Farewell

Jet joined our little family in June, 2015. 

"My youngest opened the door and this little black kitty immediately started loving her. Then me. He snuggled. He purred a quiet but steady little purr. And he drooled. There was no going back. "Jet" had found the family he wanted to go home with."

Jet's story is interwoven into the context of this blog in a manner that encompasses who he was to us in every way. His antics, his personality, his quirks, his neediness and intense curiosity.

When I made the move to my Little Oasis here just over a year ago, my daughter took over the care of our home and cat dependents. Two senior cats who came with a diverse and complex set of unique-to-them health challenges. 

To be loved by my daughter is to be loved without condition. She has taken these cats to the vet time, time and time again. Then some more. She did and has done everything in her power to make our cats comfortable. What medicine didn't heal, my daughter's love and devotion soothed.

Jet had a "mystery intestinal irritation" which resulted in litter box issues that preceded my move out and away from cat-responsibilities. We had investigated and tried everything. No stone was left unturned. In the end steroids bought Jet as much time as he could endure comfortably. 

Two weeks ago, the time to let him go had come.

Loss is not easy. Letting go is hard. Being held, comforted, in the presence of loved ones, consoling voices and tones in the end is the best one can hope for. 

As my daughter described Jet's last days and moments, I couldn't imagine a more loving farewell to our beloved Jet.

Jet was loved to the end and beyond. He was a good cat.

The Bald Eagle

I am settling back into life-as-I-know-it after a short weekend excursion. I drove so far out of my comfort zone I felt like I was in a different country. 

I do not enjoy roads less travelled. I like my well worn, divided highway with familiar cities and towns along the way. I like arriving into a city where I know my way around. I favor staying at AirBnB's over most every option out there (including free accommodations at a family or friend's home). 

I like what I like and most of what I like is familiarity.

This past weekend was anything but familiar. I got into an argument with Google Maps because she kept trying to change the route I had specifically chosen while I was not driving. I think she heard me because when I attempted to reroute my destination to a gas station where I could cash in my airmiles, she circled me back to my son's house and he wasn't home.

Exasperated, I gave up and asked my son if we could take my car for supper so I could fill it up and wash the bugs off before they baked onto the windshield in the heat.

I went from arguing with Google Maps to high anxiety with someone else behind the wheel of my car. I was not off to a good start.

Then came the new Techno Toilet my son purchased after the isolation valve on his original toilet failed, causing a flood in his downstairs basement suite. Repairs and restoration from the flood were a test of endurance but he didn't tell me about his newest acquisition. A toilet that does pretty much everything but brush your teeth.

I cannot express my angst over using a toilet that beeps and chirps and has a mind of its own. It came with a remote control. Enough said.

We visited until the wee hours of the morning and the next day included a leisurely trip to the mountains, a few easy hikes and meeting up with my sister-in-law for supper. Okay! This is right up my alley.

Long story, short? The next day was nothing like I envisioned. 

I was a very nervous and agitated passenger on our trek into the mountains. Mountains are not a favored destination of mine but I can endure them. The twisty, curvy mountain roads to some of our destinations were exceeding my comfort and car sickness zone. My son's definition of an easy hike is quite different than mine. I could not savor the hiking experience due to my apprehension over losing my footing resulting in a trip and fall, wrecking the only pair of pants that fit me comfortably, let alone the thought of twisting an ankle and having to walk back as far as we had trekked in.

I'm quite sure I was wearing "all of the above" on the expression on my face. All we had to do was get back to where we began. That was the goal. 

My son offered many "rest stops" along the way. I really didn't need or want to rest. I simply wanted to get back home. I was not savoring the views along the way. I was watching where my feet were stepping to avoid any trip and falls (saving the knees of my pants was my priority).

Oh, the self talk I had going on in my head. I should be embarrassed. Instead, I was just getting on a roll and it got worse before it got better. 

It was at one of these stopping points when a bald eagle flew right up to us and over our heads in a blatant "Look up and see me!!" kind of way. Even my son, who is no stranger to mountains and all he finds awe inspiring about them, was in awe. 

It was a moment to behold. 

We were on our mother-son-trek on the 8th anniversary of Mom's last day here on earth. This is not a day Mom would want to focus on but it just so happened our weekend together landed on this date in history.

The song "An Eagle When She Flies" had special meaning to Mom. We played it at her graveside. The song described the person Mom was. We have placed a connection between Mom and eagles. We spread some of Mom's ashes at Mom & Dad's old farm. The family who were last to leave, spotted two eagles soaring above the farm as a memory filled day wound to a close. 

