RAINBOWS AND UNICORNS: A SENTIMENTAL JOURNEY

Today is Easter.  We had a family brunch late morning/early afternoon.  Now the family has left and the house is quiet.  I'm thinking back on the past month, which has been a challenge both in good ways and in ways not so great.  I feel off-kilter, in transition, leaving some things behind and not quite knowing what is ahead.  Not a state that I relish being in.  But here I am so, present moment thoughts: 

Today, it's a beautiful sunny spring day with daffodils, camelias, and rhodies blooming in my yard; azalea buds offer a peek at the colors they will announce with brilliant fanfare in another week or so.  Cherry blossoms, magnolias, and bright green new leaf buds stand out brilliantly against azure blue skies.  I am always amazed when the life cycle begins anew.  It is a phenomenon I know to expect, but still somehow takes me by surprise.

We missed one daughter-in-law today as she made her way home from a weekend away with friends.  But the rest were here around the table, joining hands to start our meal and each taking a turn saying what we are thankful for.  This family moment of "grace" is a special time whenever we gather.  There is always, from each, the gratitude for us being together, for family, for each other.  Then there might be a special occasion to be grateful for, or a life event, or an appreciation of a sunny day, like today.  Our youngest granddaughter, when she was very little, used to listen to all of us and at her turn she'd say, "I'm thankful for rainbows and unicorns."  We thought it was so sweet and cute.  Now at nine, she participates fully and maturely, but her ending is always, "...AND I'm thankful for rainbows and unicorns", as she pokes good-natured fun at her younger self.  Still so sweet.

She and her big sister, 14, grabbed empty Easter baskets after brunch and headed to the gardens to search for candy-filled eggs.  We all cheered them on, giving them clues, watching as they collected their stash.  We took family photos, inspected the new garden growth, talked about what to plant in the raised beds this year, and made plans for summer family gatherings.

Back inside, full of good food, a few candies begged from the girls, feeling content and happy together, we grew quieter.  

I looked around and thought about my own childhood Easters.  I always had a fancy new dress that was a little stiff and scratchy.  I had patent leather shoes and sometimes a little hat.  I went to Sunday School at the local Methodist church, then sat with my family for the church service, hearing about the Resurrection of Jesus and that he died and came back to life for my sins.  I wasn't sure what all that meant, but I felt sorry for Jesus on that cross and that it had somehow been my fault. I was glad that he'd been brought back from the dead, but I had never seen him.  I much preferred thinking about the Easter basket waiting for me at home, delivered just that morning by the Easter bunny, who I had also never seen, but who left me candy and gifts nonetheless.  Childhood can be a confusing time. 

We are a more secular family.  We celebrate the new life of a new season; we celebrate our love and connection to each other; we wear jeans and sneakers on Easter Sunday.  We look for the good in others, feel the love in our hearts, and try to do good for the world, and in that way, I guess, we are honoring Jesus' teachings even if we don't put on scratchy clothes and take to our church pews.

Like the seasons, life is full of change; nothing remains constant.  There are times of connection and times of longing for connection. But if we are intentional, compassionate, understanding, and loving; if we prioritize those we care about more often than not, share our bounty, share our lives, share our joys and sorrows, and be there for the really big stuff in each other's lives, what is lasting is a place where we are safe and cared for -- all of us -- and in this way we find in each moment an infinity of gratitude. 

On this Easter Sunday I'm incredibly thankful for my life, for the blessings and luck and hard work and privilege to create these connections to family and friends and the lifeforce around me.  

AND I'm thankful for rainbows and unicorns. 🌈🦄

At least that's the view from here...©

THE REAL DEAL

I TAKE IT ALL BACK!  The reason sappy and maudlin is so silly is that it's often based in fantasy.  (See post from 4/21/19).

Real deal on yesterday's Easter gathering:

I spent early Easter morning putting the finishing touches on the Easter baskets for the girls and hiding them.  I made sure all the stuffed eggs were ready to be hidden outside.  I set the table and pulled together a craft project for the girls to help decorate the table when they arrived.  I put on a pretty, frilly, lavender tunic and even earrings(!) instead of my usual hoodie.  I looked pretty!

