pelicansandprose

I have read that the secret to improving writing is showing up everyday. I’m here. I’m showing up, but I don’t really have a story because…

I didn’t heed my own advice. I was on screens too long today. It rained and I didn’t get outside. I watched several sessions of the VSRA conference, FaceTimed with a friend, researched distance learning to alleviate my anxiety, and watched Ralph Fletcher teach writing on Facebook. He made it look so easy and natural.

It was my son’s 40th birthday. That meant more time on the phone as my family brainstormed 40 ways for him to celebrate this significant birthday when he couldn’t go out to eat, or see a movie, or have friends over. Some of them were pretty funny. We actually came up with about 50 ways he could celebrate. I hope he did.

Too much screen time today. More conference sessions and a google hangout for school tomorrow. This teacher needs to set some boundaries on screen time. At least it’s not supposed to rain. A walk is needed!

I was raised in a family that always went to Church. We marked time from Sunday to Sunday. We had Sunday clothes and Sunday shoes that we wore the whole day, not just to go to Church. Now, not being able to go to Church has been an adjustment.

My sister, Evelyn, is the “keeper of traditions” in our family. She’s the one who hosts for holidays, remembers birthdays, calls our elderly aunt and uncle, and goes the extra mile to serve. She always makes a “Sunday dinner” and while her kids were home, there was always a special dessert.

Evelyn sews beautifully and has made a new “Easter dress” nearly every year. This year, she sewed face masks instead.

This past Sunday, I smiled when Evelyn announced her “Sunday” clothes outfit–a shirt with buttons.

Little things to make life seem normal.

This is a day to be gentle.
This is a day to be quiet.
This is a day to process.

3/23/2020 at 2:00 p.m. Governor Northam announced we would not go back to school this year.

This is a day to try to understand.
This is a day to surrender for a time.
This is a day to balance sadness with gratitude.

May we be well.

I was trying to figure out my position in relation to the coronavirus. I wondered, “Am I on the inside looking out, or on the outside looking in?”

It doesn’t really matter, does it?

However, there have been different times in my life when I have felt on the outside looking in. It’s not a very pleasant feeling, but I won’t go there.

For now, while I’m on the inside looking out, I’m finally reading:

I’m on page 94. (I read Book 1 two summers ago.)

Who knows? I may be able to read them all before school starts again.

A few weeks ago, I was looking around on Amazon and saw a cool fort. “Four-year olds like forts,” I thought, but before purchasing I gave my daughter a quick call. With some hesitation she said, “Sure. He loves forts.” Pause. “But we have several fort-type things. Why don’t you pick out some books. He always loves the books you send.”

“I can do books!” I felt so relieved. I have quite a few grandchildren in many stages of growing up and I’m not much of a shopper. But books are my love. I was so happy that I didn’t have to keep searching for the “right gift.”

We had a book fair at school just before the school closed on March 13. I bought a stack of books I thought he would enjoy.

These are the books that were in the stack:

The Old Truck isn’t really for four-year olds, except that my grandson loves vehicles of any kind. So I bought it.

I’m hoping that someday he’ll know me better because of Bear Came Along. I adore the story, the illustrations, and all the implications about identity and community.

He loves funny books; hence, the Jack books and Monkey & Cake.

Where’s Waldo was pure nostalgia of hours with my own children on the couch searching for Waldo.

Google Duo has been a lifeline, especially this past week of being home and feeling a bit alone. Today, I got to share as my grandson opened his birthday present with his mom and got to hear my daughter read to her son. Happy doesn’t begin to describe all the feelings of that moment.

We often blame the weather for the various shapes, sizes, angles, and health of trees. As I walked through the woods at River Bend today, I wondered if there was something more than weather to explain why trees so near each other grow in such different ways.

Why are some so straight and tall while others seem to have struggled, twisting, almost writhing toward the sky? How do some trees thrive with their roots exposed? Some seem to require so little to survive from just a crack in the rock.

Today I saw trees, broken and decaying. Today I saw trees, choked by heavy vines. Today I saw trees with cancerous growths. Today I saw trees persisting, living, growing. All beautiful. In every stage of life. No matter the weather.

I can learn so much from trees.

Ping.

Text message incoming.

Swipe up.

There it is.

Maggie’s story.

It read:

I was skipping. I saw a mountain. Then I wanted to climb up it. Then I found a stone and sat on it.

Exactly what I’d like to do.

As I went on my walk today, I started to think about how quickly things can change and how quickly my feelings can change. Two days ago, I walked the same sidewalks and turned the same corners. Two days ago, I saw beauty and my spirits were lifted. Two days ago, I was able to get out of my head and could enjoy the sensory wonders around me. That didn’t happen today, even though I tried.

Instead, I started thinking about the word “wonder.” Here’s what the dictionary says:

My sense of wonder two days ago was very different from the wonderings of today. The world is full of wonders. But today, those wonders are clouded by my wondering.

Like everyone, I’m wondering, “How long?”

“How can I help?”

“Are the families of my students okay?”

“Is my daughter safe in Utah where there was an earthquake today?” (5.7!)

“What if. . .”

And “what if. . .”

When wonder becomes worry, it’s time to just stop.

Breathe.

Trust.

Love.

After work when it’s cold, my retired husband often greets me, “Wanna watch a movie?” Most school nights I say, “Not tonight,” and he understands. The two evening hours pass quickly with dinner, dishes, and preparations for the next day of work.

Now, when the weather is warmer, the question is, “Wanna play ping-pong?” Today was a beautiful day. Since we were both home, I said, “Sure.” I was working on a knitting project and Steve was working on taxes, so we agreed to play at 5:00.

5:00. I hear him coming up the stairs. He got the paddles and a ball. I wondered, “Will this be the day?” We slide open the doors to the back porch where we play on a blue outdoor ping-pong table. But here’s the deal: I have never won. Not once.

Today, we were neck-and-neck up until the score was 14-14. “Haha!” I thought, “Here’s my chance! I’m going to do it today!” Soon it was 17-18; then 18-19; then 18-20. It was so close! I started to plan my text message to the kids to tell them that Dad’s 45-year streak was over.

My game has improved. At least now I can see the top spin on the ball and I have learned to watch for his off-speed returns and high lobs. But the man has some kind of magic.

18-21. He beat me AGAIN.

I’m as guilty as most about relying on text messages and email to communicate with friends and family. I say “guilty,” but why should there be guilt? I guess it’s the current way of communicating. However, it felt so good to get a piece of “real mail” today.

My almost nine-year old grandson sent me a letter. It made me really happy that he thought of me, and I could see the twinkle in his eye as he gently reminded me that his birthday is coming!

Ben’s letter has inspired me to write some old-fashioned letters while I’m at home “social distancing.” Perhaps someone else would like to get “real mail” that doesn’t come from Amazon.