only met with a cold icy feeling looking back. “I’m sorry that you feel so bad, Aunt Vivian. It must be difficult.” Amanda shuffled in her chair uncomfortably, trying to remain positive.

“It is, Amanda dear. I’m sorry to be so cold to you. It’s not you. Being old, losing your eyesight and hearing. These things are never easy to accept on top of losing your home—or rather not having the ability to stay in your home.”

“There, there, Viv, see I know you’ve got it in you to turn your scowl to a softer shade,” said Aunt Rose.

“I can’t control my moods, Rose. I’m not able to keep as upbeat as you. I don’t know why. I’m happy with the life I’ve lived. It’s just that when—“

“Aunt Vivian, remember when we all used to carve pumpkins…you always made the best one, with intricate details around the hexagonal eyes. It was as if your pumpkins would come to life and start speaking.”

Aunt Vivian’s eyes began to soften even more; she unfolded her hands and reached for the pumpkin that Amanda brought. Amanda pushed it over closer to her. “Yes, I do remember…my, my, it seems like so long ago. This is a nice pumpkin you’ve carved. Hearts for eyes and a four-leaf clover for the nose, how clever; and the mouth, why, it reminds me of a silly hill Billy with a missing tooth. Ha!” 

“Vivian, my goodness gracious, what has gotten into you.” Amanda and Aunt Rose look at each other and then they all start laughing. “Amanda, dear, would you like a scoop of ice cream, and since you’re so spunky all of a sudden, Vivian, maybe you’d like a scoop too?”

Amanda let out a quiet sigh of relief at Aunt Vivian’s change of mood. She had come to expect these ups and downs from Aunt Vivian. The two sisters began chit chatting, while Amanda’s thoughts were on the other topic she wanted to bring up, but had not. She didn’t want to spoil the mood. Maybe next time she would feel up to it.

“Dear…dear?, Amanda, dear…”

White Egret

White egret high in the twilight sky.

Wings wave against the brisk air.

With each wave of those great wings,

the cold chill inside yields, 

fills me with warmth. I keep my gaze 

on the twilight sky and this graceful creature,

as they fade into the distance. 

It Begins as a Whisper

It begins as a whisper–

light shines

within,

breath 

slows,

then

becomes

steady.

Weightlessness

joining with the

stars, sun, moon, sky

rising to the top

of the mountain to

look out at the

landscape within.

Photo taken at Butterlies & Blooms, SF Botanical Gardens 2013

Little Messages from the Universe

It was just another laundry day. I had forgotten to pack a book, so when I stopped to get detergent, waiting in line, I peeked at the magazines. Prevention caught my eye. The January issue promising: "Your Healthiest Year Ever."

In between loads, I read through the bite size tips that would lead me on the right path for now and the coming New Year. What pulled me in and gave me the kick-start that I needed was a woman sharing how she didn't like exercising (I can relate), but that she goes through the full Sun Salutation six times each morning. 

Since reading that last week, I've been doing the same. I've always found my way back to good habits only to let them go. But I'm determined to gently set down new healthy roots. I have no choice. I have to listen to my body. December has been one of the worst months for my migraines. I've popped more pills than I'd like to avert the headaches from completely taking hold, but have not always been successful. I have so many triggers that it's not always easy to balance them all: Food, stress, hormones, the weather, muscle tension. I have no more excuses. I need to start eating better and on time, make sure I'm getting good sleep, and work on stress reduction and how I deal with it. 

I've started small by going through the full Sun Salutation one time, then two. For me, it's important that I show up and incorporate a routine that feels manageable. 

And then I remembered that on Thanksgiving day while I was working in the kitchen, I heard a loud noise like something fell. I thought it was the step ladder that I had placed around the corner out of my way. Later that day, when I walked into the bedroom, I was greeted by a pile of disheveled books scattered on the floor. My makeshift book stack on the desk had lost its balance and finally tumbled down. I looked at the books on the floor, some crumpled up and thought, are you trying to tell me something? I didn't put them back the way they were, but tried to set them right again. I got a box from the garage and there they still sit.

