Irreverent Eloquence

       I've been addicted to Instagram lately. I love me some filters, no doubt about it. There is this amazing draw to pull up a snapshot in that silly app, flip through every single option and see how it morphs my photo, how it edits the 'film.' I love that they all have cutesy titles too, "Rise" and "Toaster," "Earlybird" and "Nashville." It works well to have them cataloged that way, lined up for me to choose how to modify the life I captured for a moment.        My brain works this way too I think. Maybe that's why I love the app so much, because I can see through these few clicks into my own past, can look at how simple a moment I grabbed and embellished, cropped and filtered into a perfect memory. How do you make your memories? I hadn't thought about it much until this spring. I began reviewing events and days in my life and saw them through completely different eyes when I realized that in the remembering, I was chan...

       I'll finally go there. Into FROZEN territory. My daughters have fallen in love with this movie and its soundtrack echoes in our home, in our vehicles, and I swear even into our dreams. You would think it may be the stuff of nightmares, a Disney princess movie mantra sneaking its way into every corner of your life. Oddly enough, or maybe sadly, this movie and all its quotes and songs and characters fit us so well that we don't even notice anymore that we're using it as reference.        I answered the phone just the other day, my mother-in-law on the line, saying "Answer. Just answer. Did it answer? I was worried it didn't know how to answer." She understandably didn't laugh and I found myself explaining the humor, my phone not functioning and the comparison to Anna and Olaf. I think I got a pity chuckle but trust me, that knock-knock joke gets full guffaws in my living room when my husband uses it.        My daughters...

       They say that Grief is "work." That it takes time to push through it and resolve, if it ever does. There are stages according to theorists, levels to wade through, emotions to push past until the Grief is over.        I have to tell you though, it's a lot of hard work. Sure, the beginning stages just happen. The shock is a fog that envelops you and there is no way around it, even for those logical souls among us. It cycles too, though not exactly as simply as this shows. It feels more like a roller coaster, one day fine and the next the bottom drops out again. I've been finding it difficult to keep up with the Grief work.         I have a few other careers that are taking some of my time. During the week, I'm a stay at home mom to my three daughters, balancing Type 1 Diabetes in my 6-year old along with my wonderful Diva with more attitude than I know what to do with, and throw in my 2-year old that is m...

       In the wake of the death that rocked my world I struggled to understand. I had assembled the greatest team, the best support, and together we had put every domino in show-place to win. Yet when the pieces fell, a trick had been played, a side slide set when I was unaware and my win never came.        Waking up into a defeated shock did not turn off the inner thoughts racing around my hospital room. I thought first of introductions and inductions to faith. Then of decomposition and imposition to the staff. I thought of formal notification and minimally of missed celebration. When I realized I had my team still assembled, that they were waiting for me to pick up the pieces and direct them how to proceed, I obliged. Those that stood by our side through the night, pacing in waiting rooms stuffy with dread and stifling with grief, were exhausted by daybreak and sat on the floor next to my bed, the emotional toll aside from the sleepless...

Thud Thud Thud Thud.      It started just this week, a knocking in my laundry room, rhythmic in its pattern and consistent with its drone. I was alone at first when I loaded the dryer, my girls away with Grandma and my husband off to work. Tasked with readying his vacation wardrobe, I fancied a belt or balled up sleeve causing the noise, an annoyance but something I could ignore for the day.       Today I was setting about to do piles of wash, four suitcases home from weeks of travel and there it is again. Thud  Thud  Thud  Thud. It is regular, this beating drum, predictable and loud though not altogether unpleasant at first. I park myself to work, content to feel a cool breeze while I while away some time alone. My girls are home again, playing about the house and yard, and I can hear them through the window teasing each other. Shortly though, they are then coming to tell me about the disagreement. They open the door to my office and t...

       I was talking to a good friend of mine tonight and she asked what I planned to write about next, saying she hoped it was something happy. She said that after my few brief breaks lately that my writing is dark and sad. From a literary perspective, it seems I have lost my balance, that the end of my posts don't lift the reader back to equilibrium but rather drop them into the pit with me, on uneven footing and all off kilter in the world.         I've been thinking a lot about balance lately. The half full glass, or is it half empty? My view of  the world has shifted perhaps from being optimistic and upbeat to something cynical and melancholy. I know I've said before that I have long subscribed to the philosophy that to enjoy the good times in life, we must endure the tough times. I still believe that whole-heartedly and it is in reviewing this lately that I am struggling. I can imagine my other life, the one I want to have b...

       After my first baby came home from the NICU, my  husband and I visited our hometown with new baby in tow. We stopped to say hello and show her off at my aunt and uncle's house, smiling as they cradled the wrinkly pink thing we called our little Fish. I watched her get passed around the room, nervous as a new mom always is for the simple reasons but because she was early and small, I was anxious about sharing her too much for her immune system and because she did not bottle feed well.        My aunt chatted me up, putting me at ease with a banter about life, our jobs and home and checking to see how new parenthood was treating us. She asked, "Do you even remember what life was like before you had her?" The question struck me as such an odd one. Of course I remembered that life, barely a few months before, my daughter wasn't here and I knew nothing of motherhood. As a matter of fact, my daughter having been born two months early and sp...

       I dimmed the lights, a cue to gather close to the parquet floor. I signaled the DJ who turned up the romance for the newlyweds as they walked on, hand in hand. The party really began then, and I left it in the dark of that ballroom, busying about keeping my thoughts at bay as I marched and worked tables.        I'm not sure how many times I had to say 'no thank you,' to the well-meaning invitations. I did not count as I smiled politely and declined to join them in the crowd as the music swelled. I kept a distant eye on the gathering of swaying hips and arms swinging over heads. It was not going to be my scene. I know I've been caught many a time, kicking up my heels and singing along, letting a fun and carefree night of celebration take me away from myself, but not this time.        I had to be stern more than once, set my lips and shake my head, keeping my shoulders square to only manage the tasks at hand, not allowi...