How To Say Goodbye – Don’t

This is Day 31

Thank you for joining me during the month of October for #write31days. Now that we are ending the series, I am just getting started with this rodeo. Was this a practice drill? Is tomorrow really November 1? More about that later.

To read the series in its entirety, click the page tab at the top of the home page. Spoiler alert, there are not 31 posts. Right, I know, I fell short of the goal. But I don’t really see it that way. More about that later.

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I do not like goodbye’s. Unless I am leaving the DMV or the dentist. But even then I have usually tried to connect with someone in the place and have done some sort of bonding, making it difficult to leave. So goodbye’s, I am not a fan. When I say bonding, I mean I hope I have gotten past how are you’s and how is the weather’s. I am a digger. Though I try to be gentle. If we were having coffee I would be gently going deeper in conversation rather than keeping it superficial.

If you are a regular reader here, it is rare to hear me speak. Usually its a lot of poetry. And I like it that way, but today is a horse of a different color and I am feeling a bit chatty, sentimental and having a difficult time saying goodbye to this series.

Perhaps it is because I am struggling to say goodbye to my beloved old English Lab who is hanging around this thin veil of living and leaving. It is painful and yet there are moments laced with such tender beauty. I am clinging to the moments and praying for a miracle. I am seeing signs of love and life and glory tinged on the edges of her illness. The tail wags, a barometer of life. She rolls on her back and lets me rub her sweet spot, an indicator of emotion. And the food? If she can still eat her beloved peanut butter treats, she’s not going anywhere anytime soon (she says hopefully and expectantly).

So perhaps saying goodbye is best when we focus on the hellos, the gratitude, the blessings of the life and life experiences rather than the void. I do not know how to say goodbye’s well. So do not listen to me. But as I map out the end of this series I want to focus on gratitude.

My best goodbye is a big hello, thank you, blessings on your head.

If you have read here for a season, you have come across my words on aging and dementia. This is a theme of sorts  in my life as I walk through this confusing disease with my mother. It is a journey of discovery. Of pain and joy. Of surprise and disappointment. I do not want to say goodbye to who she was before dementia, I choose to say hello to who she is becoming every day within the new paradigm of her life, aging with dementia. Hello, thank you, blessings.

I want to choose to embrace the moment, savor the moment and declare the gratitude in the moment.

I guess the best goodbye is a hello till later.

Maybe that’s the best I can do on this Day 31. I hope this is hello. I hope this is see you in November. And I hope you will be around for the book. Because the book is coming, I  trust the timing. And no, I do not know the details, I just know my heart’s desire on the matter. And I hope you will help me explore the newsletter and join me if it is birthed and takes off.

So this is my postcard from me for today. Hello, thank you, bless you, warmly, e.

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If I have met you through this series, thank you. If you have subscribed to the blog to follow my writing during October, thank you.

I hope to see you in November and all the months ahead.

I am dreaming of a weekly newsletter which contains writing that would not be found on my blog. If you think this sounds interesting, intriguing or has any merit at all, drop a comment in the comment box and say, “I MIGHT be interested in that”. And if you are subscribing, you will hear me announce here a place to sign up if I go forward with it. I think a newsletter may be fun for all of us. (Rather than a second blog.) Yes, I did mention that as an option earlier this week.

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The Dream Of The Waiting Soil: A Guest Post — Laura Boggess

Today is Day 30. Welcome. I am NOT ready for this series to end. Perhaps you are. Just as I’m getting into the groove it is time to wind down this October writing challenge. I am just being honest. I think that is important. Don’t you. 

Please join me tomorrow for what will be the last day of this series. I am still scheming and dreaming of how to say goodbye. Or how to pull the curtain. Or how to build a bridge to November. if you’d like to receive posts in your inbox (they slip in quietly without much fuss), click on the tab marked Subscriber at the top of the page. But of course, you already knew that.

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I am so honored to have my writer, blogger, friend, Laura Boggess guest posting today. Laura was one of the first bloggers I connected with when I began my writing journey in the land of the “interwebs”. And she was one of the first bloggers I had the sincere pleasure of meeting in real life. Yes I have looked directly into her beautiful blue eyes, into her soul. And she is a treasure. A gifted word weaver and a very gentle lady.
Enjoy Laura here. And then treat yourself to a copy of her new book, “Playdates With God”.

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I spend the mornings in the flowers–cutting back, pulling up, raking out. I’m late this year–the frost already thick on the grass when the sun drops the diamonds of first light. My mother-in-law told me to wait; let the birds glean what they will, she said. And they did. The coneflower is dry as straw, the Black-eyed Susans blink. All the color is gone from the garden. The brittle browns and faded rusts shush me as they rub together in the wind.

I rake leaf remains out from around tubers–their subtle reds and golds like scattered gems. The thick bans of iris greens break easily with fingers. I smooth around their fibrous heads, let them breathe. Already the leaves have started to make rich compost–the soil underneath fragrant and dark. I breathe deep its heady scent, close my eyes and dig fingers in the cool moist.

This afternoon the robins are in a frenzy over my newly cleared soil. I watch from the window as they hastily march back and forth amongst the stubby remains of my garden. It looks so clean. The mulch around the dormant clumps of green holds such promise. I wrap my arms around my sides–hug close this seed that strains against the dark soil of my heart. Yesterday the first snowbirds came calling. You are too early, I said to them, through the glass of the kitchen window. I watched them pick at the ground for stray seeds, rosy beaks and slate feathers speaking the horizon of scant days.

