her dream come true

We let my mother row last weekend.

Tightly ensconced with a life jacket, we let her upon the sound.

Allowing her to go on the Sound was a huge step for us.

Watching her soar over beloved waves, I saw the oars lightly touch the tops of them. I loved how she knew that she was not digging into the water and thus – off she went with stronger strokes in an energy all her own.

She was the happiest that afternoon. Surrounded by her loved ones and rowing – her two loves – she was content.

I wish for more rowing to help stabilize a wandering mind.


Understanding Anxiety

Traffic has the ability to induce anxiety.

When one is stuck in traffic, over and over, dread foreshadows the beginning of anxiety.

Deeply exhaling anxious thoughts diminishes the effect of traffic woes.

Stuck in the never ending line of slow traffic, while trying to get home in time so my son can use it for traveling to his outings, can be a beast.

As a single mom, working, traveling, ensuring that my kids are well fed – are the most crucial elements of my day. To accomplish everything, I must be grounded and centered.

Sometimes all it takes is a simple breath of relief.

I just don’t know…

Other than holding her hand, I don’t know how to help my mother relax and enjoy.

Enjoy life, our times together, and to breathe.

It seems that her anxiety is at a high pitch and won’t stop.

Finding opportunities to go there without others is rare.

My sister is one of the few that understands the need for our mom to have peace and live in safe and peaceful environments. Yet she lives far away.

Maybe all she needs is prayer, someone to breathe for her, and alleviate any worries she might have or allow.

Holding her hand for now ~ breathing a prayer.

Emerging stories

And with that, her stories continue to emerge from a brain that loosens from the bonds of forced structured thought into insights about her childhood.

Perhaps this is what differs Alzheimer sufferers from other aging stars – how the mind loosens its grip on the present while surfacing memories arise to be told.

Each little caress of her word, inspires me to be and do.


I remember being surrounded by color growing up.

Oriental rugs that my parents insured to the Laura Ashley wallpaper in the Bed & Breakfast rooms, our house was tastefully decorated with real antiques and flowers.

My parents house is a lovely mix of yellow and sunset red walls that lovingly hold valuable items – some, slowly disappearing.

Now, as my spirit/child outgrows my self/ego, I am filling my life with the beauty of color.

Tis a great healing indeed.

tea bags

Last Saturday, I opened a small cafe. It is a nonprofit cafe that is run solely by volunteers. Only the Executive Director and the two chefs are paid employees. Opening the cafe gives me the chance to breathe a prayer of peace throughout the rooms.

I check my phone and saw that my dad had called. I called him back. He and my mother ended up having lunch at the cafe. My mother only needs hot water and eats very little.

I told her about the tea that the nonprofit uses. It’s called Compassion Tea and is another nonprofit. The tea is very fresh and always smells heavenly when being made. It’s one of the easiest drinks to make too.

My mother looked sad and hurriedly asked me to take some of her teabags so that we, the nonprofit, could give them to people.

I looked at her.

Taking a deep breath, I told her that a cafe couldn’t take tea from a patron and give it or sell it to others.

Her look of confusing cut me deeply. Fighting back tears, I walked to the counter to help other people.

I am getting better in that I didn’t feel lost when they left.

I felt sad that she is losing so much of herself…

Grasping for the hand that once led me.