the mud

I think that Hydrangeas smell like water. I think that music soothes a weary soul and baths soothe a weary body.  I think that a cup of tea can soothe your heart.  I think that rainy days carry their own mysticism. I think a fireplace is essential. I think lightning on a summer evening is enchanting. I think sunshine can be a bit too much.  I think books carry more knowledge that we know.  I think old pictures bring us memories that curate our lives. I think that a good blanket is like a hug. I think a phone call from an old friend is magical. I think home should be a portrait of our lives. I think men are complicated. I think women are amazing. I think children are miracles.  I think the matriarchy is a great idea. I think the files should be fully released.  I think the perpetrators should be fully prosecuted.  I think the time has come. 

I am a teacher. I am a practical person. I pack my lunch each day. I drive a little too far to work each day. I wear sensible shoes. I look really carefully when crossing the street, walking or driving. I understand some of the pitfalls of life. I try to avoid them. I don't use my phone while driving, well maybe a little. I try to get enough sleep. I try not to drink too much. I eat healthy. But sometimes, you just can't help what happens. A few days ago, I was walking into school. I saw my favorite teacher coming out the front door. We always say the same thing each morning, "Buenos dias!" Except this morning, I could only say, "Buen..." My first thought was, why can't I finish this phrase? I almost thought I was having a stroke! Then I suddenly knew - I was falling. I tried to save my coffee, my hands, and then the next thing I knew I was down on the ground and my coffee was running downhill and was going to get me all wet. I had to get up. So I did. A...

 A few weeks ago the heat at school broke down. We scrambled to move our classrooms into another building on campus. I loaded my little easel cart with its plentiful buckets and charts and shelves and proceeded to roll it up the hill - a relatively small hill, but a hill nonetheless. A 4th grade student offered to help me. We made it about 25 feet before hitting the first bump. We successfully maneuvered the wheels through the cracks and crevices another 10 feet before losing a wheel. We shifted positions and hoisted the cart up another 10 feet, with about 25 to go. Nope, another wheel was lost. At that point the 4th grader stopped and said, "Mrs. Miles, I think we need to call for backup." He was so sincere and so serious, but I just laughed, a real hearty laugh. I knew that all the teachers and administrators and maintenance were working like crazy to get everyone moved up this literal mountain before all the kids arrived in about 3 minutes. I feel bad about my response. ...

Well? I don't know if I am well. I am trying, that's for sure. I hope you are well, or surviving. What can we do? I do not know. So I take baby steps. Today we had a postcard writing campaign  (find the postcards here) at our town library. I had asked a friend on Wednesday what she thought and we rallied and about 20 people showed up. We wrote over 275 postcards. We mailed them. I don't know what I expected but it was good. Good enough. We are trying to make our voices heard above the noise and chaos. We are trying to make change. This is the only way I know. Someone who attended our little workshop asked, "How do we make it through this? Any tips?" I never answered her as we all shared and swayed between thoughts and confusion, answers and questions. As we talked, I started misspelling words because it is just too much sometimes. But now I'd like to answer her question.  I am reminded of two things that help me when the way is not clear. One is a message from...

 I love this time of year, the After time. Don't get me wrong. I love the holidays too. Having the kids home for weeks and sharing their daily lives again is awesome. I love the decor and the celebrations and the food and even all the preparation in the kitchen and in the stores, collecting and gathering and creating. It's wonderful - the most wonderful time of the year. But what I really appreciate is this After time of year, the time after the grandiose holidays and the days before the spring air begins to breeze in. Winter - the Heart of Winter. The cold wind blows. The sun is low. The days are short. I don't even mind the darkness, it's a good excuse to go to bed early and wrap myself in books and tea and a heating pad. (I can't help it - I'm not young anymore.) And what calls to us is extra layers. Extra blankets on the bed. Extra sweaters and woolen mittens. Thick socks and furry slippers. A cozy wrap, a long scarf. Oatmeal in the morning. A bowl of hot so...

 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 clo...

 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...

  Dear College Kid and Post-Grads,  Welcome Home! You are finally here! And we are so happy to welcome you. It's been a long semester. You've faced trials and tribulations. You still need to meet your own benchmarks and others you've exceeded. But it's over now. For now, you must rest. For now, you are released from your duties and obligations for studying and group projects. You don't have to worry about homework and practice and when to wake up and when to eat. You are home. You can sleep until noon. We are here to love you back to health and wellness and give you that unmistakable feeling of home.  Some things haven't changed here at home. There will be bacon and eggs for breakfast and we will get cream donuts from McMillan's tomorrow. We will have bagels and cream cheese one morning. Some things are new to us. We will order the meat lover's pizza. We will make room on the shelf for your protein powder. Some things have changed. We painted the front d...

 I've been in college far too long. I've failed terribly and I've thrived epically too. But after a while, you should just be done. Like Sam Hartman. My family knows that I'm not a big fan. If you are 24 playing against kids who are on average 19 and 20, maybe it's time to move on. I mean I know it's tempting, but really, maybe you need to play against people your own age? Sorry, Sam.  I'm not done for those reasons and I don't mean that I'm a student either. I'm a mom of college-age kids. For the past 6 years, since 2017, I have had one or more kids in college. And those are where I've had my toughest losses and my greatest gains. It hasn't been easy. Some days I'm on my A-game. Some days I'm on the DL - the disabled list, or the down low. I shouldn't be in the game, but they still play me. I don't have any good answers and I forget to turn off my teacher voice. It's different having kids in college than when I actual...