Hub is the cook and he started to prep food.  Then we had a slight disagreement over whether he should prepare veggie-free eggs for the grandgirls who are picky about any weird things in their "normal" food.  I thought they'd balk at the veggie scramble and lobbied for plain "cheesy eggs", their favorite.  I won the argument, but the oldest decided to eat the scramble and the youngest decided not to eat her eggs at all.  (Well, except for plowing through the whites of 4 hardboiled eggs of various dyed colors.)  He was later happy to point this out to me and I recognized my tendency to anticipate and mitigate any possible discomfort others may experience.  (Apparently I will never learn to let well enough alone in that regard.)

Son One's family arrived first with smiles, hugs, and a giant fruit salad.  Son Two and his fiance arrived late with biscotti, their puppy, and what I perceived as a surly attitude from Son Two.  I went in for a hug, which was brief and returned without enthusiasm as he brushed by, mumbling, "I just need some coffee..." and made a beeline for the pot.  OK then.

I got the girls busy on the craft project as the adults gathered in the kitchen for coffee, biscotti, and mimosas.  Soon it felt the youngest granddaughter had been gone too long.  I went searching and found her alone in the bathroom, door closed.  Uh-oh.  I had hidden her Easter basket in the tub, thinking she wouldn't need to use the bathroom right away before the basket hunt commenced.  Well, she had found it and, alone, emptied it all over the bathroom floor.  My fantasy of all the adults going on the basket hunt, encouraging the girls, then sitting around them and oooing and ahhhing as they discovered the cool things the Easter Bunny had brought was dashed.

I was not upset with her, just asked her to bring her things out for all to see.  She refused.  She gathered them up, and decided to head to the closet in the Girls Room and wouldn't let anyone else see her things.  We left her to it.  Then again, it seemed she was gone a long time.  Oops.  The door had closed and she'd become "locked in" and no one heard her calling out.  It was only a brief time, but likely scary.  Once rescued, she still refused to let us all see her Easter things.

Big sister decided not to hunt for her basket right away and wanted to wait until after eating, at which point she went searching alone and unannounced and brought her basket to the kitchen and unloaded it on the countertop with only her dad and me standing by to watch; again thwarting my idea of having this be one of the highlights of the morning.  Oh well.

Brunch was yummy, although my meal was interrupted by youngest granddaughter needing to go potty and she strongly believes only I can help her.  This is a common occurrence and I don't mind at all; I've grown accustomed to eating cold food. 😉   At the end of the meal, our two family Game of Thrones nerds spent considerable time going over every plot point and fan theory of how it will all end.  I watch and enjoy, but had no idea the depth of knowledge and thought others put into it!  They were alone at the table by the time they'd realized the rest of us had moved on to other things.

After brunch Son Two, fully caffeinated at this point and in better spirits, went outside with me to the yard to hide plastic eggs.  Puppy came along and went wild running and rolling in the grass -- and finding the eggs!  We had to extract a couple from his excited jaws, but he'd downed the gummy worms and yogurt covered pretzels and was on the hunt for more, so we dashed around gathering up the lowest lying eggs and repositioning them, hoping the youngest would be able to find and reach them.

The hunt was mostly successful except for the puppy getting super excited to see what was in the baskets and at one point the youngest raised her basket over her head to protect her stash from curious pup, but she tipped the basket and all the eggs came tumbling down just at the edge of the yard where it drops off precipitously, but not too dangerously since there are thick bushes there.  Still, the eggs rolled out of sight, down the hill and under the bushes, necessitating Son One to go bush-whacking to retrieve them.  (We suspect a few are still down there since we came up short in the end.)

The girls brought their eggs inside and emptied the goodies into bowls but I soon discovered my attempt at "healthy treats" was not met with enthusiasm.  Guess nobody really likes dried banana chips or candied fruit.  The yogurt covered pretzels and cranberries were a hit, as were the Cheezits and gummy worms.  Good thing they each got one chocolate bunny in their baskets with toys, books, crafts, and clothes.

While the adults settled into various combinations of adult conversation, I spent time playing pretend with the girls (especially the little one) in a different room.  It was fun and the stuff of memories, but I also wanted to be part of the adult conversations.  I stole away from fantasy play for awhile to join in, continuing to take photos as I'd done all day, already planning my Facebook photo montage.  But at one point the talk turned to social media and Son One admonished me for my prolific posts.  (He who posts NOTHING, but obviously still looks at FB!)  My feelings got a little hurt, told him so, and he apologized, but point taken.  I only posted one photo of the day that night and let it go.  I've been told before by him (and others) that I post too much, and I realize more than hurt, I feel embarrassed, so again I'm going to limit my FB participation.  My desire for connections there with people I care about are rarely reciprocated anyway -- take a hint, Donna!

