Her Pool

We were back to the neighbors for for the first time this year, that inaugural dip and jump off the board! But I have to admit, I choked up when I walked across her grass. It wasn't the same knowing he wasn't there. My beloved neighbor has been gone now for about two months and that lump in my throat still remains.

She asked if I'd like a glass of wine. The children swim. She talked about how she has been doing. And now it's time to start coming back up. She said "I need to restore myself."

I told her that would sit on my heart for a while. To restore yourself. To come back to who you are. Or, in her case, a new version of her she never thought she had to be.

I admire her so.

The lump still remains. But the laughs and giggles were there. The diving board still has a good bounce. The gate still creeks. 

It's a new day. 

Oops

There has been a stretch since I last wrote. The coronavirus spread, the state was locked down further, things felt worse than better.

Life didn't seem to the accept restrictions in our local community and around the country.

And then a white officer kneeled on the neck of a black man during an arrest, prolonged with such racial bias, that he died. Coronavirus was forgotten momentarily and racism swelled.

There were riots in my city. There were riots around my country. The current leader of our nation did not unite but chose to divide. And tensions grew. And anger grew. And violence grew. It's been a rough couple of days for me. It's been decades of pain and suffering for those in the black community. I'm glad change is here. It needs to happen. I hope it stays. And grows. 

Two weeks ago we decided we needed a break. The kids needed a break, I needed a break, so did husband. We needed a change of scenery.

Upon telling our children that we would head to the north Georgia mountains, it only took five minutes for them to find blank paper and sketch out the interior of our van and the packing that they would do for the road trip. They love road trips as much as I do. Their adventuresome spirit is bucket filling. 

Yesterday, on the last day of school, instead of packing backpacks and taking pictures outside, we woke them quietly at 3:45 AM. We stuffed them into a fully packed van, and by the light of a full moon and just the creeping edges of dawn on its way, we headed south.

I took the first shift. There's something peaceful about driving at that time of day. No one is around, save a few semi drivers. The world is quiet. After the civil unrest of the last few days, I appreciated a quiet world. 

Upon arrival in a very small border town between Indiana and Ohio, we stopped for gas and to change drivers. I, grabbing the kids, headed inside, chucking the keys on the driver seat and shouted at my dear husband that's where they were as we crossed the parking lot. Five seconds later he shrieked. Somehow, oddly, all four doors were locked.

And yes, the keys were inside.

He looked at me with panic, I shrieked back with panic. Both of us trying not to blame the other but wondering how a completely unlocked vehicle had now four locked doors and no keys.

I thought about ripping a back window off, my mind raced, and for some reason I yanked on the back tailgate.

The darn thing opened.

It opened!!!

Shrieks now came from our children plastered against the side of the truckstop for fear that their parents were about ready to lose their bologna. And they came running across the parking lot. Little KK crawl through the back over the luggage, delicately avoiding breakable items on the floor and unlocked the door to save the day.

Bubba commented that he, volunteering as tribute, would be staying in the car for the rest of the trip. We assured him that we would have better practices in place. 7 AM Friday morning, middle of nowhere, crisis averted.

Joy still comes in the morning. 

For now, fresh off the lake, resting as the summer sun begins to warm the north Georgia mountains enough that my delicate flower of children find it too hot, I'm right at home. My BFF is around the corner.

Social emotional health, mental health, soul healing health… Call it what you will, we found it.

I'll take it. 

Lysol

Did the manufacturer of Lysol just come out and say "wait, please don't inject yourself with our products?"

Yes, yes they did.

Because a situation in Washington warranted their "hang on wait a minute" post.

Which led someone I know to post "oh, that's not really true" followed by someone else using vitriol that I haven't seen for a while.

And when I say "a while" - take that to mean 3 or 4 days. The opinions coming from some people are not only passionate discourses on their beliefs (I like those), but they are riddled with anger, fear, frustration - and I daresay, hate. The hate-speech I've seen has been overwhelming. These posts are also coming fast and furious on social media - causing me to take a break from scrolling, stopping only to slap up my Gratitude Journal post.

I don't want nor need life to go back to exactly the way it was. So much of society and our earth needs subtle or gigantic course corrections.

But civility and compassion would be nice if it could come back in spades.

And a sweeping dose of common sense.

So, therefore, have no fear, I will only use Lysol to clean my counters. Not my veins.

Life Moves On

When I get earworms, they stick for days.

The line of a song that rolls over and over in my head - the scene from a movie that just won't leave my thoughts.

Currently, it's the scene from the movie Steel Magnolias - easily one of my favorite movies ever. The group of women has come together at the funeral of the daughter. Sally Field says she's fine and then she breaks. She just wants her daughter back.

183 viewings of that and I still tear up.

