Sandwiched

My mom turns 84 at the end of the year, and she is fiercely independent. She fell last month, her entire left arm in a cast, the same wrist she broke years ago in a bad fall while on vacation in Aruba. This time, she fell while out and about getting a haircut at her favorite salon on West Side Avenue (JC). Thankfully the folks who rent the second floor in her two-family home are like family. Grateful that my godsister lives across the street, and our Filipino neighbors are caring. I am not sure how much longer my mom can live alone. Reserved, she has her routine of her daily walks in the park and Filipino teleserias keep her company along with the feral cats whom she feeds outside her garage. But they bring unwanted guests - mice. 

And we have a fourteen-year-old daughter. Raising a teen in this era of constant anxiety, pressure, and screens has its own challenges. Not to mention my partner's own apprehension around his career, organizational board tensions and the impact of AI. Or the fact that his fully remote position keeps his already introverted self isolated. 

Yesterday was the 25th anniversary of 9.11. I completely lost it at a memorial service, holding it in all week as my circles and I checked in with each other, reflecting on our shared journeys of that dreadful day. I remember my morning ritual of making sure that I read each New York Times obituary of every person who perished. Oh that mourning ritual seemed to last forever. 

--
this saturday morning
alone in the kitchen
in the lull and hum of the fridge
and the september breeze
cicadas rattle 
i will quaff my sorrow
and sip my iced cold brew
sprinkled with cinnamon and cayenne
like life phases and their layered complexities
i sit and know
these feelings will pass
breathe in calm
breathe out worry
breathe in peace

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. 

-----
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? 

Pious Angel

Sadly, my mother-in-law has lost four siblings and her husband in less than two years. Most recently, A.'s beloved Tita Lita died. He has shared many affectionate stories of her by his side as a young boy growing up in the Philippines as well as in his adulthood, her wisdom in finding a life partner. I am deeply grateful to have had many occasions to just sit and visit with her and chat about Life. Also thankful that N. will always have the memory of enjoying breakfasts and 'real bacon' with Lola Lita. 

In loving memory of Angelita Branam
b. 7.2.44 - d. 4.25.26

stories relayed to me of a most devout angel's
comforting presence --
tita who served a soothing force in his times of loneliness
guidance --
tita who offered warmth and protection
healing love --
tita who ferried peace to his broken heart
her mighty faithfulness and resilience
an angel's grace so soft and light
his guardian Tita Angelita

Easter tending

tending to myself

in the season of renewal
a 7.2mile run
around the circles of America's Athens
-- Westgate
-- Church
-- State Capital
on the hallowed grounds of St. John's 
tending to ourselves
on the river Severn
retreat on the water
so that we may feel refreshed
amidst the baroque byways of Annapolis

Sprouting spring

behind the curtain, life can be messy
you too? yes, me too
life can be hard, the world is mad . . .
how much more wonderful would it be
if we leaned into each other
embraced each other 
tightly, lovingly
especially when we need to
especially when it feels difficult
especially when circumstances exhaust us,
and we can be in our truth

Today is my peaceful day

So far this winter season, we've had a week off of school due to an ice storm. Today's another snow day, mostly slush. Grateful for the chance to take a much needed long walk with the dog and time to process another family death because that is the stage of life we're in, amidst celebrity passings too. Like everyone else, I took to a box of tissues to view Eric Dane's 'Last Words.' As he looked into the camera and intimately shared with his girls, I tried. Absolutely heart-wrenching. Reminded me so much of my last few weeks with my Dad before he passed peacefully at home almost eighteen years ago. His last words to me included, Was I a good father?

Auntie Nita Torqueza, my Dad's first cousin in California, recently died. Their moms were sisters. The Torqueza family lived in Jersey City before settling on the West Coast. I have strong memories of playing with my cousins -- Rowena, Rosalie, Rosanne and Regina. Because I grew up alone, their departure from New Jersey had a deep impact on me. Perhaps I inherited my Dad's sensitivity and connection to others. I have been participating in Auntie Nita's nine-day prayer novena and am mindful of the close family bond my Dad had with his first cousins, living together during their college years in the Philippines, along with buddyihng it up with his cousins' husbands, all from the same province of Narvacan, Ilocos Sur. I strive to keep those connections with family that my Dad so delighted in. He never missed holiday phone calls to California, Chicago and the Philippines. Long gone are the times of handwritten letters, he keyed in on his turquoise typewriter, but first wrote his letters on legal pads.

w

Grateful for this afternoon's winter walk . . .

from the woodspath
i listen intently to the winter wind
whooshing, slush dripping
from the trees
today amidst the weight of the 
winter's wet snow 
i glimpse our neighborhood fox
he lurks about
like memories
their tenderness creeps
into my heart
as i view them
in my mind's eye
i think
despite the gravity of heartache
i can breathe and resolve
to make today
my peaceful day

May peace ripple everywhere

I have been a mindfulness practitioner for some time, including day-long retreats of guided meditation, movement and eating in silence. I would never claim to be an expert, just someone who tries . . . everyday. What a gift it is to remember our breath and be in the present as much as possible. Easier said than done in a culture that subscribes to media scrolling or overachievement even before your child is out of the womb.

I have been following the monks since October and their Walk for Peace from Texas to DC. I have been listening intently to their evening talks of mindfulness. Deeply grateful that I had the opportunity to be in their presence this early morning. I could barely sleep last night excited to visit with them! And it was well worth the wait. 

I recall from my day-long retreats the importance of a simple slightest smile, eye contact, silent communication. Just like my previous teachers who were students of Thich Nhat Hanh, each of the monks offers his attentive light, gaze and stillness. The ability to convey loving compassion and kindess that way is so valuable, especially in a world mad with all kinds of negativity. Grateful to the monks who make it their life's work to share their discipline of mindful breathing and being in the moment. 

Please let me pay it forward to you. Give yourself permission to find a quiet corner and may you find a moment to breathe in, breathe out, and be filled with loving kindness, be well, be peaceful and at ease, and be happy.

We need this fiercely warm reminder. Our country and our world need this. Now more than ever. 

Recovery

We have a tradition in our family. We keep a gratitude jar, and through the year, each of us writes moments for which we are thankful. On New Year's Eve, we open each other's slips of paper, reflect and share them. This past New Year's, A. & N. pointed out that two thirds of mine were about my work. Last week, I had the opportunity to witness how amazingly church volunteers and community agencies' staff partner to prevent hypothermia. 

--

recovery is exhausting
holiday pressures, family dynamics
and disappointment
everyday recovery
from the political antics of instability
and at the same time
recovery from the mood swings of a teen
while raising her
amidst global chaos,
our own fears and frustrations

do we not long to fill the space
with compassion
that will fight against wrongdoing? 

i devotedly follow the monks who walk for peace
and hope to get a glimpse
when they come through, to be in their presence

i make room under God's roof
for grace and humanity to meet me
in the eyes of strangers
who sleep on floor mats 
to avoid the bitter freeze
and in their eyes
i see social justice revolutionaries
some of whom are employed
yet unable to afford rent
some of whom are veterans
yet cast away by their government
some of whom speak 
more than one language and have families
yet unable to connect with loved ones

they are of every race and walk the streets
hungry. and cold. more than a bad break. 

maybe together
we can take a communal breath
and promise to take care of each other
maybe together
we can  take up space and draw closer
we can welcome grace, 
we can look deeply into each other's eyes
and we can honor each other's humanity