Goodbye

Truth is.....Time does not heal all wounds. Saying goodbye is not easy and losing someone leaves a pain inside that never goes away. I've lost two brothers and when I hear time heals all wounds I just smile and nod. But time does not heal wounds that run through the heart. Nothing mends that hurt. Sure I've moved on and I have laughed and lived but every once and a while that twinge is felt. When an event that I want to share with my brothers comes up I feel it. Ever so often I break and cry like a baby. This is my new normal. I want them back, I want to talk with them, hug them, laugh with them. I can't. I will never be okay with that. So when you are faced with the loss of someone or you are in the company of someone who has lost someone it's okay to know time will not heal the wounds. Feeling the pain is part of the love you feel for them. The love that you want to express to them. You will survive. Life will go on. You will have a pain in your heart where the hole is. It's okay.

Coffee

Truth is.....coffee can nourish your soul if done right.
Ahhhhh, coffee! That first sip of the morning. It's like being away from your home for so long you forgot what your own bed felt like. Then you return and that first night you slip under the covers, your toes slide down and feel that familiar feeling. You snuggle in, pulling the covers up, smelling your linen as your head softly sinks in to your own pillow and you let out a soft ahhhhh. That is what my first sip of coffee is like every morning. It's my drug, my release. I make a ritual out of it. Quietly I wake, avoiding the squeaky floor plank as not to wake the kids. I make it downstairs and into the kitchen like a mouse not wanting to wake the house cat. I see it! My one cup coffee maker. I swear my heart skips a beat. I go to it and touch its smooth surface as to say, "good morning dear". Lifting the lid to put my coffee in and it answers me back with its soft click letting me know he is ready to brew my first morning cup. I hear the release of steam and a final sputter and behold my black gold is gently waving good morning to me in my cup with it's soft ripples like waves on a still lake with an ever so slight breeze. I feel the warmth as my fingers wrap around the mug. The mug which I choose with as much care as I do my coffee.

My coffee mug is just as important as the coffee. Its part of the experience. When I was younger and unaware that my morning coffee was more than a liquid dumped in a container to be gulped down, I would use any receptacle that would hold my coffee. It usually had someones logo on it, most likely a free gift for signing up for something. Year after year I would drink my coffee like a commuter rushing to catch a train. I did not enjoy the pleasures it could bring when done properly. Finally a friend of mine got me my first proper mug. It was actually a set of mugs. They were cute and stylish. I realized how important it was when I opened the cabinet doors that morning to use my new mug for the first time. I saw them sitting there on the shelf looking so pretty. As I reached in to select my mug I felt different, grown up all of a sudden. I'm not some teenage girl anymore drinking my coffee from a mug that has Newsday on it. I have adorable, classy mugs now. My mug selection has grown and now I have many mugs for coffee that I marvel at. Each one is prettier than the next. I don't even have to have my coffee in it to feel the relaxed intoxication the morning coffee brings me, the mug is almost enough. But I'm not ready yet, next is the coffee selection, and that can be a daunting task.

There are more coffee flavors and types then there are ice cream. Each one is special to someone. Not every coffee is right for me. Too bold takes away that soothing feeling. Too mild and I feel cheated out of the grand prize. So many flavors to choose from too. My morning coffee is special. You can have coffee in the afternoon, in the evening, dinnertime, each one different. For me the morning coffee must be coffee, no added flavor. If I'm feeling "green" I go with a mountain coffee that did not require massive amounts of trees to be cut from a field to grow the coffee in. Always organic because there is nothing enjoyable about chemicals in my coffee. A rich blend is nice, bold enough to give that boost yet mild enough to feel like sitting back with a good book under a warm blanket, as the morning turns to afternoon. It is a process but once you know what you like keeping your cupboard stocked will end the agony of decisions. Almost ready but not quit. The coffee has to be brewed.

