The Sweetest Community Act

My sister Carrie started back to work last week at Hubbel Elementary after being out for 10 weeks for her double mastectomy. All the cancer was successfully removed and she had a lot of love and support whilst recovering, so recovery went well. Just like that it's done. Hard to imagine in those early stages of hard times that one day in the future you'll walk out of it and keep moving on and it'll be done with. She faced one of the most terrifying ailments we can be struck with, but she stayed absolutely positive and stoic and rarely complained throughout those darker, painful days. Last week when she walked into her office at the school--she's the principal there--taped to her window were 18 pictures, one from every class. And in those pictures were all the kids from Hubbel wearing pink shirts and smiling huge. Another photo was taken of all the staff and teachers at the school, again all donning pink shirts. Just as the tears were starting to prick her eyes, the doors were opened and all the hundreds of kids started filing into the school, every single one of them wearing pink shirts and welcoming back Mrs. Belt. That kind of community action will no doubt impact all those kids, inspiring them to be kind and supportive to those in need, and I imagine they will all remember that day and what they were a part of just as my sister will always remember. Here's to a long life of remembering.

Everything Will Be

I love fall the most of all the seasons--the crisp, spice-like scent, the harvest, the evening light on a hillside, the cooler temps. It's in the air now. All summer I've been so caught up with moving and remodeling and a mountain of stress unlike any I've known that I did what is so easy to do--I lost myself. I became a shell and made no time to get back into being, to do the things and the thinking that give me a sense of purpose. I still feel like there's no time, and it amazes me how much busier my days are with Fisher in school full time--all the extra driving and errands. We're not on our own schedule anymore, we're caught in the shuffle. But this air has given me pause. Soon the leaves will turn and fall from their boughs, grounding the way I also need grounding. For me that means more walks, more woods, and simply more looking--the fuel for the thoughts that inspire my writing and make me feel connected. It means finding the balance in my days so that I don't solely exist as one who carts, cleans, cooks, and cares for kids. We are many things to different people, but sometimes we forget what we are to ourselves. And it's okay, as long as we recognize that disconnect and work to improve it. It can be as simple as making a little space each day to do something for yourself. I've been struck by this thought lately--you do yourself a disservice when you think you're supposed to be happy all the time. Life isn't always going to be great, and it's hardest when you think you're supposed to be happy and can't obtain it at every turn. I'm realizing it's better to strive to be comfortable with being, no matter the swirl of the seas we all face. Not complacent, but content in knowing that things will get better eventually. Everything will be alright.

A Sweet Exchange

On a Tuesday morning after dropping Fisher off at school, Phoenix and I were headed to Home Depot to pick up some supplies for the house. She rolled her window down as she often does, and she says to me--I'm blowing kisses out the window and they're floating up to land on the birds flying by. And so all morning as we drove we blew kisses to the birds and the world. I told her maybe the wind would carry one to Fisher, who by then would be out on the playground for recess and it would land on him and he wouldn't feel alone. Kindergarten has been a difficult transition for him, as it has for me--his absence is known. Over a week has passed since the wind took our kisses. Yesterday Phoenix and I were walking downtown just to see what we could see. There I am pushing her in the stroller and crossing a bridge when she raises her arms and shouts--let it free. Good words, I told her. And then as if on cue, a feather caught in the scuttle of the breeze came to a stop right at our feet. Phoenix, I said, I bet that came from one of the birds you blew a kiss to and it dropped a feather to say thank you. Maybe it's a birds' way of blowing a kiss back. But in my mind I was thinking it was a sign that taking time to be present with just Phoenix--to have that one on one girl time--was exactly what I should be doing. I find a lot of feathers--they'll appear and land in front of me in the most random of places. Like the one that blew along the street and landed, still, in front of me on my first date with Matt. Always in these moments I get the feeling that it isn't some random thing, that it's some sign telling me this path is right, I'm doing what I should. Maybe these little nudges are all around us and we just have to take the time to notice. We just have to look.

Moving Forwad

This summer has been a whirlwind. There have been days on end where I don't recall having had time to sit down and eat a meal. I've busted my knuckles, bled, and bruised my body. Weeks went without time to pause under the sky and breathe. There were more struggles with closing on the house and when it did finally come, because it had been stalled for so long, we had to work in overdrive to get things ready. And for most of it, it has just been me and Matt working alone. We painted every ceiling and wall, moved everything out of my house (which finally sold last week), and have run with our minds stretched in 100 different directions to get things in shape on this house that hasn't been touched for years. Our first night here I discovered a gas leak. New lights and toilets and drywall patching and plumbing and overgrown yard work and trying to feel settled in this place where we can't fully unpack. This week we'll be tearing out the kitchen cabinets and installing wood floors throughout the upstairs and building new cabinets to install. Again, just the two of us. But then we can finally unpack, finally have a chance to sit back and not look around and see only work to be done. The kids have been troopers, yet it hasn't been the same kind of kick it around summer here, not when my stress is a mountain. Fisher has said this to me--mom you work too much, I can't wait for you to take a break and play with us. We did manage to find space for a family vacation--took them to the Black Hills and camped and climbed mountains and slept all 5 of us in a tent and watched Fisher morph into his latest fascination--a lumberjack. Translation: Matt and I got no rest. So this slimmed down version of the last two months is a reason for my absence here.

