Tuesday, October 19, 2021

Home Work

These past few months, we've been living in a rather sad version of If You Give a Mouse a Cookie, with one simple home improvement idea (hey, honey, let's get our wood floors refinished!) leading to - unearthing, really - a host of other issues. Isn't this always true of houses? Of teaching? Of any work? One sweet idea and the next thing you know, you are immersed in something tangential, then something else, and else again, on and on.

I've been surprised at how sad I am about the discovery that we have major repairs to make to the existing structure of our home. Yes, truly sad. Quite unexpectedly. 

Here's how I know: when the contractor shared impressive, clear, careful details of the work we must do, I burst into tears as soon as he left our house.

A good friend suggested that I am perhaps feeling a sense of grief, a sense of loss. The more I think about it, I think she is right.

We have an older home (1938). I like to say - "old enough to have problems, not old enough to be anything extraordinary." But, we have loved this home. It's been my home throughout our marriage (my husband bought it before we married) - some 33 years now. It's full of our fixes, our repairs, our "make do's." As one little example, let me share a photo of the kitchen "backsplash" that I painted 25 years ago, because we couldn't afford tile: 



I have been so content with this painted backsplash through the years! Ha! It makes me smile.

Our remodeling will begin any day now (we are waiting on blueprints...). I feel like a young child on the verge of a tantrum when I say: I really don't want to think about the innumerable details of this new work! 

But it is work that must be done. 

These structural repairs mean that a lot of the little, personal touches we labored on through the years will vanish. (Yes, the backsplash, too. I know - the time is past due. I hear you.)  This is why I am feeling such a sense of grief - it feels as if we're tossing aside memories, erasing our life.

Breathe in, breathe out.

I am making peace with the reality that the timeline will be long, inconsistent, unpredictable - as is true with most remodeling projects, but especially during this time of pandemic when every contractor is in hot demand and working on several things at once.

Breathe in, breathe out.

I remind myself, it's a good life, right? We are so blessed. Change is always, change is constant, change is needed.  

Of all the unforeseen and unfortunate problems in the world, this is a good problem to have. Quit my bellyaching!

Breathe in, breathe out.

Realizing I am feeling grief, I decided to work my way out of my blues. Action is needed! We "popcorned" ideas about things that need to be done around the house that are NOT this structural issue, that do not require a professional, that we can do ourselves. We came up with quite a list, big and small things. (Think - painting projects, culling belongings/extras, donating furniture and other items we no longer need.) Now, we are chipping away at these - and it feels WONDERFUL. Seriously. It helps to be accomplishing something.

This past week, we repainted four radiators (before the onset of cold weather). Here's a 'before and after':

BEFORE



AFTER - 
(Yes, there is a goof of paint on the tile above the right corner. 
Thank goodness for "Goof Off"!)



It also helps to write poetry - ha! Just yesterday, EthicalELA offered the inspiration to write an "Abecedarian" poem. I thought about our house and its overwhelming but necessary repairs, and an A-Z poem just flowed out of me. I love it when writing just tumbles forth, as if a release valve has been opened. Yes, it was truly a release. 

I guess the truth of it is, remodeling doesn't soothe my soul...I'd rather be writing.


Falling Apart Alphabetically


Absolutely excited to 

begin home improvements, the

contractor was summoned to

develop a plan of action.

Emotionally unprepared I was

for his first question,

Goodness, why is your ceiling sagging?

How is it that we never noticed?

I have asked this many times since.

Jarringly, it is all we see now.

Knowledge is sight, I suppose.

Lamentations aside, we have

mustered courage (though

nerves and tears still rule on many days) and we’re

opening ceilings

paying for blueprints

querying engineers contractors designers websites friends 

rapidly learning about beams and 

structures and foundations.

Things fall apart. Yes, indeed.

Unexpected challenges and loss, it is said, may also reap

very real opportunities, silver linings, transformation -

wisdom I should print on index cards or

xerox and post everywhere, reminding, as we

yearn for this work to be done, it simply

zigs and zags, ebbs and flows, starts and stalls.



___________________





It's Tuesday and I am participating in the
 Slice of Life.  
Thank you, Two Writing Teachers, for nurturing teacher-writers!





