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Posts Tagged ‘choices’

Traveling Through Time

Posted in Uncategorized, tagged , , , , , , , on November 20, 2012| 6 Comments »

Book Cover - The Return of the Indian The concept of time travel has always fascinated me. I’m not sure, but I think it started some time in grade school, probably from watching The Twilight Zone. One of the first short stories I ever wrote had a time travel twist.  Now, I go to time travel movies; I read time travel books; I watch time travel television shows. Currently I’m reading The Return of the Indian to a fourth grade classroom (I volunteer for Read Aloud West Virginia) and I just last night watched the first two episodes of season four of Quantum Leap. (Thanks to my generous neighbor Ann who owns the complete DVD collection of that show. Yum!)
Quantum Leap - Season Four Cover

Several years ago I was visiting my hometown while reading The Time Traveler’s Wife. There are several scenes in that book where the time traveler interacts with himself at various ages. Being in Lincoln in the neighborhood where I grew up got me to thinking, what if I went for a walk and bumped into my 15-year old self … what would I say to her?

Would I warn her to not get married at 19? Would I tell her to buy stock in Microsoft? Would I beg her to finish college? It seemed like there were so many things I could let her in on that would ultimately result in my life being … being what? Less marred with error? Richer? Happier? Better?
Book Cover - The Time Traveler's Wife

But maybe not. Maybe it would just be different. Maybe not better at all!

There were important lessons I learned from all the choices I made–good and bad. They were lessons I could never learn any way but by living my life. No one could tell me those things, not even my older self! I wouldn’t have believed me, anyway. I know me. I’m skeptical, wary, and slow to trust a stranger, even one who looks just like … uh … my mother and my father blended and then aged. Hmmmm. I’m pretty sure I would have quizzed such a being long and hard before listening.

But if I had somehow convinced her, what would I have said? The best I could come up with was to simply tell her that she was smarter, stronger, and more courageous than she realized. I suppose my 99-year-old self would be telling me that now, too!

So, what would you tell your teenage self if you met her on the street?

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Riding in Style!

Posted in Uncategorized, tagged , , , , , , , , on November 14, 2012| 6 Comments »

This slideshow requires JavaScript.

A couple of months ago a friend of mine left her car in my care while she accepted an extended overseas work assignment. I promised to drive it at least once a week to keep it from doing whatever it is cars do when they sit for long periods of time without being driven.

As you can see from the slide show, this is no ordinary car. And driving it has been no ordinary experience. I’ve discovered that everyone has an opinion about it. Generally, the car finds favor with those who are young (everyone under 10 loves it), easy-going, and female, not that it doesn’t have plenty of male admirers. The most disapproving stares have come from middle-aged men and young rednecks, complete with exaggerated frowns and wagging heads.

At first, I thought it was me. While on the go, I would totally forget WHAT I was driving and just notice that people were pointing, laughing, waving, or frowning. Once, while waiting at a stop sign, a mature gentleman crouched down and stared a hole right through me. I said aloud (although not so he could hear), “What are you lookin’ at, Buddy!?” Even before I finished, I remembered, Oh, yea, you’re lookin’ at the car.

What I realize is that what people think about the car tells me a lot more about THEM than it does about the car. But isn’t that the way it is about everything? Some people like us; some people don’t. Some people smile; some people frown. Each person simply gives a hint about his or her preferences and true nature.

I would do well to remember: “It’s NOT about the car!”

And as much as my ego hates to admit it, it’s probably not about ME either!

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I Overslept!

Posted in Uncategorized, tagged , , , on November 8, 2012| 2 Comments »

Barbie with sun shining on her face

Morning Moments

Oh! I slept too late!

Now, as I write this, the sun is shining very brightly and directly into my eyes. It is moving upward very quickly, though. In fact, already it is shining on my forehead more than in my eyes.

I tilt my head back and close my eyes in order to take in the full sensation: The sun being absorbed through my eyelids and skin, breathed into my lungs, bonded with my blood and circulated throughout the whole of me.

I adore being bathed in this radiance. I feel as though I am becoming shiny new and utterly amazing!

I am in the spotlight! All eyes are on me. What is she going to do???? What is she going to do!?!

Slowly she drinks her coffee and pretends she has nothing better to do.

But I’m not pretending . . . .

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Three years ago . . .

Posted in Uncategorized, tagged , , , , , , , , on October 22, 2012| 4 Comments »

Handwritten entry from journal on 10-22-09

These past three years have gone by quickly. Sometimes I still go into Mom’s old room to share a bit of news. “Hey, Mama, guess who just called to say hi?” Of course, I don’t expect a response. The room has been quiet for a long time now. The nebulizer and oxygen machine are long gone. The television, too.  But the bed, table, and chairs remain. It was her room for the last four and a half years of her life. I brought her breakfast, lunch, and dinner to that room. I sat with her there and watched bits of TV shows, chatted, and read to her. I painted her toenails, administered her medicine, and checked her blood pressure. Even as I did my best to hold on tightly, I watched her slip away, slowly, slowly, slowly.

This morning I had a conversation with her ashes, as if they were a conduit to the afterlife. I told her how much I miss her and how much I love her. I closed my eyes and remembered what it felt like to be hugged by her. I remembered the way her startlingly blue eyes sparkled every time she smiled at me. I could count on that smile as I set her breakfast tray on the table. “Oh, my!” she would say, “That’s beautiful! But how will I ever eat it all?” But she always did; her appetite was good in the mornings, and so I made sure breakfast was the best meal of the day.

I have honored her last wish to, “just stay close to my little kid,” by creating a special place for her ashes at the cottage. She always called me her angel, but she’s my angel now. My heart hurts  today as I remember the pain of letting her go. I am simultaneously sad and joyful. My life is full, and I am so very grateful for having been raised by a mother like her: optimistic, funny, compassionate, and loving. I am grateful, too, for the opportunity to have been there when she needed me and for the grace to lovingly release her when the time came.

Rest in peace, Mama, and know you will live in my heart forever.

Mom's ashes on a shelf in the cottage

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