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Thursday proved to be an emotional day or I should say, the end of the day culminated in one much needed release.

It was about the desk, letting go, attachment, faith in humanity; and it was not really about the desk at all.

“I’ll be right back, I just need to pull my car up.” I walked out of the Goodwill store with a bounce in my step, a large smile across my face. I needed this lift in my spirit. I put my bag of Goodwill finds on the front seat, pushed down the back seats and laid out the sheet that I purchased to transport my new desk.

I walked into the store, the smile from my face now a downward crescent, the two customer service men that had carried my desk to the front, were gone. “Welcome to Goodwill, can I help you find anything.” The door greeter stood there with a smile.

“My desk! It was just here!” Tears starting welling up, my voice became strained, and then I couldn’t hold it in; I was sobbing and asked what happened to my desk, explaining that I had just gone to get my car to pick it up.

“A man just took it. He said he was your husband and was taking it home to you to see if it was what you wanted.”

I looked at the men in disbelief. “But, I’m here alone. I don’t understand. Someone took my desk!” I’m speaking through sobs, tears pouring out of my eyes. I just keep repeating, “My desk. I just want the desk.”

Finally, I give in to the situation and tell them I’ll be right back. I need to move my car back and that I’ll get the receipt for a refund.

I yell to no one in particular, “what is wrong with humanity! Why would someone do this!” I’m shaky and my driving is not steady.

By the time I come back, one of the customer service men comes outside to meet me; he says he thinks there’s been a misunderstanding. I listen. He thinks that the man took the wrong desk.

The woman that rang up my purchase explained that there was a woman that had put a desk on hold and her husband was supposed to pick it up. She thought there was a phone number on the call log. She said she could refund me and call me later. I asked if she could call right then, that I really didn’t want to come back, and I still wanted the desk.

I stood up front near the cash registers in a corner, feeling exhausted, with puffy eyes, runny nose. I was just thankful that I hadn’t yelled; I didn’t swear; I didn’t say anything mean.

The customer service woman came back with good news. The wife was calling the husband about the mixup to tell him to turnaround to take back the wrong desk and get the right desk.

On this day it had been a week since my uncle passed away. For the past four month’s I would understand how difficult the caregiving process is, especially with such an independent spirit, as my dear uncle. We knew that his health was compromised, that his 87 year-old body had caught up to him, his heart was weak, that somehow, his days were growing closer.

As difficult as it was, I am grateful that I was there during his last stage of life, that I was able to help him speak to the right people in the hospital to make his pain go away and administer morphine, so that he could have his wish for the end of the chapter of his life and to do so with dignity and comfort. There are so many details that play out in my mind. But what stands out is how important it was to be there in the hospital during the last days of his life and to just be there for him in general. There were many quick decisions, quick actions in order to make sure he was without pain, and making sure the family was there so that he would be able to say goodby before the morphine slowed his heart rate to a point where he woudln’t be able to respond or open his eyes.

As difficult as this experience–this journey was, I have gained more from it than words could possibly convey.

I am honored that I was able to participate in my uncle’s care, that although we had our moments, because we always did when we didn’t agree, I felt that I contributed to his well-being. I know that each of us interacted with my uncle in different ways. I saw different sides of my brother’s–not always good; and I’m glad to have seen a side of myself that I knew was there, but that I had not had the opportunity to see in this particular juncture of life.

Goodnight, dear Uncle. I know that you are in peace now.

Breeze blows by, cars zoom. Tummy is satisfied. Small, quick sketch of what sits across from me as I eat my lunch. 

A few moments everyday to do things that balance, calm, relax–things that matter. Little important moments that carry us through the days–days that are filled with too much of what we don’t need. 

Take many little breaks to soak in the moments while we still can. 

Today the body feels like it’s bein pulled down. Energy is low. I breathe in and out deeply–soaking in the bright spots of flowers and blue sky, reaching for the wind to pull me up, to soar high above the tree tops with the chirpers and blackbirds. 

I’ve actually had fun attempting self-portraits in the past, and I still enjoy trying to draw myself from time to time. 

The urge most recently came about a few months ago when I decided to do a quick sketch from a photo to use instead of a photo of myself as my Avitar for a class I was taking. I liked how it turned out. 

This is a recent attempt that I decided to sketch because of two new things: my perm and new glasses. 

The glasses are inevitable. It was time, but the cost always hurts.

I’ve been wanting so much to come to the page, so I’m writing myself through it. I need to get back to my writing practice. Maybe I feel freer today because a class has ended, because the warm sunshine on my face as I walk to lunch energizes me, and because there is an end in sight to the busy season. 

