a hairbrush

Things were a little hectic this morning. I had an agenda and I wanted to keep it but then...the phone rang - my sister. Then it rang again...it was my father. And one more time...a good friend. Things were okay, just an hour behind schedule and ring-ring...my good friend again with an extra tidbit.

God must have wanted to humor me...to remind me that I'm loved.

Out the door...just an hour and half behind schedule- but we made it! And then my phone rang...my mother.

Thank you- I feel your love today.

It's been a loong week. When life is challenging, time moves so slowly you wonder if the clock is even ticking. Look at it, shake it - did it stop? Oh wait, it's m-o-v-i-n-g. Vacations are never like that. You get there and then it's time to go home again. I'm convinced that a person can never have too much fun. Perhaps I need to find a little more fun in those difficult days...

An errand or two and we were there, at the care center to visit with my grandma and also a dear friend. I enjoy these days. A "home" full of gentle, wrinkled faces who, if I had the time, could tell me stories for hours. They are always full of warm greetings for my happy little companion and I. Nothing breathes life into a room like a sweet little face with dancing feet. Evie has made "friends" with several of the staff there and they always comment on how much she grows in a week. These are good days...

We found grandma in her comfortable chair reading a book. She looked so beautiful in her pink sweater and trademark necklace- a raindow of colors and textures (Joyce's creation). She was very pleased that we had come. Evie ran to her and lifted up her hands. Grandma is still strong- she picked her up and Evie snuggled right into her lap. They talk about the necklace, the stuffed kitten on her table, where to find noses, ears, eyes..all the important things. After a bit, Evie grows tired of sitting in one place and is off to explore. Nothing is off limits to those curious little hands. And as we watch her, grandma asked if I would please brush her hair. Such a sweet way to finish our time together...

I found the brush next to the sink, where she said it would be. When I returned, I saw that she had moved forward in her chair so I could reach better. I took out her clips and unbraided her soft snowy, white hair. I started brushing gently  but she told me not to be shy, to REALLY brush it. And so I did, timidly at first, and then more comfortably as she told me how good it felt. It was as if time stopped, and I didn't want it to go any faster. Such a sweet moment. Evie stood and stared at us, caught in it too. And then it was time, time to put the brush away and rebraid her hair. But, I was okay with that...I had the memory...

welcome to my studio

I like to pretend. Today I whipped out my Nikon Coolpix and pretended that I was a photographer. I set up my "studio" (tipped the coffee table over and propped it up on the couch so I could drape my background up) and added some valentine decor to create the "perfect" scene. The "perfect" scene also involved the use of the vaccuum cleaner (to prop up the corner of the backdrop) but we made it work. The vaccuum used to be a big scary monster that ate children, but since it took up residence in the corner of the living room, it has become a friend (and a very fun word to say...bacuum, bacuum, bacuum).

Wala! Welcome, to my studio...my name is mama and I will be your photographer today.

Unfortunately, sweet Evie did not share in my passion to pretend that we were going to take beautiful photos that people might mistake for having been taken by a "real" photographer. She doesn't ever pretend that she likes "real" photographers- not on a personal level of course, but merely from the standpoint of well, just that. Standing still at any point. So, expecting her to pretend along was a stretch...but feeling hopeful, we tried.

Let's just say, it's a good thing  "candid" and "photojournalism" are popular styles of photography these days....

fresh start

Finally-a name, a design, a beginnng....and a blank mind.

I'm an actress. It's just a small part really, but each part is so important to the whole show.  I can hear the other performers on stage. Found a chair in the corner backstage, I'm sitting here hearsing and rehearsing my lines. "My life is valuable." Yes, that's my line. That's all I have to say. But, somehow, under the lights, on stage, with the whole audience watching... it's like having to recite the Gettysburg Address from memory. Only, I've never memorized that, so I might stand there like a fool and have absolutely nothing to say; my mind as blank as the first page in a notebook. "My life is valuable, My life is valuable, My life is valuable." It's okay...it's going to be okay...I was made for this part.