where are you with lutye
starting a new adventure
moving forward
bringing the past
dreaming of the future
cambridge ma 08.27.15
last night at my last night for a while with my son and son-in-law. the not quite full moon shining softly and luminous, the lights of fenway bright, bright. i woke up this morn, a brand new day. within the hour i am off. given a new beginning. the sun is blinding. soft blues with gray shading in sky. a wide embrace. a good day for flying. good hot freshly brewed coffee with Benson and Dan, good to be awake. i do not want to be miss this day. soaring.
08.28.15
Eating my way through Portland, one brunch at a time.
portland or 10.02.15
navigating around coffee shops in Portland has been a cinch, getting back to website has been like being lost on a path.
up in the sky flying here i saw cloud after cloud that looked like stepping stones. the sky was full of these, my being was soaring, hop, skip and jumping.
on ground now but flying high being here.
10.05.15
well, here am i. well. alive. after two close calls this week. counting the fall down the mountain. three. i like the idea of three. runs in three. i have mine.
on tuesday while crossing the pedestrian walkway on busy street, with the go ahead from the flashing walk sign, a red car is coming for me. i stepped back knowing i could not get of the way of the speeding bullet. no question i was going to fly over the hood. i was trying to figure how i would position myself for the flight. not to heaven but the movie effect of the tumble. it was going to be a pain. ah, she stopped in nick of slowmotion time.
two days later, on the next block i boarded a bus, sat down and on my way. i thought. looking out window before the bus had left the stop, i see a white car within feet aiming straight at the bus. kabam. is that the word? for sure it seemed, with bus getting full force. all safe. including the driver of white car, it's front end crushed. to all's disbelief, this driver found the whole episode most amusing. no one else was laughing. she must have been on happy juice.
a lucky week for me. this week vivid and close up and too personal.
the fall down the mountain when i felt me heart stopped, seems to pale. the emergency room a blast. my daughter at my side i survived. and then this week threes have come and gone. so lucky.
10.16.15
the realization this morning that the big adventure begins each day, with the awakening of seeing an apricot pink rose bud beginning its bloom. outside kitchen window. that is what this new life is about. i keep thinkig that i need to prepare for the next trail ahead, and the one after. this one that i am on, is one that i have been before. not here and now, but its appreciation. i must not forget each day. wherever i go, it is still me. i am my baggage. or steamer trunk. or the black duffel like quilted bag i use all the time, in order for my hands to be free.
my feet and hands freely moving to what lies ahead. rewalking old paths already taken. the past never far.
with my grandsons this luxurious gift, being with them, their growing years, rememberiong their cousins, and my little ones now grown. our growing years, we are all there. or should be, i might need to catch up. growing and learning. techno skills plodding along.
by chance while walking home with my eight year old grandson from his school, the mood was contagiously out of sorts. we had just left the school grounds and traversing down the alley. this pathway between craftsmen homes, bee boxes in one yard, flowering roses in others, a scarecrow peeking from behind fence. our usual route of animated conversations observing and reflecting on the day. or sometimes being quiet listening. this day the mood was a downer, gloom and glub, he and i, not getting better. i stopped walking and said we have to turn around. he questioned why. going back to school. no. turn around. face the way we had come. we needed to start over. we faced direction of the school almost a block away, where we had started. with no other powers other than waving arms in the air, chanting gibberishess. confusing my grandson. i said now turn around and let us start over. on the right foot. what. yes. together. we both stretched out our right foot. then our left. then right. and turned our conversation around to a most peculiar interesting mushroom at edge of sidewalk, the only thing i saw to absorb our attention. us both. it worked. we were on the right foot. beginning anew. i have done the same thing twice now with grandsons when the direction was getting stormy with chance of meatballs. most peculiar imagery. still. turning around. right foot out. then left. then right. i must remember to do same for myself when thoughts are clouding the day. start over. turn around. of course some days i will need to do a hop. a skip. and a flying leap.