Tuesday, October 12, 2021

On Gratitude and Learning



One recent day
I sang Five Green Speckled Frogs 
over and over again
while crouched in front of the toilet
where my young granddaughter was perched
hoping
trying
believing 
she would pee

yes
I sang Five Green Speckled Frogs 
with hand motions as well
many times in a row
at her insistence 
and perhaps a bit of mine
as I tried to lighten and normalize 
this new learning

while in a nearby room
I heard her young sister crawling about
knocking things over
chattering and cooing

and was immediately thankful 
for the other caregiver in the house
dear Poppa will tend to the littlest one 
I need not worry about her

just keep on singing

and thinking
isn't it extraordinary
a miracle 
such a luxury
to be proficient at
using the bathroom

somewhere along the way
I started taking it for granted

why not feel 
the magic and wonder 
each day 

celebrate
the sheer amazing learning
the accomplishment
the good skill
of so many of us

despite so many obstacles

yes
again and again we are reminded
this is such a divisive time
with passionate zealous strident adults 
believing so many different truths
often in direct opposition to one another

yet
where is 
grace and delight
about what we have in common

we are toilet-trained


___________________





It's Tuesday and I am participating in the
 Slice of Life.  
Thank you, Two Writing Teachers, for nurturing teacher-writers!



___________________

P.S. Just in case you need the words to Five Little Speckled Frogs - hahaha

Five little speckled frogs
Sitting on a speckled log
Eating some most delicious bugs - yum! yum!
One jumps into the pool
Where it is nice and cool
Now there are four green speckled frogs...

[Repeat lyrics with descending number of frogs - four, three, two, one, until you have no green speckled frogs...]


Tuesday, October 5, 2021

Tuesday flowers

 



Today's bouquet


A few weeks back, my granddaughter Frog, who turns three years old later this month, found a small bud vase at my house. My youngest son (Frog's uncle) made it years ago in a college ceramics class, and over time it had made its way to the 'land of forgotten,' way in the back of a kitchen cabinet. I suggested we find flowers to put in it by walking around the yard and seeing what was in bloom. She thought this sounded like fun - I mean, it did involve the outdoors, a breakable vase, and a pair of scissors, what's not to like as a youngster? 

I am once again reminded: there's nothing like a preschooler to transform something from a "once and done" into a regular routine. This simple activity has become our latest ritual on our babysitting days - we walk around the yard together, investigating and discovering, cutting a few blooms as we go, usually just a single blossom from each plant. Frog is learning the names of every plant, and notices the different colors and textures. It can take many minutes to fill this little vase, when the work is greeted with such concentration and respect. This time of year, flowers are going to seed, yet a few blossoms in a tiny vase and there is beauty. Frog helps me see the extraordinary in what is, truly, a very ordinary yard.

After she fills the vase with water, she sets it at the center of the breakfast bar, where it smiles and shines throughout our meals together. 

Such a time of simple delights! 


___________________





It's Tuesday and I am participating in the
 Slice of Life.  
Thank you, Two Writing Teachers, for nurturing teacher-writers!





Tuesday, September 28, 2021

Outcroppings


There's this point near the end of most hikes where I really need a helicopter to appear, dropping a rope ladder directly into my hands, and instantaneously whisking me back to my car, without another moment of delay. I need to be OFF the trail, softly seated, feet up, with a refreshing cold drink in hand. Tony likes to say "the first immutable law of hiking is that for every downhill there is an uphill twice as long," but I claim there is at least one other enduring law - the hike will move instantaneously, without any foreshadowing, from feeling "perfect" (oh my, this is beautiful! oh my, what a great day to hike! oh my, I am having so much fun!) to pluperfect (as describe in Oxford Languages, "an action - in this case, hiking - completed prior to some past point of time specified or implied"). My gas simply runs out. The hike is over, past tense, completed, before it actually ends.


Perhaps it is this act of hiking while exhausted, past the point of comfort, having to dig deep into some invisible reserves, that adds to the feeling of accomplishment?



We recently hiked Sugarloaf Mountain, a small but beautiful, local mountain. The day was absolutely gorgeous, with cool fall temperatures, bright sunshine, lovely breezes - a day meant for hiking, and we really did enjoy the outing, despite my concluding sensations of needing it all to be over. In the end, we had hiked some eight miles, though the original plan had called for three or four - thus my fantasy of a helicopter arriving. 