By mid-afternoon we were winding down...Son Two and Future DIL had other plans so they hit the road back to Seattle.  The grandgirls had been up at dawn for Easter baskets at their house, so they and their mom and dad were tired and ready for quieter family time and headed home too.  Alone, Hub and I looked at the remains of the day -- Easter grass everywhere, some tracked in mud from the garden, a stack of dishes to go in the dishwasher, Easter decorations to be dismantled and put back in the attic.  We had some work still to do.

As I went about the clean up tasks, I had to admit, it had not been perfect.  But my minor disappointments were just part of the experience.  I was grateful to have a family where no one yelled; no one hit their kids (we don't do that in our family!); the pup didn't run away or poop on the carpet; no one slammed doors or left in a huff; no one got drunk or fell asleep or turned on the TV to escape; no one even looked at their cell phones for any length of time -- only mostly to take photos.  As family togetherness goes, we do a pretty darn good job.  At the end of our time together, everyone eagerly got out their calendar to schedule the next family gathering, which will likely also be imperfectly real...and on it goes.

At least, that's the view from here...©
Photo Credit:  www.pixabay.com

ALL IN THE FAMILY

I don't write about my family all that much, as much as to protect their privacy as to not bore my readers.  But sometimes if feels there is a whole, important swath of my life I'm leaving out.  Lots of bloggers use their families for regular fodder, I just don't.   But, oops, here goes....

First, it's hard to write about them without getting sappy and maudlin, which reminds me of when I used to drink.  That was me after my third glass of chardonnay.  That or self-pitying.  Either way, not attractive, so I try to avoid sappy and maudlin.  Still....I do love my family members to the point of tears, which I try to keep private with moderate success.

I really am so lucky to be married to the same man for almost 47 years.  We met in high school; such a cliche to say "my high school sweetheart".  I don't know that we were ever "sweethearts", which has such an innocent ring to it.  Saying we were high school "mutual lust objects" might be closer to the truth.  That lasted awhile.  But by the time the initial "blush" wore off, we were basically unable or unwilling to disentangle our single selves from our coupledom, which had grown to include families, friends, common experiences, a few tragedies, and lots of fun times.  You know, relationship stuff.  There were stress points for sure and brief "time outs" but 4 years into it all we got married and on it went.  We had MANY stress points in our early married years and one big year-long time out when we lived separately, but then, well, we were still us and we decided to move to the East Coast together and take it one day at a time.  Then we moved to the West Coast and began our true "adult" lives and I guess we are still doing that. 

But sometimes things are still hard.  We haven't had the very best start to 2019.  It seems we've been drifting a bit, butting heads a bit, feeling our way into what I think is a new age and stage of life and marriage.  Neither of us is blameless just as neither of us is to blame either.  Life just gets messy and we've never been on this road before.  It's like when we travel and don't know where to turn, where to eat, where to find lodging; tempers flare for a time, then calm down, then we laugh, then it all starts again until we get familiar with the new territory.

We just returned from a vacation where one night, in the midst of another of our marathon 'processing' conversations,  I went into non-alcohol-fueled self-pity mode and decided he was a saint for putting up with me over all these decades.  I cried and told him I would understand if he was just finished with me.  I told him I'd understand if he wanted to just divorce, move on, and have the life he deserved.  I was obviously out of my mind, and he knew it.  He looked at me and with a weary sigh, said, "Now why would I want to do that?  I love you."  See?  Sainthood.  We are now past that storm; there will be others.  But we are still us.  Still here.  To the end, no doubt.

My sons.  I worry that I'm forgetting details of their childhoods that I thought I'd always remember.  I really need to get my old photos out of the box and remind myself of our lives back then.  I was a faithful journal-keeper too, but those journals likely make me sound like the most depressed, pissed off, overwhelmed woman on earth.  They were my place of catharsis when times were hard.  And times tended to be hard for a woman/wife/mother who was trying to be "supermom" and emotionally and physically exhausted from it all a lot of the time.  That said, those boys were my world, and seeing them now as adults, one with children of his own, is a little disorienting.  In their early 30's, successful, happy, independent, in loving relationships, eager to be part of family life with the rest of us, excited to gather for our weekly Family Dinners and holidays and birthdays...it really does bring me to tears of gratitude....

