Cleaning House

How many times have you made a move in your life? I think I am approaching fifty or more.

With each and every move I became a little more proficient. Culling through the collection of our lives little essentials. Wrapping each precious plate with care and protecting the less than fine art we had accumulated along the way.

I was always amazed at how many boxes were dedicated to the children's things. Their rooms were always the first to be set up and the last to be dismantled. I was especially careful to keep any and all of their stuff. Afraid that we might arrive to the new place, to find out the one thing they couldn't live without had gone missing.

There isn't much time to reminisce when you are in the process, but you do it anyway. Photos taken at neighborhood barbecues, pictures at the beach, art and school projects the children had so proudly presented us. Wrapping each item with great care and tucking the memories away.

Each time you move you take so much with you. The friends you will never forget, the places you will remember visiting, but especially the stories that will be told and re-told over the years. You also leave a bit of yourself behind.

We have had the good fortune to live in many beautiful places and homes over the years. The one we are in now is by far the most unique. Two little casitas with a huge deck between. A living space as big as all outdoors. It has been the sight of our sons wedding party, our grandchildren's birthday parties and lots and lots of barbecues.

I had a Garage Sale the other day. It reminded me of those moves I have made. It occurred to me that cleaning house is not that much different. Culling through life's little essentials. Passing on the bits and pieces that are no longer needed. Enjoying the memories and making new ones.

The best part is that tomorrow morning , I will not have a moving truck pulling up to my front door.
I think this one is a keeper.

The Game

Once upon a time a long time ago there was a electronic table game called Pac Man. It had funny little characters that you controlled by hand paddles. The object was to maneuver them through a maze like structure while consuming every thing in their way. Points were scored based on the length of time you were able to stay in the game. 

My husband has been a waterman all of his life. He grew up in a small beach town on the west coast known as "the most southwesterly city" in the United States. We could see the Tijuana Bull ring from the beach and back in those days you could walk there on a low tide day. He surfed from the time he could carry a board to the water and along with his dad rode some of the biggest waves over a mile off shore. On the days there were no waves, he would surf up and down the beach while being towed behind a jeep. He learned to scuba dive and would bring home the fresh catch of the day as well as filling our refrigerator with abalone and lobster. 

He sailed in small boat races on the east coast. Surfed the frigid waters off Rhode Island and learned to ski on the blue ice of Vermont. He bought his first Hobie Cat and with me in tow raced in the first regattas. Our first boat was christened the Turtle, due to the fact it was upside down so much of the time. Later, it was wind surfing and snow boarding.

Stand up paddling is for calm water. He is a stand up surfer and regularly surfs in overhead surf on some of the prettiest beaches I have ever seen. As an early bird there are many mornings he has the waves to himself before the rest of the world begins to rise.

His newest undertaking is kite surfing. Your upper body is being pulled in one direction by a kite, while your lower body is strapped to a flat board skimming the waters surface. I liken it to one foot on a skate and the other on a banana peel. And yes, there have been a few mishaps and at least one lost board.

One of the things I love about his adventures is that they have taken us to places we probably would never have seen. In the early days it was to some luscious tropical island with crystal blue water and warm breezes. Most recently we visited the not so exotic Lone Star state. Surprisingly, the SPI lagoon is warm and wide with long stretches of flat water and some of the country's friendliest people. The newest spot is in Baja, four hours south of the border. Just drive to the end of a dirt road and take a right through the sand dunes. As you pop out onto the sandy beach you can't believe your eyes. You can drive your car on a deserted beach that goes on for mile, after mile, after mile. The warm air is tempered by the heavy wind and might be the most perfect spot on earth. 

With an eye to the sky, wind gauge in hand, he is in hot pursuit of the perfect wind. This Pac Man is racking up the points and is still in the game.

Home

I have a dear friend who recently moved away from her home. The home she lived in for most of her adult life. A home where she and her husband created a family. A home where she raised her children. A home where she watched her grandchildren laugh and play. Where weddings were held and birthdays were celebrated. A home where joy and happiness reigned supreme.

One day she called to tell me about a dream.  She was in a boat without a paddle and was being carried down a fast moving  river. Surrounded on all sides by a stone walls. She was frightened but curious. Her thoughts as she was waking was how would she survive the rapids that were fast approaching. 

You see the rapids had already approached her in real life. Her husband had been battling a life changing challenge. His health, their livelihood, their existence as they had known it lay in the balance.  One day while driving home from treatment they found themselves stuck in traffic. Looking up they saw an odd sight. A boat sitting in the lane next to them. As the two burst into laughter they couldn't help  but see the irony. As hard as it was to contemplate it was time to climb aboard the boat and see where it would take them.

Tears and more tears were cried. Leaving their home was hard enough but moving away from the family and leaving the grandchildren was unbearable. 

