the mud

 My husband accuses me of bundling. Like everything. I won't go down the basement until I have collected a pile of everything that could possibly need to go down. So I'll bring the laundry down to the kitchen and then I'll start bundling. The old front door wreath goes on top of the laundry, The drill I used in the garden yesterday - on top. The Fourth of July banner on top of that. I can amass quite a pile. The same goes when I'm out doing errands. I have a doctor's appointment in Mt. Laurel? Hmm. I can stop at the Home Sense store, the big Dollar Tree, the Produce Junction, the Michaels, and the Container Store. All on my way home! I like bundling. Not just because it saves trips, which equates to gas, but it also saves my energy. If I separated those trips it would be hours or even days of travel. I don't have time for that. When I can I want to tie everything together and wrap it up. With a pretty bow.  Bundling was an act of desperation back when the kids w

This morning I am creating a nest. I am building it from scratch with spare parts that have been left around from another owner. We are vacationing in a house on a lake near Grandfathers, since that currently has no running water. We love it up here. It is a place that is carved in our hearts and our stories.  Since this is a foreign house, I am trying to make it feel like home. We have been here for 2 days and now I see the needs and small fixes I can do to make things more ‘ours’.  I have brewed coffee and put away the dishes from last night. I have placed a small rug by the door to catch our shoes that are caked in pine needles and fallen beech leaves and sand from the beach. I have moved the ottoman away from the chair it belongs to so that we have an extra seat. We have more people than it sits. Charlie made a chair with two pillows and leaned them against the end table. We are all working to build the nest. I am using pillows and blankets which I found in an upstairs closet to ma

 What is grief? It is standing in the shower and  you are suddenly crying and then you are sobbing. And you barely thought about it in the two days since you heard  your Uncle Rich passed. You thought about your dad and your cousins and your aunt and how sad they must be and you checked in on your dad. "I'm so so sorry." And you went to work and you did what you had to do. And now you are ready for another day and you are thinking of all the things and then you are crying and you are little again and vulnerable  and your heart hurts. And you remember everyone. Medford Lakes and a swimming pool and laughing so hard  and dancing around a Christmas tree and fireworks by the lake at night. And you can see his face and all their faces smiling Aunts and uncles and cousins and brothers who aren't here. And you remember his voice, deep and laughing, and you remember his kindness and his advice. "Are you taking vitamin C, Joannie?" You see all their faces and you mis