And this too--in the midst of all this work and stress my beautiful, smart, mother of 3 great kids and talented sister learned she had breast cancer. She just turned 40 last spring. It was the closest the C word has struck. How could I not cry and wonder, but she told me she didn't want any tears, that she only wanted to be surrounded by positive thoughts, and to go get a baseline mammogram myself, which I did and which was clear. The cancer was in the milk duct of one breast but since us Hickman girls are strong stock and because she didn't want years of worry, she opted to have a double mastectomy. Her surgery was last week and it went well. I've heard it's a hard thing for a woman to have that part of her taken away, but she's tough enough to reason that it's a small price to stay alive. And so you do these things and move on and move forward. The Carrie I know has always been stoic, a grin and bare it type, so I didn't think she would want me to give words on here. But I went down to see her and give her a massage and reiki session this week and she told me she didn't mind, that she has found herself talking about it with others because she wants every woman to be aware and to get tested. In her mind the best way to support her is to go get tested. And the thing is that is how she learned of her own cancer--she got a mammogram because her husband's cousin was diagnosed with breast cancer. It's no wonder Carrie correlates support for her with others protecting their own lives, because the outpouring of kindness sent to her has been heartwarming. I've been driven to tears several times because of the little things people have done for her. Like this--she went to have a pedicure and the woman next to her learned of her recent surgery. As Carrie went to pay she was told that woman, who by then had already left, paid for her services. The local salon pooled together to offer her free hair washes since she can't shower and raise her arms to her head for some time. Her family will be eating well for weeks because of all the meals brought to them. She says she'll be writing thank-you's for a good long while. And I think this--now she will be around for a good long while. My sister, the sharer of my childhood.

It will be some time before things slow down enough that I can write daily again, but it will come. The other day I was using a hand saw to cut a tricky angle on a board (Matt's new nickname for me is rough-cut), and when I first started it was hard and slow going and I was unsure for a moment if I would be able to do it. But then I reminded myself that it doesn't matter how long it takes, if I just keep hacking away at it eventually I'll get through. And I did. You do these things and move on and move forward. Just keep going.

On Magic

With over 30 hours of driving time together a few weeks back as we took Ella to her mom's for a visit outside of New Orleans, Matt and I had lots of time to talk. When we weren't weary of the road construction and other drivers and rain, when we weren't singing along to tunes, we were talking of future plans, present thoughts, and sharing stories of youth--even down to Matt relaying a story of the first kid in his hometown to discover gummy worms--all those little-big wonders of our childhood. So much in those days was word of mouth, which only added to the mystique. I wonder about "kids these days." And I don't aim to sound like an old curmudgeon, but I think about the vast number of new things they are exposed to at the warp speed of internet and various forms of media and I wonder if it takes away from the magic of childhood. I think of my kids who aren't largely spoiled with material things and yet how quickly the thrill of the gifts they do receive vanish. And maybe that's because they live in a world awash with advertisements and consumerism. What's so special about anything when everything is available? Will they in turn grow up unsatisfied or wasteful? Not if I can help it! When you become a parent all of the sudden it draws to the surface values that you had no reason to name before. When I became a mom phrases like "want what you have" and "go outside and play" took up residence on my tongue. What has become clear is that I see one of my roles is to nurture their ability to see the beauty in the little things so that when they grow up they'll be able to make due and be happy with anything they face. I can't help but think that the magic of childhood stays with us--keeps us soft, rewards us with the fun of simplicity.

Back From the Shadows

I'm not shy about how I feel. I take after my mother in that sense--we have the inability to hide our feelings. Despite the weight of feeling I am usually pretty good at keeping my head up and not losing sight of the silver lining. But everybody has their breaking point, and mine was last week. Matt and I still haven't closed on our house--we're dealing with a seller who lives out of state and just completely goes off the grid for weeks at a time. He rarely makes contact, never returns messages, and his word means nothing. We've been told so many times that we're going to close on a certain date and he never comes through, never comes to town when he says he will. Last week he claimed he had a mild stroke and not even his realtor believes him. The constant let down has been hard, especially when I'm trying to register my son for kindergarten. I've learned how the actions of a single person creates a ripple affect that touches many. And the buyers for my house backed out because they couldn't get approved for a loan, so it's back on the market and I am left alone with the task of all the cleaning and mowing and getting it ready to show all the while caring for two kids and a dog who seem to cherish mess. And divorce is hard. I've been stoic and positive through it all, especially for the kids, but I never imagined how difficult it would be to see my kids smiling in photo after photo with another woman. I know I should be grateful that Derek's significant other is good to them, but it's hard to hear your 3 year old daughter talk about her constantly and unfiltered and wonder why Katie doesn't come over to my house. Phoenix probably doesn't remember the fact that she had been in my home and I cooked dinner for her and her then boyfriend. Hard to picture this woman walking around town with my kids and thinking how others must think she's their mom. And I know it's selfish and one-sided and I know Derek and I are in better places. I wouldn't change that, but I can't help but think this girl just waltzes in and feels pride and adoration for my kids when she had nothing to do with how they got to be such great kids. I'm there for the hardest times, for all the highs and lows. I'm sure every mother can attest to the fact that it isn't easy and there is little appreciation for all your sacrifice. Appreciation is even harder to come by when your kids talk about another woman. But the fact is that's my reality now, as it is for a lot of other mothers. And the truth is there isn't anything in this world that will change the fact that I am their mom and there is nothing that will break the bond we share. So I'm done with this weight and I will trust the truth in our hearts. My kids are loved and that circle of love is just growing larger. My house will find the right buyers. Matt and I will close on a house when the time is right and start fleshing out the dreams that have been building in our minds. And all the while the sun will rise and the dew on the grass will burn off and the owls continue to hoot. Stars and meteor showers and water. Just yesterday I heard two separate people say "there's just something about the water". It's time to be still and breathe.

The Animals - House of the Rising Sun (Official Music Video)

While Fisher had soccer practice in the rain last night, Phoenix and I sat in the car and watched youtube videos of old classics like this one. I would have never guessed the guys behind this song dressed in such dapper suits, with those hair cuts and gentile movements. Completely restrained. Classy!