Fading summer

Our family is coming off the joyful stress of planning a family reunion, A.'s side, where each family takes their turn. This year was ours. We'd been planning since October. Given five elders' deaths in less than two years, it was an opportunity to celebrate connection in the moment. 

When we returned to northern Virginia, I noticed that one plant by our front door in particular
had grown so much in nine days -- creeping along the concrete step. And the native tree we planted in memory of our loved ones has started to flower. 

And today, our teen daughter turns fourteen years young. We are deep in the throes of teendom. August just began, and yet it feels like it's wrapping up at the same time. 

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how do we say no to the rush,
no to the push to put on our best face,
no to the chase of the material rat race

how do we say yes to penning that poesy
that stirs in our hearts, 
yes to crooning the melody that allows us 
to yearn and breathe in the moment

sometimes the summer storm
takes over our minds
but what if, just what if, 
we take the time to taste the flavor
of the fading summer
the peanutbutter frozen custard
on the boardwalk, 
how the Jersey Shore's waves
crash against our bodies,
how we have delighted in an eight-hour day 
together on the sand
how in being intentional with our time
we have reconnected in love
grateful to be family

Summer Mother Sun

We visited a short while for Father's Day weekend last month, had the chance to bring our moms together and celebrate our 21st wedding anniversary, 23 years together. No more Chart House, we delighted in a lovely lunch at Liberty House. Our moms are in their eighties, and with every visit, they move a little more slowly than last. Truly a gift to spend time with our moms and have them connect with each other too.

the sun radiates
she shines and embraces
everyone and everywhere

she does not distinguish
between white and brown
she provides light to all

she is hope that believes 
in joyful connection
families along the shore
children splash and thrash in the pool

the sun kisses every forehead,
every cheek,
every shoulder

every day, the sun wakes
and shares her beams
gives source 
to every living and just being

Grieving through the heaviness

The world is heavy, and so is my heart. A couple of weeks ago, I took a quick train ride up to Connecticut to check on our family elders, including my mom, auntie and uncle. My cousins flew in from California and Georgia. Uncle was supposed to have a simple medical procedure, but taking him off his blood thinnners puts him at high risk for stroke. Grateful our visit was not due to crisis because those kinds of visits seem more frequent in this phase of life. As the daughters and sons of aging parents, with every visit, we observe that our parents are walking a little slower, and their short term memory is a little more challenged. Discussions around plans to put into action when the time comes are stressful. I have to laugh until I cry my way through the weight and urgency of the future that feels like, is here now. So much laughing. 

And on top of that? Being the springboard and repository for my teenager's rollercoaster emotions, sometimes hormonal. Constantly reminding myself that her prefrontal cortex is still developing. Sometimes in the loneliness of the car while I scream, sometimes in the early morning waking as my mind races with worry and frustration as I work to calm myself in morning meditation. Grateful that we are learning to have those hard conversations. 

Not to mention all that is destroying humanity in our country as I try to disengage from the news. I have one good friend protesting the concentration camps just 15 minutes from where she lives and a cousin on duty 24/7 advocating for immigrants' rights while I try to do my share in my small corner of the world supporting volunteers and agencies that serve the food insecure or unhoused, those formerly detained and trying to make a new lives for themselves. 

Still, we try to sell to our kids that there is goodness in the world, just not Stateside, not this government at this moment. But in the people working hard to make good trouble. 

How do we find the strength and resilience to keep caring?