Remember November

The ghosts and goblins have come and gone

A new month starts with the dawn

This is the month we most give thanks

For veterans, voting, and (fill in the blanks),

Please don't rush through this month November,

Take your time so you can remember,

Everyone you are most thankful for,

Feeling thankful for them is not a chore.

by S. Donald

Welcome to November, the most rushed through without acknowledging it month. It seems we go directly from Halloween to Christmas in a rushed haze barely sparing a thought for any of this month's events. Election Day, Veterans Day, and Thanksgiving are all pretty important days but seem to be an afterthought.  How hard our ancestors fought for the right to vote, and some people in other areas of the world still don't have that right. Yet how many of us simply blow it off because either it's not an "important" election such as for president or because we don't like any of the candidates. Well I'd say every election is important because it gives each of us a chance to send a message. Even if the candidate we chose doesn't win, someone notices that x number of people don't agree with the person who won. Doesn't that help (at least in theory) send a message that there is important work to do in bringing all points of view into play? That may be too simplistic for some people's taste but hey, I'm just expressing my opinion which I have every right to do largely because of the people we honor on Veterans Day. Those brave men and women who gave service to our country so that we might all be able to sit around reading blogs where others share their thoughts on any subject they like from the comfort of our cozy homes. That's a pretty important day! Then there is Thanksgiving which has been diluted to be an excuse to over eat, over drink, watch football and plan Christmas shopping strategy. I hope we all pause in our indulging to be thankful for all that we have, material things and food but also our friends and family. The people who help make our lives as rich and full as they are. This is another important day!  So we have 30 days to try and keep a slower pace and bear in mind all we have to be thankful for. Let's not let the month go by in a blur, but live it one day at a time savoring the feeling each event brings.

Reading

I love to read, always have and always will. I love a good story! As a child I spent many hot summer days either in the coolness of the library reading & picking out books or laying on a towel in the yard reading. I especially enjoyed all of Louisa  May Alcott's books and Laura Ingalls Wilder's reading them over and over so many times I lost count. I loved books about horses reading "Black Beauty" and "Misty of Chincoteague" multiple times. These days I'm more likely to read either a murder/mystery or a novel although I take occasional forays into life after death. Those collections of inspirational stories such as "Chicken Soup for the Soul" can also be found on my book shelves. I've just always loved books; and words. I love alliteration and rhymes yet rarely do I read poetry. I prefer to write my own although scraps of Robert Frost's "Stopping by Woods on a Snowy Evening" occasionally run through my mind, and I can still recite "Trees" by Joyce Kilmer.  Books; stories; have a way of taking me out of my routine life and giving my worries a rest. Reading at the park is an especially good routine buster for me. Of course on a cold winter weekend afternoon there's not much that beart curling up with a blanket and a good book.  There are those who prefer non fiction or a biography, and while those can be interesting I prefer to leave reality behind and go along with an author's imagination. Whatever you like to read, give yourself a little vacation and open up a book. You're bound to feel refreshed and have a slightly new perspective on things.

Little Things

Sometimes the things going on in my life, both good and bad, come at me so rapidly that I begin to feel overwhelmed and pointless. So many things going on and no time to process it all or deal with anything effectively. This past week has been filled with good things and some not so good. No major bad things, really just annoying difficulties that arise time to time in everyone's life but when I'm feeling ineffective and emotionally drained those minor things feel huge and insurmountable. When that happens it seems like I am always the recipient of some type of nice little surprise from a friend on the day I need it the most. It could be anything from a phone call to a box of cookies in the mail. Yesterday I was feeling like I was the most pointless, ineffective person ever to walk this earth. As I approached my front door upon returning home from work, planning in my head a little pity party over lunch, I saw something on the chair on the porch. It was a stack of small books tied with a ribbon and a note attached. It was from a friend who shares a love of those little books with me. My day suddenly was wonderful! The books vary from bible verses to bless the home, pictures of Washington, DC, to Chinese Proverbs. My favorite among the books is a beautiful one about friendship, which was in the middle of the stack.  It was such a nice surprise to find that gift by the front door. The seemingly smallest acts of kindness we do for our friends can make the biggest difference in how we feel and see ourselves. Sometimes even the most optimistic among us needs that little boost that says "you are important, you are wonderful, you are appreciated just because you are you". If you are thinking of doing something for someone just because you want to then I urge you to do it--write a note, bake some cookies, drop off a candy bar or pick up the phone and call. It may seem a small thing to you, but it could be just what someone needs to regroup and get on with this business of living.

Was Someone Staring?

Another article that wasn't accepted, I share it here.

When my daughter, who has multiple disabilities due to Aicardi Syndrome, was 18 months old and we got her first wheelchair I remember feeling extremely conspicuous.  As far as I was concerned you might just as well paint me bright orange and make me walk down the middle of the street because I felt so very uncomfortable.  I didn’t want us to be noticed; to be stared at.  The physical therapist we were working with was very excited and happy about the chair, I was not.  As time went by we did get stares and those odd looks from passersby, both adult and children.  As my daughter got older and larger, so did her chairs and with each one a little part of me cried because all I wanted was to blend in with the crowd and that was getting harder and harder to do. People were looking. They were looking at us, at her, at me, at her chair.  We were unusual.  Another thing that happened as she got older was that my daughter began making noises.  Not yelling or screaming, more like grunts, groans, moans and the occasional “aaaahhh!”  Then there were noises associated with the seizures.  Always at the worst times, like during silent prayers at church, or when a child had a solo at a school concert.  Now people were really looking!  We didn’t let it stop us.  After all, (I tell myself still), this journey, this life we live, is not about me.  It is about my daughter and her journey through life.  I’m just here to help her along the way.

