• She Did

    On the day of our sale, when the buyer signed and I knew—really knew—that our home was sold, I felt the pressure of years gathering in my chest. Tears burst out.

    I was standing in the kitchen of our RV when the weight of it hit me.

    I was not four years old, or eight, or ten, or a teenager. My twenties were behind me.

    My survival had become a life. A home. A marriage. Children raised in safety. Love sustained over decades.

    How did this girl who came from dirt, chaos, filth, take care of a home for thirty years?

    How did this girl, who knew nothing about how to keep a relationship together, stay married for twenty-eight years?

    How did this girl, who was so abused, not abuse her children? Not allow them to be abused? Not raise a hand to them?

    How did this girl, who was not raised by love, raise with love?

    How did this girl insist that her children learn how to protect themselves? That they had a duty to protect themselves?

    How did this girl, whose body belonged to everyone else, keep her soul her own?

    She lived through their abuse, their dislike, their disdain, their ridicule, their name-calling. She lived through it.

    Slowly, steadily, methodically, she took the next step. And then another.

    She built a life the same way she healed—one small choice at a time.

    Her saving grace was realizing she could finally say:

    No more.

    I don’t need you.

    I don’t need to mother you.

    I don’t need to be your keeper.

    I don’t need to be needed by you.

    I am enough by myself.

    And then she began to see possibility. To see life.

    Jody.

    A relationship that mattered. One worth fighting for.

    She learned to communicate. To apologize. To stay when staying was hard. To work things out.

    Her healing continued because that responsibility belonged to her. No more giving up her thoughts. No more giving up her right to decide what was right for her.

    She would decide.

    She would become her own best friend. Her own witness. She would build a relationship with her spirit, with her soul.

    Thirty years later, standing between what was and what will be, she understands something fully:

    They did not get to decide who she would become.

    She did.

    The little girl who survived became the woman who lived.

    Tae Kwon Do, a family affair

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  • Lazy, Crazy, Days of Summer

    So, this is summer. We all began daydreaming about this time of year during the February/March doldrums. Longer days, more time to bike, read in a comfy outdoor chair, walks with friends or family, cookouts, maybe swim, possibly attend a local festival or even a trip to the state fair or a getaway.  Don’t think about bugs, grass cutting, watering the gardens, traffic, crowds, bored kids, very hot days, house maintenance at your place or a relative’s, ants in the kitchen, work that doesn’t diminish or go away, higher food costs or utility bills. Just roll out the lazy days. Really?

    For each of us with plans for a long weekend, there is a scheduler or boss with post it notes from a few of our peers for the same time off and calendars needing additional worker hours. Caregivers are scrambling to fit in dentist appointments, physicals, and eye tests and all required before the last week of August. And don’t forget finding drivers’ ed if there is an appropriate age kid in the house.

    What is it about our easy-going collective summer fantasy? Planted in our rhythms by school calendars built around agricultural and/or weather limitations centuries ago. Perpetuated by advertisers and businesses. Lots of people work their longest hours in warm weather. For them summer means more bucks to stretch through slow times. Or those extra summer jobs pay for the extra summer expenses. 

    What we share in our summer dreams across many parts of the United States are the simple pleasures of walking outside without a coat or gloves, not slipping on ice, seeing neighbors or friends while casually walking, sitting on a public bench sipping a cup of coffee or slushy. There are flowers to admire, fresh vegetables and fruit available that taste better, sunlight more hours instead of porch and garage lights. After staying inside during sunlight-starved months of cold, this is worth the wait. Wasps, bees, flies, mosquitos and ticks: please give us a break.

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    One response to “Lazy, Crazy, Days of Summer”

    1. Ellen Shriner Avatar

      collective summer fantasy sums it up—I fall for it every time!

  • Lost and Found

    My Aunt Corinne, who died nearly 12 years ago, nudged me recently. It took the form of a question from my cousin, who wondered why the plaque on Aunt Corinne’s crypt had never been completed. The cemetery staff told her they’d never received her ashes, so they couldn’t update the plaque.

    The ashes weren’t there? Where were they?

    My mother’s younger sister Corinne was a widow without children, so her ties to her nieces and nephews—to my cousin and her siblings and to me and my siblings—were important to her. As she grew older and her health deteriorated, my two brothers and I helped with practical matters and some financial paperwork, and my sister managed her health care. When Aunt Corinne died, I flew from Minnesota to Ohio, and one of my brothers and I set her prepaid funeral arrangements in motion. 

    Aunt Corinne was sweet, fun-loving, and thoughtful, so her death was certainly a loss. Even as we mourned her, we were besides ourselves with worry about my mother. The day after Aunt Corinne died, Mom fell and ruptured her spleen. She needed emergency surgery and was in ICU so she couldn’t attend the funeral. She went to rehab where she fell again. That began the downhill slide which ended with her death two months after Aunt Corinne died. 

    During those months, I’d flown back to Ohio several times to see Mom. Distraught and preoccupied, I overlooked the email from the funeral home telling me Aunt Corinne’s ashes were ready to be interred. I don’t recall the funeral home following up to remind me about them.

    When my cousin asked me about the ashes, I had no idea where they could be. I began trying to piece together the trail. None of us had them. Had Aunt Corinne donated her body to science and her ashes never came back to us? My sister said no. Aunt Corinne nudged me again. I recalled saving an old email from the funeral home. I thought it was related to my mother’s funeral at the same funeral home Aunt Corinne had used. When I opened it, I saw it was the original email about Aunt Corinne’s ashes. I can’t explain why I still had it, except Aunt Corinne needed me to find it.

    OMG, could the funeral home still have the ashes almost 12 years later? 

    They do! I was so relieved. We had all done our best during that difficult time, but had missed the last step. After several calls to the funeral home and cemetery, I was able to arrange for Aunt Corinne’s ashes to be sent to the cemetery. I appreciate the chance to fix what we didn’t even know was broken.

    Soon Aunt Corinne will join her husband Uncle Bob in their crypt. She’ll have lots of company. Her brother and sister-in-law (my cousin’s parents) are in a nearby crypt. I’m glad she’ll finally be where she belongs! 

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    One response to “Lost and Found”

    1. Eliza Waters Avatar

      Oh, my, what a story. So glad the mystery was resolved at last. Corinne can finally rest in peace!


Recent Posts

  • She Did

    On the day of our sale, when the buyer signed and I knew—really knew—that our home was sold, I felt the pressure of years gathering in my chest. Tears burst out. I was standing in the kitchen of our RV when the weight of it hit me. I was not four years old, or eight,…

  • Lazy, Crazy, Days of Summer

    What is it about summer that inspires such expectations? Eating ice cream in the afternoon? Walking in sand? Sitting on a bench with a good friend? A bad mosquito bite?

  • Lost and Found

    the chance to fix what we didn’t even know was broken