No one hangs on my leg any more as I leave the house. Only the dog. No one wants to know where I'm going and when I'll be back. Only the dog. No one responds to my texts about shopping when I ask what everyone wants. No one runs to greet me when I return home. Only the dog. No one gets underfoot to carry the groceries in and help unload. Only the dog. Everyone comes when I start cooking dinner and wants to know what that smell is. Even the dog. 

Every day in August is a Sunday... maybe you've heard this before, probably from a teacher. Every day in June is like a Friday, every day in July is like a Saturday, and every day in August is like a Sunday. All that anticipation of BTS. My nieces have a rule not to use the "S" word. You know, the one that starts with s,c,h. Shh - don't say it. That time of year when everything ramps up - kids, paperwork, forms, shopping, planning, packing, scheduling, and trying so hard to fit in one more moment of summer and to APPRECIATE it before it's all gone. I don't have any advice. I don't know how to relish the days or to make them last longer. I don't know how to slow things down. I think trying to just makes it worse. I've tried countdowns and picturing today as the last day of summer and none of it works. I asked a teacher friend how many days he had left before returning to school and he said, "Oh, I don't count." So I'm trying that. ...

 One of the great joys of parenthood is when your child comes home. It doesn't really matter where they have been, just that they are home. Sometimes it can be from school and you were worried when you sent them out the door, about their friends, their tests, their work. Sometimes it can be from an outing and you were hopeful things would go as planned or as they imagined. Sometimes it is from their first job and they walk through the door exasperated and exhausted and you can cook them something and they feel better. Sometimes it can be from college and you are so grateful to see them again and hold them in your arms. And sometimes it can be from very far away after a very long time and they are transformed from when they left you. And you have to pause and say, Oh my goodness. Who is this? Where have you been? How are you? How are we now that you have this new story to tell?  This week Matt got home from Alaska, after 40 days working as a fishing quality control monitor on a...

  I have a recurring dream where we live in a house and we suddenly realize there is another whole room that we didn't know was there. It's usually cute and just needs a little touch up. They say these dreams occur when we learn something new, or have a new awakening. Well, this is about an awakening of sorts.  I am sitting here, in my back porch, which is enclosed in screens and windows and a little door outside, which is why I say in. And as I sit here, I've been working all day. And as I've been working, I've been literally lamenting the fact that I don't have a desk or a better place to sit, or a place to store things, or a place to do more. I am sitting on the couch with an old TV table from the attic in front of me and a little pencil holder and papers spread all around me. I lean forward to type and it's annoying. The cushions from the outside furniture are piled next to the windows and they are annoying too, haphazardly thrown about and piled. And I...

A crew mom from Charlie’s high school asked me for pictures from last year's end-of-year celebrations so that she can replicate some of the traditions we had. I was anxious to check through these emails so I could cross things off my growing list. But as I scrolled through old pictures, I got caught in a net of memories, people and places and smiles I’ll never forget, of Charlie’s days of high school rowing, which weren’t that long ago. Looking at his bright face through rowing, and prom and graduation, his seventh-grade awards ceremony, his third-grade class trip, then suddenly sitting in his college sweatshirt, not knowing yet what the future holds. How can this be? How can this moment have gotten here so fast? It still seems impossible to think that he is off to college. I just can’t help but see him as the little kid I relentlessly hugged without thinking, the little guy who ran around the yard chasing his older brothers and sister, the youngest and the easiest in so many ways....

 When my kids were small, I would watch things happen and think, "Thank God there is a guardian angel watching over them." They would just miss the corner of the table as they fell off the couch. The glass would fall just inches from their face. The baseball would just miss their head as they went for a catch. Once I came home to see police cars, ambulances, and fire trucks in front of our house. A woman had driven her car up on our front lawn and had just missed where the kids had been playing with my husband a few moments before. Guardian Angels. Then there were times when it wasn't a miss, but a hit: the broken bones, the cuts, and scrapes, the poison ivy that sent us to the emergency room. (Yes, it was that bad.) But there were angels in the ER too.  I thought that guardian angels were part of everyone's childhood. We used to say a prayer in elementary school, "Guardian Angel, my guardian dear, to whom God's love commits me here, ever this day be at my si...

 No these are not the words from my kids to me, they are from me to you: Moms out there who are doing it. Love you Moms, who show up Love you Moms, who do the toughest work behind the scenes. Love you Moms, who put a smile on when all you want to do is cry, or at least nap. Love you Moms, who offer a welcome to the newcomer, and a banana to the kids. Love you Moms, who show vulnerability and bravery. Love you Moms, who cut through the small talk and get to the good stuff. Love you Moms, who share the hard parts. Love you Moms, who share the recipes and the gardening tips. Love you Moms, who listen too. Love you Moms, who know what it is to pray, all day and all night some times.  Love you Moms, who are carrying the loaded bags of goodies for our boys, my boy too. Love you Moms, who are carrying heavy burdens. Love you Moms, who lightening each other's loads. You are amazing. You are beautiful. You are powerful. You are holding it all together and yet starting to breathe. You a...

I missed writing yesterday, Good Friday. I was preoccupied with getting my house cleaned, a Good Friday tradition in my home growing up. My mother called it a "Big Sweep" and the idea was that you had to clean everything, even under your bed. I don't recall that there was much of anything under my bed, but I guess we had to vacuum there too.  Anyway, as I was cleaning I thoughtfully looked at the Blessed Mother statue on my dresser. I have had it since my grandmother gave it to me either for my first communion or confirmation, I'm not sure which. Either way, it was about 45 years ago! She is a staple there and some days go by when I don't pay much attention to her. She has traveled with me through life and has also collected the wear and tear of accumulated dust, stains, and brokenness.                  Because I wasn't always so careful, her halo is broken. Not just once, but three times. She has markings of coffee spilled on ...