Long before exhaustion hit, I enjoyed enjoyed enjoyed. I love how hiking requires your full attention, that you be alert to where you place your foot - is it root? rock? shifting sand? The terrain is constantly changing, always varied. My favorite patches involve hearing the echoing thunk of each footstep on the ground, as if I am all alone in the world (and oh so capable). I love the natural surrounds, and find myself absorbing all these minute details - the way trees bend, a sudden burst of orange or red, the shape of rocks. Perhaps most of all, I love how my mind wanders, thinking of so many different and unexpected things. 

Who lives here?
Wild mushrooms




Some parts of this hike were tricky - climbing over loose and shifting rocks, trying to wedge my foot in a tight crevice, bending and lifting myself up and over ridges. At times, it seemed my hips and knees were going in different directions, certainly separate directions from my mind. Always, always, always, just when I needed it most, there was a perfect rock waiting for me - wide, flat, steady, strong, beckoning, allowing me to rest, catch my breath, regain my footing. We had a refreshing snack while sitting on a beautiful outcropping, and felt energized for the rest of the hike. 

I've been blessed with friends like this through the years, friends who popped into my life by surprise just when I needed them,  rock steady and strong, letting me catch my breath, giving me much-needed perspective. These friends were often temporary, "passers-by," appearing at different phases of life and not necessarily in for the long journey - I'm thinking of former colleagues, dorm-mates,  "I'm a new Mom, too," and "oh, your child's at this school, too?" - you know, friends of a time. 

Yet, still very, very dear in my heart. 

I found myself remembering each of them on this last hike - their wisdom and insight, their reassuring ways. 

This, truly, is a gift of hiking - the memories tapped and released, to savor once more.


Tony & I at the summit

___________________





It's Tuesday and I am participating in the
 Slice of Life.  
Thank you, Two Writing Teachers, for nurturing teacher-writers!


Tuesday, July 20, 2021

The sundress

I rarely wear dresses. They are for special occasions only. These days of retirement and pandemic, hanging around the house day in and day out - ha! Dresses have been absolutely nonexistent in my life. Yesterday, on yet another quiet, happy day at home with my husband, I decided to wear a sundress. Who knows why? Some combination of summer weather and being tired of wearing the same clothes. I wish you could have seen my husband's look of surprise! So funny. He had forgotten I even owned the dress - I had not worn it in over three years. In fact, I'd only ever worn it once...

...which sent us down memory lane, and I landed in this free verse poem:





yesterday, I wore my sundress, 
this lovely sundress
bought three years ago 
our 30th anniversary trip 
to Costa Rica

yes, I wore it 
on this marvelous day 
of adventure
where we walked 
and walked 
and walked 

yes, I wore it
to find the bus stop 
near our cottage
down, down, down this long hill
past the simple homes 
of metal and wood 
so much green
so many flowers
gorgeous hills in the distance


yes, I wore it 
on the hot bus, 
sticky and full 
with so many beautiful locals 
a sense of their lives
their dailyness
their kindness
their joy

yes, I wore it 
to the town of Sarchi
where bright and beautiful 
wood oxcarts are made 
where we stood in the park 
eating yummy greasy 
chicken and yucca fries 
where we wandered 
the small shops and vendors 
searching for 
who knows what 
to treasure
where we heard the solitary guitar 
where we felt 
the beautiful breezes and 
the gentle sunshine



yes, I wore it 
back to Grecia, 
where we got lost 
searching for a bus 
to take us back up that hill
where locals at the gas station 
saw the confusion in our eyes
offered just enough 
sweet caring English
to insist on driving us 
to the bus station
so we jumped in their car 
our hearts full of trust

yes, I wore it 
as we drove
squished in 
beside two unknown others
seatbeltless
in the backseat 
of a tiny old car
quickly quickly quickly 
across town
where we hugged goodbye
our dear old friends  
of five minutes

yes, I wore it 
as we ran 
jumped onto the departing bus
back up the long long long hill
where this time we knew
there was a closer stop 
an easier walk 
to our cottage


yes, I wore it 
returning to our home 
away from home
knowing so much more 
love and beauty
yesterday, I wore my sundress
and went back in time



___________________





It's Tuesday and I am participating in the
Thank you, Two Writing Teachers, for nurturing teacher-writers!

Tuesday, July 6, 2021

The alarm

The sound is stark, pulsating through my dreams and the surrounding darkness, blasting me into alertness - it was only 6 a.m., we're in a hotel room in the Smoky Mountains for a few days of hiking, and I am sorely confused. Why in the heck is a bedside alarm going off? I squinted and felt around in the dark for the alarm's off switch, and I'm now wide-awake. It's impossible to go back to sleep.