She is now 22 years old and on our last vacation I had a realization.  If people are staring, I don’t care. I. Don’t. Care.  Really. Another thing: I didn’t notice if anyone stared or not, and if I think about it, I can’t remember that last time I was upset because someone stared at my daughter or me, or all of us together. We go places all the time, the mall, the supermarket, fairs, parks, concerts, anywhere we please. My daughter is still the same as always in looks and noises and all of it. If people are looking I am oblivious to it and that is a nice way to be.  After all, she is a fascinating person.  I find myself staring at her when she is happily watching TV, playing with her bead toy, or just looking up at the trees because she is such a wonder.  With the deficits in her brain, and eyes, and muscle tightness, and seizures it is amazing to see how she is aware of what is around her, who is around her, and interacting with it all.  So perhaps all those times when she was young and I felt like hiding, people were staring because (at least some of them) also saw the wonder of her.  As for the rest?  Well, I guess they must have just been rude and I don’t care.

A Writing Exercise Story

I'm taking a little break on this one and sharing with you a  fiction/fantasy story I wrote from a writing prompt for my writers group.  One day I may write a follow up to it, what do you think?

Flora to Fauna           

Penelope hurried along the path leading to her favorite spot in the park where everything seemed just a little different. Finding the hidden break in the hedges she brushed the fluttering petals off her face, inhaling the sweetness of lilacs and lilies as she entered the cool dimness of the garden.  Birds twittered and squirrels chittered as she made her way around the huge animals sculpted out of bushes there.  The work of elves and fairies, she thought as she considered each one in turn.  Passing by the llama, lamb, cow and lion she stopped, tipping her head back to get the full effect of the elephant.  “You’re my favorite” she whispered as she sat with her back against an ancient oak nearby.  Pulling a sandwich from her bag she sighed in contentment and opened her book of poetry.  After some time the effects of the quiet garden and heat of the midday sun leaking through the gently waving leaves overcame her and she fell into a deep contented sleep, her chin resting on her chest.

             “When daylight turns to darkness

             There’s a nighttime in the noon

             No sun shines down upon us

             And neither so the moon

             Then flora becomes fauna

             And the fauna cry in fear

             That is when the world will know

             The One in charge is near.”

Penelope stirred and lazily opened one eye to murky light.  “Who said that?” she mumbled, still not quite comprehending the changed conditions.  A bumble bee hovered in front of her.  “Did you say that? I couldn’t quite hear you if you did.  Who’s Flora and why is it dark?  Who’s in charge?” Regaining some of her senses she waited for the bee to reply.  “You heard me,” the reply was almost too soft for her to catch the answer.  “Think about it, as you watch all that happens around you.”  “Who are you?” she asked the bee, “and what am I to watch?”  “You’re full of questions, be patient little one.” He said, and added as he flew off, “I am Bob.”  As she watched him zip away she heard a ripping sound, almost like Velcro when it’s torn apart, only thunderously louder.  The ground around her began to shake and the tree trembled behind her.  She looked about her through the greenish dim light terrified with the realization her topiary friends were galloping about, bumping into each other.  The elephant stood in front of her, loose roots hanging off its legs spewing little balls of dirt as it shook them as one would do after standing in one position too long.  Wide eyed and trembling Penelope looked up into the creature’s eyes which emitted an odd brown glow as it commandingly intoned, “Since you have always shown me kindness I will carry you on my back to keep you safe during the uprising.  Climb up my trunk and settle yourself securely, and hang on to my ears.”  The child, though shaking in her shoes, obeyed and did as she was told.  From her vantage point on top of the behemoth she could see that all the trees shivered and the topiary animals were spreading out through the park.  People ran and screamed in horror as loose roots and dirt pellets rained down, for when they tore free of the earth they also gained size.  As her mount picked up speed she began to relax and take in the pandemonium.  Panicked birds flew in screeching circles after being disturbed from their roosts by trembling trees. She saw dogs and cats huddling together behind boulders or running neck and neck for the nearest building’s entrance in competition with people, squirrels, and every other animal in the area.  All were whimpering in fear and just when she thought she couldn’t stand to see any more she heard buzzing and felt something land on her shoulder.  “How are you dear?” Bob inquired barely audible. “Are you starting to understand?”  Penelope, still looking at the masses crowded and trembling in the buildings entrances, sighed and murmured, “You are the One in charge.”   “Yes,” he purred, “You are perceptive, my dear. The topiary witness many crimes against nature as they stand their silent watch. Everyone must begin to change their ways and care for the Earth and all life forms, plant and animal alike. Nature out of control is a fearsome thing and hopefully this display will stay with them so they begin to change their ways. Now, time for you to rise, rise, rise!”  His voice got louder as Penelope began to float up, and then down, down, down.  The sounds of chaos became fainter and further away as she wafted as a leaf on a gentle summer breeze back to the base of the ancient oak.

            “Penelope!” she heard through a drowsy haze, “There you are dear, wake up!  Goodness, you must have been tired.  I’ve been calling you for five minutes!  Didn’t you hear me? I had to come all the way in here to get you.  The picnic is over; it’s time we went home.”  Standing up and picking up her bag she walked alongside her mother, turning to look at her friend the elephant as they passed.  “Mommy, I had such a dream!”  “You can tell me all about it on the way home, Penelope; your dreams are always so exciting.” As they made their way through the park, a bumble bee trailed behind.