On Tuesday my youngest son celebrated his 25th birthday. The family started celebrating this milestone on Sunday but Troy and his buddies got a head start on Saturday night. Clearly a quarter century is wonderful reason to party!

This is my son, I want to shout out loud
My third born, my baby, you makes me so proud

You’re a fighter, you showed it right from the start
While just bean size within me you touched my heart

Athletic, intelligent, funny and kind with a witty type of flair
When I’m in your presence I don’t have another care

I’m happy and pleased as any mother would be
that I was given you as a son to oversee

As I watch your life unfold I am filled with so much love for you
I wish you continued life’s blessings in all you do

Happy 25th Birthday! Here’s to many more!
Happy Birthday dear Troy, may you have all you wish for!

Let go; Let Go!

Today all I can see and hear are signs to let go

Songs plead

Magazines state

Newspapers admonish

and I want to yell back at all of them, “How the *@#* am I to let go if I don’t know what it is

I am holding on to!”

I’m holding on to a dream, a fairy tale

holding on by a thread

to what could have been

what should have been

not wanting to face what is

Children are a beautiful gift and because we bear them

and rear them, over time we become possessive and think they are ours

When choices are made that are unexpected

that we don’t like

that burn just thinking about them

It’s easier to hold on to the dream rather than let go

Let go and let them fall

Let go and let them fail

Let go and allow growth and healing…

Let go and soar

The line of SUVs, trucks and cars snake around the building in front of me
Although the calendar declared spring several weeks ago with today’s car wash it has officially arrived

The ritual begins
dirty, salt encrusted vehicles slowly creep toward wash bays
I imagine my car as human trembling with excitement like a three year old child

With the clink of a toonie in the slot
the wand vibrates in my hand and I feel power of the water surge, straining to be released

Dirt and grime weave a soapy path to the drain
Strangely I am reminded of my dog taking a refreshing dip in the river on a hot day and I giggle as I envision my little Audi shaking off the excess car wash water

With left hand I apply wax, right hand buffs the exterior to a high gloss sheen
The detritus of winter has been removed
Atonement achieved for the travails of winter
The ritual complete

My car proudly glistens and gleams
reflecting sunshine; momentarily blinding
A beauty to be admired
until I drive through the first puddle

Today is Oma’s 80th birthday
I see clear blue eyes; gentle and understanding
Lined face – mapping memories
She carries wisdom expressed and untold

Laughter transforms her and provides a glimpse of her past,
sparkling eyes and a bit of mischievousness

She crossed the Atlantic 60 years ago leaving behind tulips,
windmills, a bustling urban center in Rotterdam, her loving parents
and her younger sister.

They had a thriving general store and sold milk delivered by horse-drawn
carriage on the cobblestone streets.
Piano, accordion, merriment at family gatherings; she was willing to leave that behind and travel to an unknown foreign land
a place of mystery
follow her young love
The power of youth!

Dirt floors and a hard life awaited her
She grew to love this land that opened her eyes to adulthood
She didn’t turn tail and return home but chose to raise her family here
and etch a new life

Each success, each set back, each step forward
reflected in the wrinkles that line
her beautiful face and hands.

What stories does she carry? The hard earned lessons that only experience can teach; the lessons of the heart – disappointments masked,
happy moments cherished, proud moments multiplied.

Her Dutch accent commands attention when she speaks
it is both familiar and foreign at the same time.
She is matriarch of a growing family:
children, grandchildren, great-grandchildren

As life begins to assess its ransom through loss of physical mobility
Her mind remains sharp, continuing to enjoy new discoveries and revelations through the youngest branches of her heritage.
Surrounded by children she beams with happiness

And nothing feels as good, as warm, as comforting,
as being wrapped in a hug
surrounded by Oma’s strong arms

Yesterday I published my first post referencing the ongoing battle between personal censor and self. It felt liberating to tuck the censor away – at least for the time being.

As I was nearing the end of a run yesterday I saw a homeless person. He looked like he was wearing several layers of clothing, he was unshaven, shaky and stumbling, and his eyes had the look of a startled deer when he realized that I saw him. I didn’t smile at him. I ran faster. Then I wondered why. What threat was he to me? Why wasn’t I thinking how I could help him? That incident was the inspiration for today’s post.

Sunday

Today is Sunday
a day of worship for many
a day of rest for others
a day of survival for some…

Getting by, getting through
making it until night

Going through motions
putting on Sunday best
putting on slippers
putting on a garbage bag to stop the rain

Trying to remain invisible, on the sidelines
staying out of sight

There may be laughter
a special dinner to eat
a special book to read
a special spot dug out by a culvert

Crawling in, passing time
numb to all around

Today is Sunday
What do you see?
The gift of a life to live

There are others
all around

Wishing for the same, wishing for change
giving up the fight

Open our eyes
see the homeless
see the downtrodden
see a reflection of life on the edge

Someone’s brother, someone’s sister
mother, father, son or daughter; a friend

We are they
They are us
and cannot remain in the shadows
They are worthy of the fight