I suppose the previous hotel room guest accidentally set that alarm for us . . . not the kind of surprise one really desires on vacation, in my opinion. 

Though, it gave us an early start on our fun. We had a full first day in the mountains, enjoying a strenuous hike along waterfalls and taking in so many beautiful overlooks. We saw a bear! We saw elk! Yes, we are enjoying ourselves with a few days in delightful nature of Tennessee, followed by visits with family in Georgia. 

"By the way - wasn't that the worst, that early morning alarm?!" we complained, as we settled into bed that night. I double-checked that the alarm was off. Very quickly, we were both sound asleep.

Early the next morning, once again, I am awake much too early, struggling awake, surprised awake - this time, hearing some sort of muttering? a man's voice? complaining? drunk? angry? oh yes ANGRY! There's banging on the door, relentless banging. Wait, where am I? What time is it? I look at the clock 5:58am. This time, a human alarm. I'm sorely confused, but someone's words break through, someone in the hall - 

OPEN UP THE DOOR NOW! 

I hear the static of a walkie-talkie or radio or something, and rushing of footsteps in the hall. 

I jump up and run to the door and look out the peep hole, and see two Sheriff's deputies running past my hotel room door to a room diagonally across the hall. One stops directly in front of our room, I can read the letters emblazoned on his back - S H E R I F F. I freeze in place. Moments later, two pajama-clad guests run past my door, away from the police presence. The deputy at my door points for them to go down the hall. Who are they? Moved from a neighboring room? Evacuated? Family members? What's going on?

A sheriff's deputy bellows:

WE'D LIKE TO RESOLVE THIS PEACEFULLY!

OPEN UP THIS DOOR!

I jump back in bed with Tony. What should we do? Do we need to hide? What in the world? We wait in suspense.

What follows are some very short, intense negotiations with whomever has drawn their attention; I hear a man say "Leave me alone, I'm not doing anything. I just want to be alone." 

Sheriff's deputy - "Open up the door and let us talk to you, and then that can be. We need to see you." 

In just a few agonizing minutes, it is resolved peacefully - I hear the nearby door unlock; the man opens up the door.  He talks a bit with the deputies. He is not detained or arrested. I hear movement in the hall again, take one more peek through the peep hole, and see some six deputies walk past my room, calmly exiting the hotel. "At least we didn't have to chase someone in their underwear in the woods," one comments.

Yes, once again, we've been woken up in the early morning; this time, we're both shaken by what could have transpired and thankfully did not. What a horrible way to wake up, and really scary. 

Who knows what that disturbance was even about? 

I am reminded how hard this world is for so many, how troubled some lives are.

That early morning alarm of the day before, 
that nuisance that I thought was THE WORST - 
ha, no big deal in retrospect. 

Life is precious. Be well, everyone!


Let me close with some natural beauty from the Smoky Mountains!








___________________





It's Tuesday and I am participating in the
Thank you, Two Writing Teachers, for nurturing teacher-writers!


Tuesday, June 22, 2021

Let's face it

 

"Wait, you ate dinner there? They don't have any outdoor seating. You ate INSIDE? How did you do that?" I asked.
My friend laughed. "Yes, we ate indoors. We're vaccinated! We BELIEVE in the vaccine. It was lovely."

Oh. Wow. 
I believe in the vaccine, too. 
Yes, I, too, have been vaccinated. 

However, I am surprisingly ill-at-ease about our world opening up, this ability to leave our homes and be out and about. I am moving slowly and with trepidation towards all these new "normal" opportunities that await. Honestly, I surprise myself with my fear, my anxiety. I joked with my friend that I feel like a cicada, emerging slowly, not entirely understanding where I am now, and then moving confusingly through the world, bumping as I go. I'm edgy, restlessly edgy. Overly sensitive. Maybe I shouldn't use the word "overly" with sensitive - ha! - I need to be sensitive about that. 

Why does eating indoors in a restaurant make me so nervous? What is my deal? 

It's as if I have been on a very strict diet, and then I am invited to a smorgasbord of all my favorite rich and heavy foods - it looks delicious, but it doesn't feel good to partake. Too much too fast. 

I want it, I want it, I want it, but it leaves me a little shaky and uncomfortable.

I have long known I am an introvert; I have never known myself to be this ill-at-ease.

I think it is going to just take time - right? Just a little out of step, I am.

