1981

me and my dad . 1981

It was the year that changed everything. It was the year when my family went from three to four when my baby brother was born on a day in April. And a piece of my story is that I will never forget the way that both of my parents made sure that I always felt deeply loved.

In families there is always stuff.

(Always.)

I wish we would give ourselves more space to just know that this is true. We experienced stuff as children, and we create it now (even if we sometimes don't want to admit it). Every family has it, which is why I feel it is so important to share our stories so that we know we aren't the only ones.

And today, I was thinking about this stuff, and the truth that there is, for me, so often love in the midst of it all.

(Thank you for that.)

May you find your way to love today.

Blessings,

Liz

here

now: neighborhood children giggle and yell and run under the peeking through grey sunshine as i sit cross-legged in the middle of my bed wrapping wire around beads and stringing them together to soon be sent across the sea to become a talisman of words another wants to hold close to her heart.

yesterday: a cafe full of chattering, eating, meeting people, i weave between the tables trying to find a place to call my own where i can sip this mug of chai and write and remind myself that i do know what step to take next even though the uncertainty sometimes slips around me like a cloak i don't remember buying in a dusty flea market another lifetime ago.

the day before: when she refuses to get in the car, we walk along the sidewalk passing storefronts and cars with "you have to hold my hand" said aloud on repeat, and then we turn and do it again because she has no need to understand the stacked up inside my head to do list that includes "picking up the taxes" on the line right after the doctor's appointment we just completed.

the kindred project: day 7 (traveler)

The Kindred Project: 12 Days of Light and Yes is about sharing our stories of light and hope. The moments where we said "yes" to choosing beauty in the midst of it all. The moments where we stood in our own light. The moments where we saw someone else choose hope. The moments where another became our teacher and where we taught ourselves. Read more about the project and share your own stories in this post. During these 12 days, I am sharing a few of the lights along my path that have pushed me and taught me and held me in the midsts of it all. 

*****

traveler and me . washington coast, july 2004

this evening, an audio post that includes a senses memory and just a few thoughts about how traveler taught me about love and grief.

(just click on june 2 below to hear it; it is about seven minutes long)

thank you so much for sharing your own stories throughout this little project i am doing. today, i would love to hear your stories about the animals in your life who teach you...

june 2

you will.

i can hear you laughing as though someone might just be about ready to tickle you. you laugh so loud and long until you can hardly breathe. i wonder what time of day it is and what happened five minutes ago, five hours ago in your world. i see you, a little girl who has a little brother as evidenced by that plush ball perfect for a crawling baby brother in the photo. i see you and know that in this moment you felt just as loved as you did before he came into the world. before you wished on a penny at geno's and came back to the table to inform everyone you had wished for a baby brother. i know that sofa that pulled out into a bed where your grandparents would stay when you moved to the house on oak road. but now, now that sofa is in the family room and i can see the green chair and the built-in bookshelves and hear the rolling stones or is it neil diamond now playing on the record player. i see that you are safe in this moment of from the depths of your soul laughter. i see that you are smiling that huge showing the gums smile that people who really know you see when you feel safe. i can see you and hear you and imagine how soft your cheek might feel if you rushed up to the person taking this photo and hugged that person so close so you nuzzled your cheek against his neck and breathed in aqua velva and love. 

i think about all this as i sit here feeling a baby move inside me. this baby we've been told is a daughter moves inside me tonight and i call my mother to tell her and then, i sit inside the circle of it all and remember how loved you are, how loved we are. and even though the road to this moment of contentment and truth will be filled with so much you cannot even imagine and it won't always be safe to smile and be you and wish on pennies, in this moment of giggles and looking into the camera, know that you will find your way. 

yes, baby girl, you will find your way.

november 14

 

me and my dad . long ago

i hear the laughter and the sounds from the carousel as we spin spin spin and go up and down and pretend we are flying. i smell the popcorn and see all the faces from up above. i taste a tinge of fear with the excited butterflies in my belly. i feel my hair flying around me and then i grip the side again as soon as i finish waving. as the deflated, oh we are going down now sound signals the end of this adventure, i hear myself, "can we go again?" but then we are off to peter pan or mr. toad's or the people movers, which i can never get enough of. this laughter. this "yes, we can go again." this holding onto a hand you trust. this is what i know.