I have never seen an eagle. Even when I went on an Alaskan cruise and bald eagles were pointed out to us in the trees. "They look like little golf balls..." I couldn't find them hidden in the scene.

But this bald eagle was blatant and obvious. It flew up and over us in a manner that said, "Look at me! I am here!"

Mom? If she had any way to say "Look up and out of your thoughts" to me, she would have.

My son was giving me a gift of a lifetime. Taking me, showing me, experiencing the wonders of  his world. And I couldn't see beyond the negative thought spiral I was in.

I have been home two days now and I can finally appreciate the weekend. I can hear Mom's voice in my head admonishing me for not seeing the experience for what it was while I was living it. 

I hear you, Mom. 

I also hear her say she is in full agreement about the driving though ...

Body, Heal Thyself

I have marvelled on many occasions how this vessel I live in (my body) has the ability to recover from a myriad of things on its own. With little or no outside intervention, it rights itself and maintains its equilibrium. Much like how a cat lands on its feet.

I have been wandering through my days feeling a little bit "powder bluish". Not a deep, dark blue mood. Not even a regular "blue" feeling. Just a little bit of a faded blue. I recognize the state and know from past experiences that life has natural ebbs and flows. As I was getting frustrated with myself for my inability to snap out of it, I thought of the "snap out of it" scene from Moonstruck, chuckled a little and I was cured (until next time).

I rarely feel sick but when I recently had a bout with a stomach ailment which grounded me for a day, I slept it off, recouped, recovered and moved on. No intervention required.

A sunburnt face which peeled, peeled and peeled some more. It took a while but my skin has stopped shedding and I'm back to my normal skin tone. No matter how much I tried to moisturize and ease my way through this minor dilemma, my body healed in its own time, in its own way.

Each time I catch my body in a heal and recover mode, I look upward and utter "thank you". Every time I climb out of the other side of the doldrums, I am grateful. Any time I notice my body taking care of me and doing its level best to recover, I am appreciative.

A few nights ago, I took a 3 mile walk. Nothing strenuous, I wore good shoes and everything was in my favor. It was an enjoyable stroll. I came home, had supper and stretched my legs out on a chair. Ahhh. Then I got up. My ankle was not happy supporting the weight of my body while it walked. 

My ankle was fine for the entirety of my walk and in the aftermath. There was no trauma. Did I stretch something when I elevated my feet and relaxed? Would this become an ongoing issue like my painful "resting neck syndrome"?

I pampered my ankle with its own pillow when I went to bed. I awoke in the middle of the night and strolled down the hall to write some middle-of-the-night pages. Ouch. My ankle still hurt. I wrapped it in a tensor bandage and left it on for the rest of the night. 

I awoke to an ankle that was still a little angry. I wandered through my morning routines and my ankle was better. Then came the test. I dropped my car off for an oil change and walked (not quite a mile) to work. I never thought of my ankle again. It healed itself.

Thank you! Thank you!! Thank you!!!

I am beyond grateful for my body's ability to retain its state of homeostasis. Our bodies work hard to maintain all that makes us run smoothly. When everything runs as expected, it is easy to take it all for granted. I'm grateful for life's little wake up calls to remind me to simply be grateful.

A Walk in the Cemetery

I walked to the Cemetery after work yesterday. It was a work-related task (deciphering between what our Town Cemetery map said and the reality). My goal was to find what family plot was available for a daughter to bury her mother and also her eventual resting spot.

It sounds a little gruesome. My co-workers suggested I go after dark (who can stay awake that long I wonder??) and they would come out and scare me. I chose daylight hours and looked forward to the nice, long walk on a perfect day.

I found the family I was looking for immediately. Our cemetery map contained errors and once I oriented myself to the map I had in hand, I replayed the conversation I had with the daughter and filled in a few of the blanks.

As the daughter spoke to me yesterday, I immediately thought of the conversations I had with Mom. Mom often spoke of her family members, she saved funeral cards, obituaries and had a small collection of the history books from nearby towns. If Mom didn't know an answer, she had her siblings and resources to seek her answers.

This particular daughter didn't have siblings to turn to, to help decipher some of the information we were seeking yesterday. I told her I would put on my detective hat and do my best to find what we needed to know.

Our family has some people who are true family historians. They have searched out family trees and we are the benefactors of their knowledge. I'm more of a story-person, so I collected memories, stories and history of life-as-they-knew-it. 