....which are different tears from those shed over childhood sibling battles (there are literal scars);  calls from frustrated teachers, teenaged broken hearts, alcohol and pot experimentation, college "antics" (that's not at all the right word and I'm sure I don't know the half of it), and times when the necessary separation from "mommy" made me feel kicked to the curb (and broken hearted) in spite of all my efforts to always be close to them.

There are no insurance policies against the bad stuff happening, so I'm glad those years were full of great and wonderful and fun times too: First girlfriends, school dances, football and crew, smart, funny friends hanging out at the house, long conversations, and many, many family trips and outings.  I'm grateful we moved through the hard stuff and came out OK, actually great, on the other side.  I'm thankful for every moment of the good stuff....and I still miss it some as the "boys" have moved their allegiances, experiences, and confidences to share with their women, as it should be, but still....

Grandkids.  I never really thought about having grandchildren.  I guess there is the whole 'circle of life' thing where on some level if you have kids you might assume one day there will be grandkids, but that's no guarantee, especially these days when any number of people forgo marriage and/or children.  It's all good.  So I just figured I'd sit back and see what happened.  What happened is Son One married a woman who had a baby girl from a previous marriage.  Instant Grandma.  Then they had another daughter together.  Son Two is getting married next year and ... well ... we will see.

For now the two granddaughters I do have have stolen my heart in a way I never would have thought.  And I also love that I can plainly see they are not perfect.  They are perfectly human with foibles and lovable aspects and so much to learn.  They delight and exhaust me and sometimes even make me mad.  I'm grateful they live nearby and I get to see them often, having them be part of our lives.  Selfishly, at their young ages I love how much they currently love me and want to be at our house all the time.  I know (having gone through this separation once with our sons) that one day they will not be so enamored of Grandma and Grandpa and might want to be anywhere but here.  But for now, I'm making it a priority to play pretend, do crafts, read books, volunteer in classrooms, host sleepovers, mend clothes, buy treats, go shopping, listen to problems and fears and joys, answer "life" questions, share family stories, act goofy, laugh at silly jokes, learn about kid music, dance together, sing loudly, and applaud their two-person plays put on for an audience of family adults.

So on this Easter Eve, I'm thinking of family....partly of the one I grew up in and realizing again that I am the only one left of my family of origin, my parents and brothers gone on to wherever we go when our bodies are finished.  That's a lonely feeling.  But also of the new "family of origin" I've created.  We are all still here; each in our own age and stage of life, each with our own joys and challenges, all gathering tomorrow for Family Brunch at our house, Easter Egg hunting in our yard, creating memories that may last for awhile before they fade.  Hopefully the feelings of sappy and maudlin love with remain.

At least, that's the view from here...©
Photo Credit:  www.pixabay.com

THE HONESTY OF CHILDREN: A LESSON

I don't write much about my granddaughters.  It's not that I'm not a typical proud, smitten grandma; it's just that when grandparents go on and on and on and on....well, it's like back in the day when my dad used to get the slide projector out to once again show pictures of that trip to Colorado in the Chevy -- it gets old after awhile to sit through the narration.

But today I am moved to write about the girls because I miss them (they are out of town on a family vacation this week) and because I had an "a-ha" from each of them at Easter brunch.

Our youngest is 3 years old now.  Already.  Yes, the time has flown by.  I looked back at the post I did when she was born.  It seems like yesterday.  We cared for her 3 days a week for the first year and a half of her life, then 2 days a week for another year.  Then she moved into full time childcare/preschool.  It was both a relief and a grief.  Those intense 10 hour days of childcare bonded us and exhausted us.  But regardless of how easy or challenging the days, she was a fact of life for Hub and me and we will always cherish that time of getting to know her, to love her, to give her all of our attention and care while she was with us from infancy through toddlerhood.

Her older sister is now 8 years old and there is a huge difference between 7 and 8, I realize.  Suddenly she seems to be already on the cusp  of those "tween years" in some ways.  She's a math whiz, loves art, loves her gymnastics class, has joined a Brownie troop, has lots of friends, listens to modern pop music, and has a pretty sophisticated sense of humor.  And she's also still a little girl in many ways.  She loves to come to our house and hang out with us -- it's finding time for her in our/her busy life to arrange that which can be challenging.  I try to appreciate every single minute with her because  in a blink of an eye her friends will be more important than her family and hanging out with grandma will take a backseat.

