Lessons I’m Learning Lately
Plus, a poem
Even before the election, I had this impending sense of dread. I’m realizing that I am in fact NOT a person who loves fall (or winter). A good friend recently said: “fall feels like the fun is over” and I agree. The cool weather and changing leaves are beautiful, but they signal a recoil; a going inward, a death. Change is in the wind and I’m not looking forward to being cooped up all winter with a toddler and an infant.
But spring will come again. It always does.
I’m learning a lot of lessons from my toddler lately. With the time change, she has noticed that it gets dark sooner. “It’s getting dark!” She says. “Uh oh .. where’s the sun?” And I have to remind her - and myself - that the sun will come out tomorrow.
I loved this piece from
about intentionally CHOOSING hope during these strange times.We have to believe in better days. We have to actively seek out the good and choose to see the humanity in everyone. Because the other option is too grim. If you look for hate and division, that’s all you will see. And with that outlook, you might even start to become the thing that you fear (and detest) the most.
Mother nature teaches us that the sun will always shine again, and spring will arrive even after the coldest, darkest winters, bringing new life with her.
The day after the election, Margo chose dancing as her bedtime delay tactic. When I tried to turn off the light an nudge us toward the bedtime routine, she looked at me - her hazel eyes earnest - and said:
“Mama, I need to dance.”
I sat down in the rocking chair, gathering her nighttime books and tried to redirect. Then she shouted:
“NO! DANCE!”
And she grabbed my hand, tugging me up.
She knows.
Her little body knows.
We have to keep moving. We have to keep dancing. Even when the air feels stale; when the chips are down and hope is lost- perhaps especially then. We have to dance, to remind ourselves that we still can.
It’s been a while since I’ve written anything substantial and I don’t feel great about that. I had a couple more pieces published on Business Insider (THIS ONE most recently, which I’m very proud of and it feels important for this moment!) but since then, I’ve been pitching ideas and haven’t gotten any bites.
I’ve noticed, though, that the Osprey who dive in the inlet near my house for fish often come up empty-handed. But they don’t quit. They keep diving over and over, improving their tact until they eventually triumph. I admire their patience and tenacity and I’m trying to build my own.
Now more than ever, I feel a sense of urgency to use my voice – to speak out for my daughters’ sake. So I’ll keep writing, even if it feels like I’m shouting into the void. And if you’re reading this, THANK YOU!
Last but not least, here’s a little poem I wrote after spending some treasured quality time at the beach with my eldest:
I’ll Keep Building Sand Castles With You
Even if none of it matters
and the waves will wash it all away
so that no one knows we were here
I’ll still keep building castles with you, my dear
I’ll keep trying to get it right,
filling up tiny buckets
with perfectly damp sand
smoothing the bumps with my hand
Watching your fingers
as they mimic mine
knowing that one day soon
you’ll play by your own rules
But for now, here you sit
right by my side
and we create something together
I’ve never been better
It won’t last forever
It it won’t even weather the incoming tide
but I’ll always remember
this day in November
Just a sand castle, you think
but it’s so much more
it reminds me of all that I have
to live for