Navigating their way through the move was tortuous. Finding a new home seemed impossible. And yet they found a town that is warm and welcoming. They live in a new home that is sweet and comfortable. A home that the children and grandchildren have already visited and begun to fall in love with as well. 

Many people think of a house as a home. I am sure that all of you who read this story know that a home is many things. A home is the sights and sounds of life happening. Listen carefully and you can almost hear the laughter of family and friends. 

Are those chocolate chip cookies I smell?

Hmmm?

So a lesson I learned last week was on patience. Can you hear patience? I think you can.  If you are  listening carefully to that still small voice inside your head saying, hmmm? 

If you read last weeks little ditty on Planting Seeds you may have noticed a sound like someone screaming. Yes, the written word almost jumped off the screen as it tumbled out in a confused state. Like stubbing your toe on a crack in the pavement. All I could think when I saw it was, agh what a disaster.  I kept repeating that over and over in my head like a mantra as I wished back the touch of the post button. 

It dawned on me that there was a simple fix to the problem. Just erase the post and send the corrected version. But what about all the people who may have already read that strange looking post. Especially my friend to whom it was dedicated. It was then that I decided it would be less than honest to pretend it did not exist. So I called and sent her the original version. Then I did what was extremely hard for me, I left it posted as a reminder. 

I was in such a hurry to meet my self imposed deadline that I didn't follow through on the simplest of tasks. Having already read and reread the the story while writing it, I hit post after scanning the first paragraph. And then came that all telling hmmm? It wasn't until later in the day that I discovered my mistake.

My challenge is practicing patience. Even though, at times, it might feel as though I am doing nothing. It can take great effort to sit still and listen. To wait for the opportunity to make the correction. There is a reason they say patience is a virtue. 

The people I communicate with on a daily basis deserve the best I have to offer. Sometimes it comes as the cold hard facts and other times it comes wrapped in humor. At any rate it often includes sharing the missteps along with the success. 

 

Ready, set, post!

Planting Seeds

Planting seeds

Recently I have been reading my three year old grand daughter the story of Jack and the Beanstalk. Well, its what she calls reading. Actually, I am telling my version of the story and she can't seem to get enough. 

I recently told her about Jack tossing his seeds out of the window. When Jack woke up he found a beanstalk with a trunk the size of a tree. It had grown so tall it disappeared into the clouds. Curiously he climbed it to find a beautiful garden full of of all her favorite fruits, grapes, raspberries, strawberries and blueberries. "Yum" she said.

I have a friend who by her own account is not much of a gardener. Actually she did not enjoy or understand the need some people have to get their hands in the dirt.

 Last fall her landlord decided to do some landscape work on the wonderfully overgrown yard. Along came a work crew to pull out the old growth and deadwood. Pretty soon the yard was a topsy turvy mess of old root systems and barren soil. The rains came and made it into a muddy mess just in time for the holidays. Then came the news that the landscaping would be put off while the owner took a unexpected sabbatical. 

Faced with the prospect of a disheveled yard, awakened the artist within. Gravel pathways greeted me on my next visit leading to a sweet little bench to bask in the sun. Each time I stopped to visit there was some new artistic rock sculpture to enjoy. Soon there was nothing to do but get those hands in the dirt and plant some seeds. Gifted seeds, inherited seeds, even chosen seeds. It is summer now and the garden has bloomed and brought color and life to her home.

Friends are like seeds you sow. Some are gifts, some inherited and some you choose. You water and tend them, keeping the weeds out. Ok, a few pretty weeds can stay, but you are careful not to let them choke out the new life. Putting down roots is as important for people as it is for plants. Encourage the growth and enjoy the outcome.

Now we take time to just sit on the stoop and enjoy the fruits of her labor. Yum.

Secret Garden

I have always been intrigued by the secret garden.  You know the little bit of color on a garden gate that you might get a glimpse of while on an early morning walk. The kind of place that makes you want to take a closer look.  To take a peek and see what is on the other side. 

It recently occurred to me that many of my friendships have started in much the same way.

K is one of those amazing people. When I met her she was working a busy sidewalk flower shop that  had the most beautiful buckets of flowers on view. I know you say,  really?  Plain and simple, all flowers are always beautiful.  But no, these were a car stopping profusion of color that made you pull over to see what was going on.  I hopped out of the car and before I knew it this blond haired young woman was pulling flowers with a frenzy from every bucket in the shop. She presented me with this glorious bouquet all tied up with a pretty pink bow. 

That is a true gift. A willingness to pair different elements, whether flowers or people to a new and unique outcome. She has been that to me, encouraging me to dabble in art, to look beyond the borders of my life.  Without her influence this blog would have been another flower that just withered away.

In this ever so busy world, with so much going on at home and in your life, I hope you will take time to notice your secret garden. To make friendships that bloom. 

Listening can come from the most unlikely places.