This past Sunday, Father's Day, the kids and grandkids feted my husband with a big yummy breakfast; by 1 pm, everyone was gone, and we had this quiet day remaining - a very typical pandemic day, a day in isolation, just the two of us. 

What should we do for dinner on this special day, just the two of us?

That evening, we took the plunge. 

Just like we always used to do, we walked to our favorite little restaurant in downtown Silver Spring, a cozy little Indian-Nepali place. 

Just like we always used to do, we went INSIDE. Yes, I faced my vague, invisible, stunting fears. 

Just like we always used to do, we had a delightful time. Funny thing, I'm not the only one with these fears - we were the only customers eating inside the restaurant (though there was lots of takeout business, which is how the restaurant survived these pandemic months). This quiet and familiar restaurant was just the environment I needed - and it came with an extra-special bonus of good conversation with the owners, sharing stories about this strange time we are all living through. 

Slowly but surely, I am emerging, we are all emerging.





___________________





It's Tuesday and I am participating in the
Thank you, Two Writing Teachers, for nurturing teacher-writers!

Tuesday, June 8, 2021

Cicada Chorus

[For privacy reasons, I have nicknamed my granddaughters "Frog" (2 1/2 years old) and "Bird" (six months old).]



I was squeezed in close to Frog, in the far corner of the porch, with Bird on my lap, surveying the wild scene in the yard surrounding us. We are in the midst of the 17-year Brood X cicadas here in the Mid-Atlantic, and they are everywhere - flying about, buzzing and bumping.

Truly, they are EVERYWHERE  

  • recklessly diving into you, as you walk,
  • flying into open car windows,
  • wandering up bare legs, 
  • adorning window screens, doors, the sides of houses,
  • latching onto your body, clothes, hair, and hitching a ride,
  • crawling up tree trunks and along branches, to lay eggs,
  • swarming ornamental grasses and other leggy plants, turning them a visual brown,
  • littering the street, sidewalks, front yard with their dead bodies at the end of their oh so brief lives.
Astonishing!

Frog was absolutely fine with the empty, motionless, shells of nymphs that were the first sign of these Brood X cicadas a few weeks back. We found these throughout the yard, and even collected a few in a container. However, these noisy new adult cicadas have her feeling very cautious. At nearly two inches in length and seeming to possess no awareness of where their bodies are in space, one never knows when and where they will surprise you. We decided to watch them from a safe distance on the porch, while Bird drank a bottle. 

At one point, Frog's attention waned and she got up to look at something on the other side of the porch. Right away, I saw a cicada crawling nearby (seriously - these insects are EVERYWHERE) and I called out calmly, "Don't be too surprised, but there is another cicada right near your foot." Frog looked down at it, eyes wide, and then she hopped/danced/jumped back to the safety of our nook on the porch chair. We giggled together, at her delightful dance. This 'cicada shuffle' is becoming very familiar to all of us.

I seem to learn something new about these insects every single day. My latest learning: a two-headed cicada, right in the middle of the road, as I went out for my walk. 

I trudged by it, 
found myself still thinking about it, 
turned around, 
walked back, and 
stood over it, 
absolutely captivated. 

Four eyes, two on each end, looking back at me. 

How in the world did it get two heads? 

Nature is so fascinating. I mean, of course, with this many cicadas, there are bound to be some that arrive looking a little different, yes?  

Then, the one cicada with two heads separated into two cicadas and flew off in two directions. Ah, they were mating! 

I laughed at my ignorance, yelled "Get a room!," and continued my walk. Imagine, so determined to go forth and multiply, you choose to mate in the middle of the street in the middle of the day! My goodness.

The cicadas are at their peak and the noise is deafening. It's as if someone is standing right next to my head with a rainstick, shaking it up and down, over and over. Have you heard/seen this musical instrument? I had a rainstick in my preschool classroom, and it was a very effective tool to get the children's attention. It was a long, cylindrical, wooden tube filled with small particles - rice, maybe? very small pebbles? 

Tip the tube one way, 
all the noisy little pieces travel down to that end, 
clamoring, clacking, clapping 
the sides of the tube. 

Tip the tube back the other way, 
send the pieces 
scattering, skittering, scraping 
the other direction.

Cicadas.

Yes, their chorus is identical to a rainstick, except, I am unable to put the rainstick away, so that all is quiet.

These weeks are not quiet. 

These weeks are deafening. 

Yes, my ears repeat, reverberate, resound with cicada cries.