Olympia Dukakis chimes in with some humor at the expense of Shirley McLaine and the group laughs for a moment. The scene cuts - they are at the wake in a neighborhood backyard. Darryl Hannah plays with a baby on a blanket - and is asked what she will name her own baby when the time comes. She acknowledges that she wants to name it after the deceased - the mother replies lovingly and states "life moves on."

She doesn't forget her daughter. She doesn't skip that she's gone. But somewhere in her heart, life has to continue to take steps forward.

Even in the middle of a pandemic - when the world seems to have stopped. Or significantly slowed.

Life moves on.

Every time I look out my kitchen window - or sit on my comfy couch - or prep myself for bed, I see my beloved neighbor's house. I see his chair in the backyard where he would review his day with his wife with a glass of wine - watching the frogs in his pond.

I miss him.

The grass is growing - it needs to be cut.

Hubs and Bubs need haircuts, too.

My bleeding hearts are popping up, the beds need to be blown out again. I've got to track down the deer spray and attach the hoses.

Someone has to finish long division - someone else has to write a paper on igloos versus treehouses. I should really get to stripping the bathtub. It's been on my list for 2 years. The stuff is even in the bathroom.

Life moves on.

"God of Glory, majesty. Praise forever to the King of Kings...."

Joy Comes in the Morning

In the end, the miracle did not come.

My beloved neighbor met Jesus Friday night. In an attempt to keep my rhythm on my gratitude journal on Facebook and Instagram, I wrote the following yesterday:

Gratitude Journal Day 37 - my neighbors. But today, especially this house. 💚
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For a person like me who always has All. The. Words. Today, I have none. I had teased a week ago I had excellent news to share. My beloved neighbor was coming home from the hospital. Signs were made. Plans were hatched. But, by Easter morning, as I celebrated the risen Lord, my high-fiving, ever-smiling, wave to me over the fence, never too early for happy hour, wander the yard with me, Spartan buddy, suffered a cardiac event and our idyllic neighborhood hamlet came crashing down. By last night, he was gone.

I can’t tell you how much I admired this man. It was pure luck that we have been able to share a property line with him and his amazing wife. From the day we moved the first item in- to my last memory of him scurrying through my backyard in his trademark shorts, having just dropped off wine and banana bread (see Day 10)- and every day in between - you don’t find better neighbors than these.

We have been so insanely blessed.

To his three children (and the bonus in-laws), 3 grand babies- we promise to watch over your momma. We love her with fierce abandon.

And to my beloved neighbor- love you forever. Like you for always. Will miss you like crazy. Go Green. 💚💚💚

I placed my phone back down.

I went outside, I heard his granddaughter cooing on the backyard deck. I saw his wife - we talked over the fence - she modeled bravery. I wiped tears as I smiled my love in return.

Hubs and I went inside and FaceTimed my cousin and wife to talk about anything and everything. Just to think about something else. Inevitably, since he's a doctor, the conversation turned to spikes and numbers and ventilators and personal protection equipment. PPE. I didn't even know that acronym until a few weeks ago.

I sat with my children - we watched a silly movie, we went for a walk. We had copious amounts of snuggles.

I went to bed for the first time in four days and didn't cry myself to sleep, willing him to come back.

I awoke today to sunshine and warmer temperatures.

Joy comes in the morning.

Grief sucks. This virus sucks.

I want my friend back.

And joy still comes in the morning.

On Optimism

My beloved neighbor has taken a turn.

He bled into his stomach, causing his heart to stop for a bit - and reduced the oxygen to his brain. The MRI for activity is scheduled for tonight.

I'm numb.

He was up...out of the ICU last week. Having heard the applause of the unit upon leaving it - he was eating macaroni and cheese - he FaceTimed his wife.

And now we wait. Again. For another test.

He's a fighter - but how much fight does he have left?

We will pray as a family - I will ruminate and ponder and wonder and worry.

But I will not give in to fear or the darkness that is just outside my door.

I watched Steve Hartman's On the Road: Kindness 101 series this afternoon just after learning the news. It's on optimism.

Has God made me this way for a reason? Looking for the bright side of life at every turn?

I sure hope so.

Easter Sunday

Not as it was in my books to be -

Not that I had planned for -

Not what I knew how to execute -

But....four pairs of feet on a coffee table, while in pajamas, eating Resurrection Rolls (those crescent rolls stuffed with a marshmallow that disappears) watching our pastor from his home talk to us in ours.

No rushing around.

Calm and centered.

Eating rolls I never get a chance to make because I'm too crazy trying to get the perfect picture of kids in outfits that are pressed and laundered.

It was a departure from the normal. And so many news outlets are saying that during this time, take pause to note the frantic life - and choose purposefully what pace to resume when the time comes.

Good advice.