11.10.15
on the run, not from the law. late because of delayed bus. instead. walked 30 blocks out of breath. i was going to miss the event. determined to attend author's book reading. no question i would arrive as all were leaving. getting closer. seeing a traffic light, hoping it would stay green. no luck. it turned red. stopped in my tracks, my pace from singleminded purpose, to frustration. i was not to be defeated. there was a reason for my further delay. not the red light, the sunset. the most gorgeous imaginable.
stopping for a red light and pausing in wonder, a sunset almost missed. in my rush, for an event i thought i would miss. ha. life. the sunset was an awakening, not the end of the day.
getting to event 40 minutes late, no problem. the author had not run out of steam. interestingly he was talking about surviving. perservence. connecting.
stopping for the red light.
looking past the light and seeing, really seeing the sunset, almost missed. this wonder. arriving, author still at podium. whew. great satifaction. i had made it. not given up. that would have been a waste.
i got his book, met the author. saw the sunset. red light did not defeat me. it was good.
10.17.15
stopping. elementary school crossing guard,
taking care. students cross safely. stopping.
no matter what, traffic comes to a halt.
more imporant things. life. i need elsewhere along
my paths. halt. walk safely. not rush willy nilly. not sure about word. though i do like word random.
make it a purposefully willy nilly. appreciaing life. halting. focusing. seeing.
in this case stopping. the school patrol.
for the best
in life. my grandson griffin with a smile.
portland or 10.17.15
on the precipice. taking a leap. what. one says. could drive one to the edge. composing a note to oneself, heralding the day. writing. having not uttered a written word since thoughts from 10.17.15. yes, uttered the written. those sometimes ring loud and clear. do you hear the ding dong. uttered or on paper i challange myelf. wishing left unsaid. not saying the words intended. ding dong,
then in lush earth friendly portland. being real with grandsons, making their parents look really good, when the 8 and 10 year old contend with their mother's mother. looking back according to their mom, remembering the good times. if only that would be so, in life, focus on the love, seeing the love, not carrying hurts and dumbness close to the breast, as though life a card game. the laughter and high jinx, being there in family's day, not to be forgotten. Blessed being with ones i love, catching up in the every day. even in the church one autumn eve. during piano practice, brother attentive and atuned with teacher. the other delightful brother weaving surreptitiously in out under through the church pews. the charge of the light brigade tactics. so very enterprising and funny upon reflection. at the time i wondered how do i corral this pleased fellow. was i to get down on all fours in an attempting corral of my dear loved bright kind and funny grandson. childhood. honest. spontanteous. learning. exploring. thriving. what a gift for my grandsons to have parents who see and hear and feel. knowing boys are tasting sweet boyhood and rollicking in the process.
what you say today causes my lamentng my woe, when i am alive. with family. driving them crazy. reminding my loves what they have survived. having me as their mother. or mother in law, or the granny who adores them, challenging them for the best without crossing the boundary, the interfering. all good thoughts. living them. the goal.
what can be horrible when a life of being alive, and taking in whiffs of woodsmoke warming the hearths, the crisp air. the welcoming sunshine or the relentless rain that i love. so i shall shed my crocodile weeping and admit the foolishness. the helpless sense of losing my earlier text, after so long in not writing. it was at the end of pen to paper with my first missive after so many days passing. what happened. i do not know. inadvertently hitting the wrong key. poof. all gone. no more text. trivial, isn't it. more to life than lost possessions, even if words. actualy there were no tears, just shaking my head. not laughing though i should,
so i sit, write, still challenged with my laptop. not a lot things have i mastered. i go on. others do. one text lost, another written. flowers within my arm's length. given to me by my heartful granddaughter. tulips cuddled in glorious reds, tiptoped in sunshine yellow. green stalks in whimsy. my heart day feasted with deliciousness and movie watching with family. this and seeing photo of grandsons serious in their focus at comic book store. all for one, one for all taking moments in appreciation. forget lost texts. start anew.
lake acworth 02,15.16
back. did i really go. have i soared.
i'm here. i went. step after step, mostly vertical, i could not have been flying higher.
the journey. the adventure. life. still going. not ending. beginning. day after day.
cambridge ma 06.10.16