I took a short video of the cicadas this week in my front yard ash tree, which is "cicada central" right now:




Look closely, you will see hundreds of cicadas moving up and down the branches, and flying about. Truly, their sound is SO LOUD. It is near impossible to have conversations outside, nor is it comfortable to have these little harmless goofs come flying into you, over and over, while you dare to be outside. There is so much commotion, I am unable to think straight. 

Yet, it is wildly captivating. I can't get enough of these little and rare beings. They are strangely riveting! 








___________________





It's Tuesday and I am participating in the
 Slice of Life.  
Thank you, Two Writing Teachers, for nurturing teacher-writers!

Friday, April 30, 2021

#verselove - nonet of farewell

For the month of April, I am participating in 30 days of #verselove poetry writing with Dr. Sarah J. Donovan's Ethical ELA

Today's inspiration was by three teachers, Christine, Jairus, and Josie, who conclude this fabulous month of poetry writing with a prompt to think about what scares us - to try to put it into words. A wonderful last prompt to this month!

Here's my poetry submission - and a final thank you to Dr. Sarah Donovan and the whole #verselove community:

Dear #verselove community - I have truly loved reading your poetry and writing alongside you this month. I have learned so much from you. I have enjoyed the daily prompts, which stretched me in all sorts of new ways. I am sad to see April end - though I have taken so many notes on poetry forms, terminology, writers, activists, and important voices I need to know more about, perhaps I can be self-propelled in my writing for awhile (at  least until the next OpenWrite! ha!).

Dr. Sarah J. Donovan - what a gift you have given to all of us, what a treasure you have created! It is beautiful to imagine how many more poems there are in the world. Thank you so very much.

Missing all of you, already. Here's a nonet of farewell



it is terrifying to share poems 
fearing my lack of skill and voice
how to brace myself for scorn?
dry dull blah meh so-so
yes, forgettable
that’s my writing
on the whole
believe
me

then
#verselove
welcomed me
to share aloud
to think with others
to reflect on questions 
to write in community
a challenge wrapped in warm embrace
thank you for this restorative month!



Thursday, April 29, 2021

#verselove - 29: earth-keepers

For the month of April, I am participating in 30 days of #verselove poetry writing with Dr. Sarah J. Donovan's Ethical ELA

Today's poetry inspiration was by Susie Morice, who shared many beautiful quotes and resources on the environment, and encouraged us to write a poem about one or more 'earth-keepers.' I kept thinking about my granddaughter, how much she loves to be outdoors - and how much instinctive respect and care she shows. Throughout my years of teaching, I witnessed preschoolers nurturing this same natural, uninhibited affection for our great world. Here's my poem.


children are earth-keepers


at what age
do we let go
the commonsense
a child holds?

a child’s instinct is 
to dig and discover
worm in the rich dark deep
pill bug hiding under stone
how there is much more below
to wonder

a child knows 
earth is their home
watching birds circle above the tree
hearing hills beckon for a roll 
how the lick of a goat is
to enjoy 

a child studies
the new and the different
rainwater flowing across the yard
a fallen tree ripe with life 
how blooming flowers are
to see

a child appreciates
they are earth-keepers
jumping from rock to rock
the wild surprise of cicadas
how fragrant fresh air is
to breathe 

a child watches
cause and effect
blowing tender seeds of dandelions 
turning on and off water
how a woodpecker’s tap tap tap is
to pause 

listen 
return
to a child 
marvel at majestic
cultivate questions
face the future 
bravely
with great care
treasuring
the miracle of earth

Wednesday, April 28, 2021

#verselove - 28: relish

For the month of April, I am participating in 30 days of #verselove poetry writing with Dr. Sarah J. Donovan's Ethical ELA

Today's poetry inspiration was by Katie, who prompted us to think about how poetry is a form of empathy, how the act of writing can result in understanding. For practice with this, she suggested a simple exercise - select 'an object that holds some significance' and write into this, describing it and imagining conversation or feelings it might have.

Here's where I ended up:



relish


every grandchild received
a small token of you

dainty depression dish for me
gold edge 
curled sides

holding it in the light
reveals
center sunburst 
tiny repeating 
lines, dashes, slants, leaf cuts

miniature spoon 
made of pewter
with intricate floral pattern

you were given this as a gift?
a special extra, 
just perfect,
you bought for yourself?
just for holidays?
when? 

how I would love to hear the story

even 
not knowing
it is enough

relish