Then something else happened. Since the past week I've been doing a little bit of Yoga each morning, and possibly seeing a part of Deepak Chopra's talk on his new book, The Future of God: A Practical Approach to Spirituality for our Times, brought me back to a meditation book with a CD called Opening to Meditation: A Gentle, Guided Approach by Diana Lang. It seems as though this book has been waiting for me. It had been bumped around from the pile vying for my attention. It called out to me. I set it on my side of the bed on Friday morning as a reminder. It wasn't until this morning after Yoga that I got my CD player, my headphones, laid a towel down on the living room floor, turned the lights off, and got into Corpse pose (Savasana), and pressed play, ready to listen.

I've meditated off and on over the years and have also had many meditative moments–mindful moments–walking and being. But, I felt–feel ready to bring a more intentional meditation practice back into my life, where I set aside time to go into that beautiful state for longer than a moment will allow. I've always enjoyed guided meditations. The sound of the right voice soothes me, along with calming music.

This morning, when I was done meditating, I got my notebook out, then my sketch pad. I drew a simple drawing that tried to convey how I felt during meditation.

It's nighttime now. Since drafting this out this morning with pencil and paper, the box and pile of books have been re-organized, and I can now use my desk again! I also sorted through more books in search of more to sell and donate the books they didn't want. 

Putting things back into some sense of order always makes me feel better, and now that I'm also trying to get my spiritual self back into order, that feels great too. I'm getting a head start on the New Year!

I'm glad I forgot to bring a book on that particular laundry day; otherwise, I may have missed the message that the Universe was sending me.

 

Driving in the Rain

Driving in the rain–

black pavement

is a canvas fit

for bright 

lights.

Street lights and

car lights make

the roads glow with color. 

I drive

through rain, following in a

steady stream, feeling

secure in the bright

night.

Journal ~ An Intimate Thanksgiving & Pre-thinking for my First Turkey

I've been writing the list in my head, part of it has gone on paper. What do I still need for the stuffing? I have the fresh Willie Bird in the refrigerator, one box of stuffing, garlic. I think I need another box of stuffing.

I volunteered to prepare the turkey and the stuffing this year. My mother-in-law said to give her the giblets and she'll do the gravy. In my mind, the pan drippings are essential for the gravy, but she seems determined. I will still make a basic pan gravy, partially because I rarely make gravies, and partially because I can't let those drippings go to waste.

This will be my first time ever cooking a turkey, at least I'm pretty sure. I have a vague memory that's off very far in the distance, but I truly can't recall if that was a turkey or a large chicken. I think that's also why I roasted two small chickens a couple weeks back–to get some practice in. The part that makes me the most nervous is reading and trusting the thermometer. 

I feel ready and confident. I've watched a video on chow.com, the woman at Macy's gave me some tips when I was looking for roasting pans, and I've looked at a few other online recipes for ideas on the direction I'm going to go. To stuff or not to stuff? To brine or not to brine? I'm leaning toward stuffing, but no to brining. 

I had lunch with a friend this past week. and she said she didn't remember ever cooking a full turkey either. She's in her 60's, so I didn't feel so bad not having done it myself.

This will be my first time making stuffing too. For that I have a partial recipe in my head from my grandmother. As it turns out, my mother-in-law's mother made a similar stuffing, so it will be a melding of the two–in spirit and in love.

The grocery stores will probably be busy today. I was going to go late at night yesterday, but I thought one more day won't hurt.

It will be an intimate Thanksgiving at hubby's parents. There will be six of us plus Petunia and Lucas, the doggies. 

Petunia has been the greatest gift. She puts a smile on all of our faces with her spunkiness. It's hard to believe she's only 6 months old. She loves rocks. She brings big ones into the house, and when you see the size of the rock, you wonder how she lugged such a thing inside. Lucas loves her too. They are dear hearts together. Such a happy union all the way around. I look forward to seeing her each time we visit.

Petunia and my mother-in-law have bonded perfectly. It seems that her moods have lightened, which is a blessing.

I will be visiting with my uncle and brother today. My uncle will be happy to see my brother. 

There's a lot I'm grateful for–the small things and the big. I'm happy to be here visiting on this wonderful earthly plane. 

When I watch the news, it makes me wish there was more peace where there is violence and greed. I try to stay positive. I breathe. I think. I reflect. I wonder. It never entirely makes sense to me, and yet it has a sense of its own.

From my little corner, I send positive energy to the world...and I hope that those that need a warm meal, shelter, or a genuine smile, receive it today, tomorrow, and always. 

I drive by the pool

I drive by the pool

under the night sky;

steam rises, lights are bright;

aqua blue waters illuminate–

swimming in the rain.