Then there was the daily dancing for no reason at all. It didn’t matter if things were going well, or the world was crashing down around their ears, they danced together through it all.
I saw firsthand how dancing can instantly change the energy in any situation, shake off stress, tears to laughter, mundane to magic, grumpiness into giggles…
He’s full of wisdom I still live by:
Count your cookies, not your problems.
Early bird gets the worm. But cookie tastes better than the worm. So let me sleep in.
No cry because a cookie is finished. Smile because cookie happened.
Home is where the heart is. The heart where the cookie is. Math clear: Home is the cookie.
The truth of my life is… without cookies I too am just a monster.
If there exists a land of windswept fairy tales, Skye is it. It feels like you are on the edge of the world. Fog curls around the mountains like gray cotton candy arms wrapping the hills in a hug, pink wildflowers dangle like bells, old stone bridges arch over rushing rivers, the kinds of stone bridges where ancient legends are made, legends of fairies and magical creatures who dance on the bridges at night, bridges from this world to the other world, the magic world.
We walked around the Rosslyn Chapel with our heads tilted back, looking at the stunning scrollwork, and listened to the stories of murder, treasure, goddess symbology and pagan worship mixed with ancient Egypt, freemasons, Christianity, Jewish stars, and so much more …
Everyone seems to love neutral colors: gray, beige, off-white… but for me, neutral colors turn me into Eeyore. I feel sleepy and sad. My color tastes are more aligned with Tigger, and when I say Tigger, I mean Tigger sent bouncing into a room with a gallon of pink paint in one paw and a gallon of glitter in the other.
But is there a happy medium? What works best for kids? What enhances their learning, enriches their brain, and soothes their soul?
Then I thought, I wonder if Anger Gardening is a form of therapy?
If it’s not, it should be. It’s dazzling in its wildness and simplicity. I watered my soul garden with my tears and my rage, then lifted my face to the rain and felt my soul bloom into a thousand blossoms lit by fireflies.
They’re just little bearded guys, but they are the keepers of the flame. They remind me that no matter how dark and treacherous a storm may seem, no matter how thick the fog of grief around me, when I don’t know which way to turn, I just need to keep my eyes open, watching for the light that will guide me home.
Do you remember the “Wake-Up Fairy” who came around after nap time in Kindergarten to touch us gently on the head, signaling us it was time to wake up?
It always takes me by surprise when Mother’s Day rolls around and I feel melancholy. I love being a Mom, but as a daughter, I feel sad.
I want my Mom back.
