Notes to myself… My long-departed mother’s shoes crumbled, at first peeled and then disintegrated off of our 14 year old Granddaughter’s feet, as she and I enjoyed the farms and streams finding quietude and humor during our new-found routine. Echoes of this covid desolation.

Notes to myself… that which moves me to genuine creativity seems at bay in an artistic sense – my oils (paints) remain caged even though taking them out has been on my weekly aspiration list for the past month.  Meeting with you (my thoughts) – the expression of putting sense, an order into experiences  wrapped and repurposed in a veil of vibrations resonating with this drive to uplift, redefine, reflect light and hope glistening off an ocean wave, silhouettes of tranquil intimate loving forms, or warming like the flickers of a camp fire at dusk, darkened ash and oaks a shadow against an azure sky. I live in the beauty and grace of my interpretations. Just sit and write she hearkens, and thus I shall.

Notes to myself … I touch and heal as the clear still voice leads, and yet crashed in despair just yesterday like so many others the news tries to capture.  Heartstrings tugged not being able to cradle my child, an exhausted front-liner - somehow a distant visual with mask just doesn’t cut it, or reading of 24 deaths in the VA facility’s safety decreed lock down. Abandoned my dad whose WWII souvenir renders a loss to  remember that his body is too weak to stand (without the extra care we had in place for him which was removed to protect the virus spread), gets up and wanders, and falls.  Three times this past week.  Perhaps I needed to crash because hearing the stories needs to touch deep, and I have been floating in positivity, refusal to succumb.

Notes to myself… Feeling hypocritical today as I council others to increase their virtual connectedness, I myself seem to be withdrawing.  I stopped from sending a feeling helpless message to a dear friend because I only want to be positive and not share that I can falter, implode.

Notes to myself...  There is no need to feel guilty that we are blessed and enjoying this new norm – serenity, appreciating perennials shining and thriving once again, new skills like knitting a different approach to meditative relaxation, we are receiving quality opportunities to cherish each other living on the mountain in close proximity, like last night listening to a 1980’s Phillies baseball game re-broadcast by the fire and sharing reflections like how the treasure a few beautiful texts of love from my brothers lifted and comforted.

We only have this day.  Words that my husband and I grew our relationship out of, words to embrace and celebrate the opportunity to love and open our hearts to becoming, motivation to listen and respect boundaries, embrace creation, forgive in this moment, choose life, kindness, and accept what is.