#sosmagic: For the Love of Writing

I’m joining an open community of writers over at Sharing Our Stories: Magic in a Blog. If you write (or want to write) just for the magic of it, consider this your invitation to join us.#sosmagic

#sosmagic:For the Love of Writing 

Recently, Ruth Ayres invited writers to consider, "What do you love about writing? What makes you want to open a post box? What makes you fill a notebook page? Do you write because of love, or is there another motivation?"

Ruth's question nudged me to consider my current writerly life. In a challenging and exhausting school year, what motivates me to spend each day writing?

Ruth's writing invitation reminded me of a recent podcast I listened to - an episode on NPR's Life Kit. Poet Maggie Smith, was interviewed about finding hope in difficult times. Towards the end of the podcast, Smith offered listeners three suggestions for how to keep moving forward. Her first step especially resonated with me:

"One thing that always helps me is making time each day, even if it's a little bit of time, to do something that makes me feel like me, life my core self, apart from whatever trouble or stress of whatever else is going on in my life. And so for me, that's writing."

Since I listened to Smith's words, this thought has been spooling in my mind. What can I do every day that makes me feel like me? 

Like Maggie Smith, writing makes me feel like me. Although I publicly share a small fraction of my writing, carving out a time for writing every day centers me. 

"Fill your paper with the breathings of your heart." 

William Wordsworth

I often fill my notebook with messy thoughts. Writing helps me sort through my myriad of issues using a healthy outlet. The act of writing calms me. Rereading my writing often reminds me how hard I am on myself. 

I love that writing helps me notice small moments.

I love that writing helps me practice gratitude.

I love that writing helps me show up as a more generous, kind person.

But mostly...I love that writing makes me feel like Trina.

What do you love about writing? 

Slice of Life Challenge: Cat Envy

"I am so jealous of the cats today. They have this wintering thing figured out," I remark.

"All I want to do is crawl back in bed," My teenage son replies. 

"Me too."

We both sigh. 

It's 7:30 on a chilly Wisconsin morning. The current temperature outside is -8 degrees Fahrenheit, not including the wind chill ranging from -20 to -30 degrees. I am freezing just thinking about getting into the car to head into school. 

My elderly cats have already burrowed in the fleece blanket on my queen bed. As usual, their bodies are nestled next to each other. Emma covers her petite face with her paws. I can distinctly hear Victor, my fourteen-year-old cranky domestic shorthair, loudly purring. As an over-active groomer, he has a soft, red sweater on to prevent him from further damaging his skin. My cats don't even pick up their heads as we turn off the lights and exit the bedroom. Their eyes are closed. Their tales are tucked in. They look so warm and comfortable. 

I yearn to crawl back into bed and snuggle in my warm covers, emerging when it is at least 20 degrees Fahrenheit outside. 

Instead, donned in wool socks, multiple layers of warm clothing, stocking hat and upcycled sweater mittens, I step outside to begin a new day.  

Looking to connect with a positive, supportive online community? 

Consider sharing a slice of your life with Two Writing Teachers. 

All writers are welcome!

#sosmagic:The Kindness of Neighbors

I’m joining an open community of writers over at Sharing Our Stories: Magic in a Blog. If you write (or want to write) just for the magic of it, consider this your invitation to join us.#sosmagic

                                                            #sosmagic:The Kindness of Neighbors

"Thank you so much," I said, my voice muffled by my scarf, winter hat, and hood. "I cannot tell you how much I appreciate this."

"No problem. It feels good to help someone else," my neighbor responded. 

On Thursday we were pounded with over six inches of heavy snow. As a single mom on a night when my kids were at their dad's house, the amount of snow that I needed to clear away was daunting. I had been working on shoveling my driveway. At that point I had been shoveling and sweating for forty-five minutes, and I was only about 1/3 of the way finished. 

"Thank you. Thank you. You will save me so much time," I said. 

He smiled, "I have had help from others at times, too. I am more than happy to help you out." He turned towards his blower.

"Wait..."

My neighbor faced me.

"I must confess. I feel a little guilty. I have a snow blower that a friend gave me last winter. It's been sitting in my garage because I am not sure how to use it. I am intimidated by mixing the oil and how to get it started. My friend mentioned that I can get a special kind of extension chord to make it easier to use. Seriously, I meant to try to get it figured out soon, but it just hasn't happened yet. I don't want to take advantage of your kindness." I looked sheepishly at my neighbor that I had only met once before.