When i was in the seventh grade I wrote an essay about what I want to be when I grow up. Mr. Kovalan, our English teacher, assigned us a theme every week. It was my favorite thing about school. Each week I looked forward to discovering what topic he would put before us. Mr. Kovalan never said much, but his comments on my themes always encouraged me. This is very well written, he might pen. Or: A very good story. There wasn’t much I was good at, but Mr. Kovalan helped me see that telling stories was something I could do. But this one? What did I want to be? A girl like me didn’t have a lot of choices. A girl like me rarely left the hollow. I thought long and hard about it.

When Mr. Kovalan graded my essay, he left me with few words.

Your choice surprises me.

That was all he said. That dear, dear man.

It was the first time I thought that maybe I could be more. That maybe…maybe there was more than what I know.

When I was in seventh grade I learned to dream the dream of the waiting soil.

I am a sleeping garden. I dream of shoots of green breaking through earth with pointed fingers. A glimpse of sky rests on my memory–white on blue with golden hues. in darkness the dream speaks hope into the night.
In the darkness the garden becomes a thing of expectation–of sleeping joy.

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Author of the newly-released Playdates with God: Having a Childlike Faith in a Grown-up World, Laura Boggess lives in a little valley in West Virginia with her husband and two sons. She is a content editor for TheHighCalling.org  and blogs at lauraboggess.com. Connect with Laura on Facebook and Twitter. Laura’s book is available on Amazon.

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Perfectly Imperfect

 Today is Day 20.

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Thank you for joining me. You gift me with your presence. And I am grateful. 
To catch up on all the posts in this series, click the link at the top of this home page marked #write31days2014.
To receive posts in your inbox when they are, well posted, click “Subscribe” and follow the super easy instructions.

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I am determined to throw my gaze past the smudges marring the windshield, as we fly at the breakneck speed of sixty miles per hour ish down the highway. On the way to a sixtieth birthday party for a precious redheaded friend. I cannot take my eyes off the sky. I am under the spell of beauty.

Thankfully I am not driving. He can’t take his eyes off the road. I snap, click, snap, click. And darn it. The sky and the phone pic look nothing alike. He sees the dirt overtaking the glass shield, spread like a bad case of poison ivy. I see a sorbet sky on a Sunday. Signature, signed by The Sky Writer, Creator, Artist, God.  I like the view from here. I will not win any awards with my framed beauty, but the sky won me over and I am captured by color and brushstroke. Swirl and twirl. Color combinations and the use of light.

The sky is the Louvre. And I am a patron on the arts.

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We study the floor in the kitchen. Together. My friend and I. Lovers of beauty and the restoration of old. We critique the work that was done and the decisions that were made in the loving renewal and renovation of this 114 year old home.

“I don’t like things too shiny.”

Neither do I, my friend. Neither do I. I crave, patina and rust. Chips, dings and worn and torn. Signs of love and life and age. Shiny. Ok, a little goes a long way. Rough hewn and battle weary. Comfort and soothe.

Perfectly imperfect and I are falling in love all over again.

I look past the messy residue of a well-loved windshield. He keeps his eyes on the road. But I could have sworn he saw the unveiling of the beauty before us, stretched out, paint still wet, on Highway 17. That night we went to celebrate.

The celebration happens on the way. Everything happens along the way.

An imperfect sky does not exist. Embrace imperfect and find the beauty in the broken. With me, won’t you.

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Joining Laura for Playdates (Oh and you should totally check out her new book on Amazon: Playdates with God, by Laura Boggess)

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Childishness

Today is Day 17 Have I told you lately that I am grateful. For you. Thanks for reading along here. Your presence is a gift.

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Yesterday I chased butterflies around my yard. Two lead me on a wild goose chase through the grass that clings to summertime. Under a canopy of azure blue, I chased down a pair of clementine orange butterflies. Their unbridled energy and speed nearly had me winded as they zigzagged and zag zigged around my butterfly bushes. Diving in and out with the agility and speed of a pair of greyhounds with wings.

I wondered. Why aren’t you on your way to Mexico?

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And I wondered what one would think. Yes, the one’s driving by my house. Spying a grown woman with her camera phone, chasing butterflies. Or perhaps they wouldn’t see these smallish beauties and think I was chasing a dream. Or the wind. Or the sun’s rays on my lawn.

I struggled to keep up. Their play was so crazy. Ebullient. Frenzied. They were a pair of frenetic playmates. Calling me to enter in. And I, a willing chaser of whimsy. On the hunt for pure delight.

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I hung the moon and the stars. Under the lights. Framed a little spot of whimsy on my porch. Sometimes I think it would be better suited for a  child’s nursery than the porch of a 114 year old Victorian house. But I love it. And if you ride by my house I hope you smile.  And more than that I hope you crave play and laughter. Joy and whimsy.

Childishness.

Childlikeness and joy. Wonder and wondering. Freedom to stop and play alone in your own front yard.

May you find time to play. To laugh. To give chase after the smallest delights that hover on the fringes of your world.

And be refreshed by the simple beauty of it all.

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http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=nbrnDktGSIE

My beautiful friend, Laura Boggess from Laura Boggess dot com, has a wonderful new book. Playdates with God: Having a Childlike Faith In A Grown-up World, available on Amazon, is currently sold out! (This is an indicator of how fabulous Laura’s writing, voice and heart are.) Laura has people longing for God and falling in love with a spirit of playfullness.  Today’s post takes inspiration from Laura and her book. You will want to order a copy for yourself and your peeps.

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