Do the storms ever stop?
But neither do the rainbows.
Do the storms ever stop?
But neither do the rainbows.
I watch my children as they go through things that I absolutely remember going through myself and can’t help but feel proud.
I have worked to keep open communication with them all, while firmly keeping the mother child roles in place. I will find out so much later that I missed or messed up on because that is the way that this job works.
However for today I will sit back and allow myself to be proud of them for the choices they make. I will also chose to be proud of the way my husband and I have raised them so far. I look forward to more of these feelings to help counteract the days I feel the polar opposite.
Growing up every Saturday afternoon I knew I could find my father in his bedroom playing records on an old record player. As I got a little older he advanced to big speakers attached to whatever the newest computer model he could afford to have. The one constant however was the music.
The man taught me the love of sound.
The feel of the bass coming through the floorboard and pounding a distinct rythm into my soul.
The sound of the harmonies had an absolute calming effect on whatever stresses my childhood overthinking had caused over the last seven days.
He would pull out a chess set sometimes for us to spar without words. Shifting little wooden pieces around the board attempting to out -think each other.
I’ve managed to fall in love with music just the way he does. Every sort of music has heart and soul, even if its not my taste.
I envy those that can close their eyes and play their feelings on an instrument. I dawdled and gave feeble attempts but was never able to truly make magic happen. Not even the type of magic originally spun by someone else.
I’ve come to accept my place in the musical world is simply through someone else’s imagination.
Instead I dedicate every emotion I feel, and every Saturday afternoon, to loud speakers attached to a music playing device like my daddy taught me.
‘Twas the night before Christmas, when all through the house
Not a creature was stirring, not even a mouse;
The stockings were hung by the chimney with care,
In hopes that St. Nicholas soon would be there;
The children were nestled all snug in their beds;
While visions of sugar-plums danced in their heads;
And mamma in her ‘kerchief, and I in my cap,
Had just settled our brains for a long winter’s nap,
When out on the lawn there arose such a clatter,
I sprang from my bed to see what was the matter.
Away to the window I flew like a flash,
Tore open the shutters and threw up the sash.
The moon on the breast of the new-fallen snow,
Gave a lustre of midday to objects below,
When what to my wondering eyes did appear,
But a miniature sleigh and eight tiny rein-deer,
With a little old driver so lively and quick,
I knew in a moment he must be St. Nick.
More rapid than eagles his coursers they came,
And he whistled, and shouted, and called them by name:
“Now, Dasher! now, Dancer! now Prancer and Vixen!
On, Comet! on, Cupid! on, Donder and Blixen!
To the top of the porch! to the top of the wall!
Now dash away! dash away! dash away all!”
As leaves that before the wild hurricane fly,
When they meet with an obstacle, mount to the sky;
So up to the housetop the coursers they flew
With the sleigh full of toys, and St. Nicholas too–
And then, in a twinkling, I heard on the roof
The prancing and pawing of each little hoof.
As I drew in my head, and was turning around,
Down the chimney St. Nicholas came with a bound.
He was dressed all in fur, from his head to his foot,
And his clothes were all tarnished with ashes and soot;
A bundle of toys he had flung on his back,
And he looked like a pedler just opening his pack.
His eyes–how they twinkled! his dimples, how merry!
His cheeks were like roses, his nose like a cherry!
His droll little mouth was drawn up like a bow,
And the beard on his chin was as white as the snow;
The stump of a pipe he held tight in his teeth,
And the smoke, it encircled his head like a wreath;
He had a broad face and a little round belly
That shook when he laughed, like a bowl full of jelly.
He was chubby and plump, a right jolly old elf,
And I laughed when I saw him, in spite of myself;
A wink of his eye and a twist of his head
Soon gave me to know I had nothing to dread;
He spoke not a word, but went straight to his work,
And filled all the stockings; then turned with a jerk,
And laying his finger aside of his nose,
And giving a nod, up the chimney he rose;
He sprang to his sleigh, to his team gave a whistle,
And away they all flew like the down of a thistle.
But I heard him exclaim, ere he drove out of sight–
“Happy Christmas to all, and to all a good night!”
By Clement Clarke Moore
I have been being called out to the water for a few months now but the weather keeps getting in my way along with busy schedules of course. The other day I finally found the cutest beach to go to and I have to admit I felt a sense of being home. How can someone who has never lived on the water feel so completely at home when near it? Still havent gotten out onto a boat yet, and I may have to admit that I wont be able to this year.
But the serenity I found while staring out at its vastness is unmatched. The way my heart calmed to listen to the beat of the surf lapping on the sand.
Watching my middle sons excitement as he learned to battle against the waves made my heart swell. He feels it too. That calling. That need to be there. My oldest fights and complains about the sand, the youngest is scared to get too far in since she doesnt like water in her face.
To find something to tame the one wild child tho makes it even better. Id go back with him right now if I wasnt chained to this work chair by the shackles of being an adult.
Sunday morning coffee
Sitting on the porch
Listening to the birds chirping
The gentle breeze swaying the trees
After the week I have had
This is exactly what I need.
If only I could keep this feeling.
I recently had a close friend of mine leave our workplace. We planned for multiple get togethers and we just knew that we would text each other just as much as we had been.
The first week goes by and we spoke every dang day. Then as the weeks went on it sure became faurther apart that we sent each other cute memes or updates.
It is now a few months since she left and we barely speak.
Adult friendships are hard.
Everyone said that I would get over it.
They said give it some time.
The feelings would fade.
Well I have news for them.
It’s not fading.
I am completely and utterly….
Obsessed with F.R.I.E.N.D.S.