My neighbor smiled again. "Ah! I can help you figure that out some time. Just ask." 

"That would be great."

He continued with his snow blower and finished clearing out my snowy sidewalks and apron. His thick mitten waved as he ventured back home.

My heart warmed with gratitude. Once again, I am humbled at how kind and generous people can be. 

Slice of Life Challenge: Navagating Change

Slice of Life Tuesday Challenge: Change 

To say that this has been a year of change would be an understatement. In this past year (not even considering COVID or distance learning), my life has looked radically different than in past years. Some major events included (but are not necessarily listed in order of importance):

• I moved out and rented a house. 
• I adjusted to longer periods of time on my own, without my children.
• I went through a divorce.
• I legally changed my last name.
• I started dating again.
• I rescued two older cats, who now live with me.
• I bought a house.

Looking back, it seems like every time I started getting a little bit comfortable with a new normal, some big change occurred. Some changes were positive and welcome. Yet, many changes were incredibly painful. I constantly felt paralyzed with fear and overcome with intense emotion. I wanted everything to be perfect, something so unattainable, even in the best of times. I wanted to hide any perceived weakness. Fellow readers, my life has felt really messy for most of this last year. All tangled in knots.

A few days ago I was journaling and suddenly realized that navagating change has been my constant this year. I reread some of my writing from this year with curiosity. It turns out that I learned a lot about myself. It turns out that I am stronger than I thought.  

Without a doubt, I will continue to navigate change this year. May I continue to learn from it and embrace it in the most positive way possible. 

Looking to connect with a positive, supportive online community? 

Consider sharing a slice of your life with Two Writing Teachers. 

All writers are welcome!

#sosmagic: Generous Gifts

I’m joining an open community of writers over at Sharing Our Stories: Magic in a Blog. If you write (or want to write) just for the magic of it, consider this your invitation to join us.#sosmagic

#sosmagic: Generous Gifts

In the midst of a divorce last fall, I moved out. Suddenly, I found myself in a new neighborhood, in an empty rental house without a whole lot of furniture or household items. I felt lost in every way possible. 

I had begun a new journey. It was a journey that was was one of the most terrifying and painful things that I had ever experienced but necessary.

Friends, family, and colleagues helped make this transition more bearable and gifted me with all kinds of unexpected blessings. Beyond listening to me and providing a constant emotional support system, I received all kinds of gifts including a house full of furniture, hand -made quilts, house plants, baking pans, silverware, glassware, sheet sets, bicycles, a vaccuum cleaner, tools, and even a gently used lawn mower and snow blower. I was so humbled by all that people shared with me.

Now there is not a room in my house where I am not surrounded by the reminder that people went out of their way to help me when I needed it the most. Evidence of love and support is scattered throughout my house. 

The rocking chair, braided rug, floor lamp, and plant were all items given to me.

I will forever be deeply touched at all of these gestures of love.

Yesterday, as I was thinking about Ruth's invitation to consider the magic of words, I realized that many of my favorite words are connected with generosity. As I played around with lists of words in my notebook, I came up with the following Haiku, a bit of a tribute to some lovely words and for my appreciation for all who shared such amazing gifts with me:

Generosity -/ 

gifts shared. Meaningful gestures./

Community love.   

#sosmagic: Unexpected Supervision

I’m joining an open community of writers over at Sharing Our Stories: Magic in a Blog. If you write (or want to write) just for the magic of it, consider this your invitation to join us.#sosmagic

#sosmagic: Unexpected Supervision 

"Can I ask you a favor?" 

I stopped mid-walk, startled by a request from a stranger. I was on my way to meet my neighbor, Dave, for an early evening walk. 

"Sure," I cautiously replied. A middle aged man with two children walked towards me. The man and older child were walking their bicycles. The youngest child stood next to a bike resting on the sidewalk.

"My daughter's breaks somehow jammed. She cannot ride anymore. I gotta get this bike home so I can fix it." He explained.

"That's too bad," I responded.

"I need to get her bike back home, so I need to go back home and grab my van. Can you watch her for a few moments?" He barely waited for my response. Instead, he hopped on his bike, the other child following him. A small girl, donned in a unicorn bike helmet and brown cowboy boots faced me. Part of her ponytail was dyed purple. 

"Wait. What's her name?" I asked.

"V."

"My name is Trina." She looked up at me and smiled a toothless grin. 

"She's a good kid and will be no problem." The man left on his bike. The other child trailed after him. 