Watching the girls grow up is the same as when I watched my sons grow up.  It's a bittersweet experience.

So here are the lessons I learned "out of the mouths of babes" at Easter dinner.  Plates were full and first bites being taken, when the youngest took a bite of her cheesy egg loaf and declared "I don't like it," and put her portion on her mother's plate, before diving into her fruit salad.   We all sort of chuckled, but I also marveled.  How many times have you politely suffered through eating something you really didn't like?  Wouldn't be refreshing to just say, "I'm sorry; I don't care for this dish; guess it doesn't work with my palate, but I'd love to double up on salad!"  Wouldn't it be great if that honesty was accepted and not taken in offense?

Later, as we complemented my daughter-in-law for her fresh and tasty fruit salad,  our 8 y/o granddaughter quietly said, "I helped make it."  She sits next to me and I think I'm the only one who heard her,  so I thanked her for helping.  Conversation continued about the salad, when she said a little louder, "I washed all the fruit!"  And a couple others at the table thanked her.  Then she announced, "Nobody is thanking me for helping!"  Her dad pointed out that, yes, we did thank her, to which she replied, "But not Grandpa, or _____ or ______", calling out those she had not heard from.   They immediately thanked her, of course, as her parents admonished her for this moment of egotism.  But again, like with her sister's honesty, I was rather proud of her.  She didn't feel adequately recognized for her contribution.  Wouldn't it be nice if it was OK to ask for what we need emotionally?  To say, "I'm really needing some recognition right now; will you give me some kudos for how hard I've worked...for my contribution?"

Naturally we adults will socialize the abruptness out of both of the girls; it's part of learning and growing and operating in polite society, which is important.  But I hope we never socialize them to squelch their voices. I hope we don't teach them to just go along; to make them feel their needs are unimportant.  Giving voice to what's true for them just might result in adults who are honest; who know how to politely and assertively ask for what they need; to avoid resentments.  Wouldn't it be nice to communicate honestly and effectively and really be heard?

I think so.

At least, that's the view from here...©

TAKE ME TO CHURCH

Thinking about Jesus today.  I heard this song yesterday on the radio (Take Me to Church) and I love it so much.
https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=MYSVMgRr6pw

Then, early this morning I was surprised by....church!

Hub and I woke up to a rainy Easter morning today on Kauai.  I threw on a sundress and headed to the Terrace downstairs where breakfast is served to grab our mugs of free Kauai Coffee and pick up the newspaper  -- my morning routine.   But when I stepped off the elevator I was struck by a loud "rock" band playing something Jesus-y in the Courtyard.

I peeked 'round the corner to see nearly 200 people packed onto folding chairs at an Easter Sunrise Service.  I was greeted with a huge smile and an invitation to take a seat.  I demurred, but stood in the back, rapt with attention to this spectacle.  I watched as more and more people joined, as greeters hugged and shook hands, as the childrens' choir (preschool to teenagers) sang like angels.  The guest preacher, from Seattle!, gave a pretty standard Easter message befitting the Evangelical bent of this brand of Christianity, including the altar call to those ready to surrender their lives to Jesus.  (No takers on this Easter morning, but many likely had already done that judging by hands raised in the air during song and prayer.)  The pastor hammered home the God is Great message and assured everyone that no matter the harshness of life on earth, "the last will be first in Heaven" and "Jesus is with you!  God is waiting for you!"  This elicited some Amens and raised arms in praise of the Lord.  Everyone was smiling!  Some were crying.  The music swelled.  A local pastor stepped up to invite everyone who "wants more Jesus today!" to come to a 10:00 a.m. service at a local church with lunch served afterward -- featuring his own mother's Home Cooking!

I tell ya, I get it.  The showmanship and message of love and relief from suffering is an affecting one. I thought back to my Christian upbringing at first in the friendly Methodist church of my childhood, then the more austere brand of Protestantism of my Lutheran years after marrying into a conservative Lutheran family and being expected to become one of them.  Then we swerved left and attended a Congregationalist church for awhile, before finding Unitarian Universalism.  Easter Sunday was a favorite worship experience in all of those earlier Christian denominations.  What's not to like about petticoats, patent leather shoes, and Hallelujahs?