There are a few ways to brew your coffee. I have chosen the easiest, but in my opinion not the best. I use the one cup at a time coffee maker. I got it as a gift from my husband and I do love it. I can make a cup in no time at all. I don't waste coffee anymore by brewing a pot and only drinking one cup. It is not the best because the coffee doesn't get to steep. My least favorite is the old way, making a whole pot up, using the filters and having the coffee sit in a glass pot while it slowly burns to a revoutling black sludge. There are two ways to make coffee that I believe are the right way, but it is time consuming. First is the coffee press. My brother introduced me to this method. He told me once I try coffee made this way I will whonder why I ever used a coffee machine. He was right! Oh the rich flavor, the silky texture. It was like drinking the nectar of the gods. I used to make my coffee ONLY this way. It does take time though. Heating water then pouring it into the press on top of the coffee. Now you have to let it steep for a short while. It is divine! After I broke the glass on my second press I  moved on to my one cup per. The last way I know of is, as my friend calls it, cowboy coffee. It too takes time but it is pure. You heat the coffee in water right on the stove, preferably using a flame and not electric. I mean if your gonna drink cowboy coffee at least make it like the cowboys did. Its thick and dark and you have to be careful pouring it into your cup as not to get the grounds in too. You look at it thinking, "this is going to remove my hair", but its smooth, like hot chocolate. Rich and if milk added oh so creamy. I only have cowboy coffee at my friends house, a treat now and again. Once you have it all put together you are ready.

Whatever coffee you choose, mug you drink from, device you brew in, as you pass the coffee past your lips and it slides down your throat, let it ease you into the day with a soft and gentle ahhhhhhh. Now get going the kids are on there way downstairs! Go!

Gift from God

Truth is if you want to know the meaning of life, have a child or two.

I picked out his birthday, and he agreed. The "day" was scheduled one week before he was supposed to arrive. I woke that morning with pain. At the hospital, with monitors beeping, the nurse told me, "it appears your in labor. Guess this was the right day afterall".  I couldn't wait, the excitement was intense. When it was time to go to meet him my heart was bounding. I remember dreaming of him when I was younger. I knew he would come someday, when he was ready. I imagined he watched, looking from above seeing his family grow. He wanted to come but it had to be at the right time. Someone did come, but whoever it was got cold feet and went back. I was so sad, I thought it was him. Now I thought he would never be, it was just not part of the grand plan, he knew better. He did finally make his way through the clouds. There I was about to meet the boy I longed for and thought about for years. Did he know how much he was loved already? Did we prearrange the meeting before? All I knew was I had to hold him and soon.

 I heard his voice for the first time. I wanted to say hello but I was speechless. His father was with him while I lay there looking from afar. I had to wait until I was closed up and my legs were a part of me again. As the two men in my life left the room my heart was filled with joy. As I waited I stared at my feet begging then to move, willing with determination to get them to wiggle. I could not go see him until my legs moved and the drugs inside of me faded away. Finally movement! Slight at first but very quickly my legs were ready to run. "Okay, I'm ready to go up now." I whispered to myself, "oh please take me up now."


The hallways seemed to be a bit longer than I thought. "Are we taking the long way?" I questioned. I swear time was standing still! We arrive at our destination. Still I had to wait, things needed to be done. The tears of joy in his fathers eyes as he entered the room told me what awaited me. No words had to be spoken. Then I heard the rumbling sound of the bassinet making its way down the hallway, getting louder and louder, then it slowed. I saw the shadow enter the doorway right as the nurse turned in. The rush of blood through my body was so warm I could feel my face turn red. I sat up straight, straining to see into the bassinet, I couldn't wait another second till he reached the bedside. I leaned over and looked in. I lost my breath! He was perfect, just as I saw him in my dreams. Gently he was handed to me, I touched his face, my vision was blurred from the tears. I smiled and somehow remembered, we were together again after all this time. We named him Matthew, only later learning the meaning of his name.... "a gift from God." And he truly is.

Inner peace

Truth is... There is no inner peace when your living your life with a house filled with children.
We try, and some succeed, but beware it is a road filled with potholes and sharp turns. I try all the time, "breathe in, exhale out." This is what I tell myself. "Relax your mind, your body, allow your soul to be free." Still nothing! Okay try again..... "sit up straight, breathe deep, fill your lungs, exhale slowly, feel your mind relax, be in this moment of peace.......MOM I NEED YOU!!!!! It's gone. It sounds so easy when I read about "finding your inner peace." Some days are harder and filled with anger and headaches and some I seem to smile all day long. But still that inner peace, that "thing" people search for, still it eludes me. I think the "Secret" is that these teachers of enlightenment don't have screaming kids preventing them from peace. Okay, that's not fair. I know that some of them have kids and I know that everyone has their woes to tell. I wont give up. I shall try to find my inner peace, the calming voice of reason that keeps us sane. I will sit quietly when they are all out of the house and try again......Breathe.  BARK, BARK, BARK, SHIT, I forgot about the dogs....