It’s been at least 10 years since I last got a perm and I swore that I would not get another. I needed a change, a lift to my step. I plunged forward. The hair stylist, also owner of the salon, did a great job. She had done enough perms over the years, that I knew I was in good hands. 

Self-portraits have a tendency to reveal something we may have not noticed about ourselves in that moment that a regular photograph may not catch. Adding the color by mood and feeling adds another element. I love the process. 

This morning I saw a woman kneeling down with her phone camera in hand, honing in on something in the crevices of one of those large metal grates that you often run into on the sidewalks. I tried to sneak a glance as I walked by. I think she was capturing some sort of greenery that was growing, unnoticed. 

It was nice seeing someone doing that. I know there are many others out there capturing these small moments, things that are hidden from us until we stop to look. I know I’m not the only one; and that’s why it’s nice to see someone else in action, as I might be on a day I’m leaning over some small beauty that’s growing through the cracks of the world. 

An autumn day gives way to the feeling of winter. In the air the scent of someone cozy next to a warm fire. 

I look out the window waiting for my lunch, taking in the orange and yellow leaves against a perfectly grey sky. 

Rain shall come soon to wash away the impurities, wipe the slate clean to begin anew. 


Sitting amongst the birch trees,
I listen to the day fade in and out, as I put markings down on the page, coax an image that is enough for me to recognize this moment, eager to continue marking the days–marking the pages with, not only words, but real images. 

I actually didn’t think we would have any view of the strip when we checked in. We were pleased with the view that we did have. It was relaxing to look out the window at Paris, Las Vegas, to see the dancing fountains of the Bellagio that are especially impressive at night from the top of the Eiffel Tower.

It was a great get-a-way. On our last day, walking back to our hotel through busy streets of people–some that had noticeably exceeded their alcohol limits–I felt ready to leave this bustling city.

Yet here I am, missing it already, planning our next trip in my mind.

**

Blinking lights and bustling streets,
this part of the city never sleeps. As the days run into weekend,
activity and people multiply before my eyes. Romantic lights
of the Bellagio tantalize. Lights and sound from every direction
rest upon my senses, pulling me in different directions. Nature far off in the background, still in sight, offering a reminder–a sense of grounding and perspective.

 

As I exit the library doors, outside
the majestic pines and quietness of the street wrap around me like a
warm embrace.

I have to stop and ask myself if the Universe is trying to send me a message. It’s an unexpected message…or do I even know what the message is?

It all started with an out of the blue exchange with a woman walking with her three children. I wasn’t even but a few feet away from her when she waved her hand toward me while saying something that I didn’t hear. I thought she was asking for directions and said, “excuse me?”

Waving her hand around my head area, she said, “you have a strong aura, my dear. Would you like a psychic reading?”  Then she waved her hand to where I had my fleece jacket tied around my waste. “You have a lot going on.” I looked down as if there would be something there, as though I would see all that she saw.

I told her that I was on my way to lunch and that I didn’t have time. I really just wanted to move on.

“No problem. Would you like one of my cards?”

My shoulders lifted into a shrug, about to say no; instead, I said, “sure, why not.”

She bent down to fetch her purse from the bottom of the stroller and pulled out a zippered pouch that seemed to contain a variety of different business cards. I thanked her and took the card.

As I edged my way between her daughters, one who had three woman entranced with her small bucket of pencils for sale, ooohing and ahhwing, I knew that I woudlnt’ be making the call to get my reading done.

Once at my lunch spot, I took the card out of my bag and looked at it wondering why she had chosen me at that moment in time to solicit her services.  I thought of the many times that I have had my tarot cards read, occasionally picking one out of the deck on my own for some guidance; I wondered if perhaps this was the Universe telling me that it was time to do some internal work. I don’t feel like it really, but maybe I’m not seeing clearly. Maybe something inside of my soul is leaking out clues that are being mirrored back to me in some way.

When I was done with lunch, I walked back in the opposite direction. When I came about half-way around the block, a teenage boy asked if he could borrow a quarter. He clearly needed it for the parking meter that he was next to when he asked.

“A quarter. Yes, I think I do have one.” I rummaged in my bad, handed him a quarter, and off I went.

Ok, fine. Two small moments of time that somehow seemed related to each other in my mind, but nothing to make a really big fuss about.

But then yesterday I received a phone call from an unknown number. When I listened to the voice message it was a pastor that was randomly calling–who knows how he found my number–I don’t actually go to church on a regular basis. His message said something along the lines that he was calling me to invite me to his congregation and that if I would like him to pray for me or someone I know, call or text him.

With these three coincidences within the week, I must admit, they’ve made me wonder…