But "Take Me to Church" (partly about the Church's punishment of homosexuality) also reminds me of the hypocrisy, the judgements, the literal (and sort of made up) interpretations of the Bible and Jesus' teachings that turned me away from the Christian church.  When a certain brand of Christianity became intertwined with political conservatism I became judge-y too.  How could two diametrically opposed worldviews exist in one entity?  Feed the poor = cut food assistance.  Welcome the stranger = close our borders.   Care for the sick and vulnerable = gut healthcare.  Serve the poor = subsidize billion dollar corporations.

But this is Easter.  It is a time to reflect on a New Beginning.  Jesus was a new beginning in his time and I take his example as the meaning of this day.  Appropriated from the Pagan rituals of renewal and regrowth, fertility and abundance, Jesus is said to have risen from the dead.  (Maybe.  Jon Snow did it...Game of Thrones reference for the uninitiated; also a handsome guy, as all movie Jesus' are as well.)  If he did it then, I truly wish he'd come on back again now and take a look at what is being said and done in his name.  (I'd like his return to NOT be accompanied by that whole Rapture thing...messy.)  Maybe we'd find out this is exactly what he intended.  Or maybe he'd lead the Resistance, as he did in his day.

After Christian Church I joined Hub in practicing Qigong on the beach (Ancient Chinese ); I did today's Oprah/Deepak recorded meditation on Hope (Vedic tradition); I chanted along with my favorite Kirtan artists: Krishna Das, Jai Uttal, Gina Sala (Tantric, Vedic, Hindu); I watched Valerie Kaur on YouTube (Sihk).

And  I will hold the lessons of the Fierce and Gentle Jesus I believe he was, and try to be more like that.  My "religion" is eclectic and curious, finding the common Capital "L" Love (thanks for that, Gina) in each practice.  With this Love as guide,  I renew my urge to find the courage to resist wrongs,  to find gratitude in every day, to see the Divine in all, and to sing Hallelujah! for this gift of life.  May we all RISE UP in Love in service to the greater good.  Amen.

At least, that's the view from here.... ©

Photo Credit: A painting by R. (Richard) Hook

EASTER MUSINGS

Stiff petticoats and white patent leather shoes.  Starched hats and tiny flower-festoons purses.  Hidden Easter baskets and hollow chocolate bunnies.  Peeps.  Ham, with jello salad.  My dad in a suit -- a rare occasion -- for the annual Easter trip to the Methodist church.  Sunday School.  Easter Lilies.  Alleluia!  Sunshine.

These images have been floating through my mind all day as I have spent the past several hours of Easter Sunday alone at home.  Oh, I'm not feeling sad or morose.  My family will be here later for an indoor egg hunt on this gloomy and rainy Easter Sunday.  We will all sit down to a salmon and asparagus dinner.  There will be plenty of chocolate.

But it's not like it was.  And that's OK.  I just feel in a nostalgic mood since this Easter couldn't be more different than those of my childhood.

Today, all the men in my family were up before dawn to get to the mountain pass ski resort by 8:00 a.m. for our 6 year-old Angel's first snowboard lesson.  It is a special "kids day" with free gear and lessons all day long and a snow-bank egg hunt to boot!  She was at first hesitant, then excited, and I just saw a video of her on Facebook looking like a pro gliding down a gentle hill of snow with ski lifts in the background making me wonder if we might have another snowboard fanatic in the making.  (Hub would be so thrilled!)

My childhood Easter was not spent on any ski slope.   In my childhood in Northern Illinois, it was a day for my family and my aunt's family to gather at one home or another (my mother, in our small city, and her sister, in a tiny country town, traded off hosting holidays), having a meal and entertaining myself while the grown ups talked.  My older brother and boy cousin were 10 years older than I and both ignored me completely.  My younger brother 4 years younger was around, but not interested in dolls or coloring or fingering the fabrics my mom and aunt and grandma seemed to delight in sharing around, with patterns they planned to sew.  I was pretty much on my own.

I was a quiet girl, content with hanging on the fringes of adult conversation, playing games, dressing dolls, creating a rich inner fantasy life of stories and songs.  I imagine Easter was a day for all of that for me.  And really, that's a bit what I've been up to today.  Quietly planning my dinner menu, preparing food, setting the table, meditating, reading, sending a few emails, reading, writing this blog post....

Just waiting for my beautiful family to come through the door with tales of adventures and two little girls eager to find baskets of gifts and eggs.  Their memories of grandma's house will be different from mine.  But I hope they will recall them as fondly.

At least, that's the view from here....©