"Wait - I'll wait with her on my neighbor's porch." I pointed to Dave's porch ahead of us. 

What just happened? I thought. Although I live in a relatively safe community and a tight-knit neighborhood, it's 2020. I couldn't believe that a man that I had never met before was leaving me with his young child. I had never seen this child before. How did I agree to this? When did I agree to this? Why wouldn't he have just left the bike and walked home with her? What if he didn't come back? Doesn't he realize that we're in the middle of a pandemic? Did he somehow know that I was a teacher? Do I just look that trusting? 

Since I wanted to make sure this child and I were in highly visible space, V. and I waited on the plastic lawn chairs on my neighbor Dave's porch. First I pointed out the mourning dove's nest; next, I showed her where Dave and I found a fallen egg on his sidewalk. While we waited I told V. the few knock-knock jokes I knew. After I asked her how old she was, V. volunteered all kinds of information - where she attended school, her teacher's name, what grade she was in, and where she lived (including her street name and address). 

Dear readers, although I found it bizarre that I found myself supervising this strange child, V. was an absolute joy to talk with. It was the best part of my day.

One snippet of our conversation went something like this:

V: It's almost my birthday!

Me: That's great! When is it?

V: At the end of May. I'm going to be 7 years old.

Me: Oh. That's exciting! 7 is big stuff.

V: Uh huh. 7 will be so great. After that comes 8 and then 9. Then 10! You can do anything when you are 10!

Me: 10 is pretty great. Double digits.

V.: No more kid stuff. Maybe I can even get an iPhone. 

Me: Yeah, I guess you are pretty old when you are 10. How will you celebrate your birthday?

V.: I don't know. Cupcakes. With frosting. And cake. With lots of ice cream.

Soon after the birthday chat, V.'s dad appeared in his mini van. 

"Thanks for watching V.!" The side door of the mini van opened, and V. scurried to her dad's van. 

"Bye! Take care of the baby birds!" V. yelled as the van door closed.

The black mini van drove off. 

I hope he doesn't leave his daughter with random strangers often. It was an unsettling thought. 

Bewildered yet a bit delighted, I knocked on Dave's door and we began our previously scheduled walk. 

#sosmagic: Grotto Gifts

I’m joining an open community of writers over at Sharing Our Stories: Magic in a Blog. If you write (or want to write) just for the magic of it, consider this your invitation to join us.#sosmagic

#sosmagic: Grotto Gifts 

"You're getting a bit too close," D. gently reminds me and outstretches his long arm to make half of a "T". I raise mine to do the same. He is right. I veered too close to him. Again. We aren't six feet away from each other anymore. Even though we're walking outside, even though both of us have been homebound for weeks, even though we have not been around many other people except for the occasional trip to the grocery store donning face masks, we do not have enough distance between us. I move over on the trail, hiking on the unpaved part. D. moves beyond the other edge of the path. 

After over a month, I am still not used to social distancing.

My neighbor and friend, D., lives alone. When my children are at their dad's house, I am solo, too. For days at a time, D. is often the only person I talk to, face-to-face (through a safe distance, of course).  

"Check out that perfect tree hole." D. points to a stunning tree hollow. I gaze at the tree cavity. Suddently, a bit of yellow catches my eye.

"D.! See that in the grotto?"

One of my favorite local trails includes a series of long-ago neglected, abandoned grottos. The grotto ahead hosts a surprise: a small piece of art made from natural objects. It's a collage of forest treasure, including a collection of handwritten uplifting words. 

D. and I stand in awe. He hangs back while I explore the grotto art first. 

"I love this so much," I gush, "Look at all of the words on the sticks. Hope. Breathe. Comfort. Calm. I adore how these words are incorporated with beauty of nature."

I stand back while D. explores.

There are a few paper words scattered on the group, perhaps disturbed from the day's breeze.

The word hope is printed on the piece of paper I pick up with my glove.

D. picks up the piece of paper with the word peace written on it. 

"Should we take the words from this spot?" I inquire. Suddenly, I look around to see if anyone else is nearby. Yet, we are alone. 

"Well, I could use some peace, " D. responds.

"I can always use more hope." I share.

"Perhaps whoever created this envisioned that people would be delighted and honored in finding these words?" I suggest, captivated with the thought that others are comforted like I am in discovering found words. 

D. nodds. 

I place the small yellow paper in my coat pocket.

We continue to walk, six feet between us, on our path.