I collected Mom's family's stories right from the source. Mom, her three sisters and sister-in-law were happy to contribute to the book. When I collected Dad's family's stories, they were from five of seven of Dad's brothers (as well as their wives, children, friends and neighbors). All of Mom's family and two of Dad's brothers have died since their memories were put into writing, leaving us with the family lore they spoke of and the memories that were captured within the pages of history books and family memories.

I couldn't help but think of the stories and memories held within the cemetery. Everyone has a story. I hope they had a chance to leave their mark.

I had hoped Nature would pull out a small wonder for me to relay to the daughter I spoke to yesterday. The closest I got was spotting a gopher in the entrance of the cemetery. Never to be seen again. 

I have no mystical story to relay. Simply a respectful and peaceful reflection honoring those who were laid to rest. 

Sharing your story with your family and friends is a gift. Something to hold onto as time passes. 

Homeostasis

My new-found favorite word is "homeostasis". As defined by Google AI: Homeostasis is the process by which living organisms maintain a stable internal environment despite external changes.

This process of maintaining a stable internal environment, in my case my home/home-life, describes my need for a calm, quiet, orderly home and constant need for grounding by being home.

I remember the conscious awareness of the feeling of calm, safety and order when it was finally restored when I left my marriage a third and final time. Our home enviromnent was stable despite the chaos that ensued after ending my marriage. 

I have never forgotten the contrast between the before and after of my marriage. Any time there has been a threat to the feeling of serenity within the walls I call home, I have been able to make the changes required to return to that stability.

Various relationships and work environments have evolved due to my deep seated need (knowledge) that something had to change to bring me back to where I needed to be.

People have commented on my ability to adapt, reset, restart and basically trust my intuition. My true north is my need for this feeling of stability. My homeostasis has guided and contines to guide me in the direction I need to go.

I believe we all have this deep inner "knowing". Taking one step towards that knowing can feel impossible. Trusting it will all work out in the end may seem impossible.

I'm very fortunate to have had the privilege to make some giant leaps of faith. It has felt like jumping without a parachute at times. But I always knew I had some safety net to catch me if I ended up in a free-fall. I simply knew I had to do something to bring my life back into balance.

Every time I made a big change, I had a contingency plan of some sort. I knew Mom had my back in a worst-case-scenario. I was shaken after she died. Knowing I had to have my own back (which I had all along) was a little unnerving. 

Life is so big and scary. It is full of unknowns. It can change in a New York Minute. The need to maintain a stable internal environment despite external changes is vital. 

May you find and keep returning to your own personal homeostasis.

Regaining Equilibrium

Jumping back into life-at-home wasn't as easy as I thought it would be. Offering to work the afternoon of my first day home threw me off my groove a little but it jump-started me in a way that was necessary.

Now that I have 2-1/2 workdays under my belt (one to go until the weekend), I'm feeling a little more human. Then again, is that because I went and booked a restorative weekend away?

What?? That's crazy. After all the "holidaying" I did last week, why did I go and do this? 

A myriad of reasons but the best of all the reasons is because I found an above-ground AirBnB two blocks from Mom's previous home. Home. The place I always returned to regain my equilibrium.

I'm going "home" again. A quiet weekend with family/friends and no commitments. No appointments, no errands, no cats and in a rooftop suite with LOTS of windows.

They say you can't go home again but I'm going anyway. Everything has changed. I've changed. Relationships have evolved. But "home", back in my old neighborhood, is the closest I can get to the feeling I had when I visited Mom.

I've been missing her a little bit lately. I want to go home.

Home

I've been away for a week. I never quite gained the equilibrium I feel by simply being "home" while I was away. I'm back. I'm relieved.

There is nothing quite like waking up in your own bed, to the sound of robins singing their good morning songs. Everything has a place and resides quite nicely in its spot at home. Home. Oh, I've misssed you so.

The desire to drive home mid-holiday and unpack the mounting accumulations that were amassing in the car was great. It would have been silly to do so. Waste a tank of gas and the better part of a day driving to and fro, unpacking and most likely tending to the lawn while I was here. No, it was better to stay put, veg out in the backyard with the cats and do my best impression of relaxing.

Yes, I spent the week in my Original Home, presently rented to and occupied by my daughter and her spouse. And the cats. 

It isn't my home. I spent my time in my own little suite downstairs that has everything I need (except a bathroom with a shower). It took a few days to settle into my space and find a way to make it work for me. The first thing I missed was my upstairs writing spot by a window. Writing my morning pages was painful.

I spent years in that basement "suite" and loved every moment of it. It wasn't like I was confined to the basement during my stay. I had (too many) errands to run, people to see and the only thing that dictated my day was the cat's feeding/medication times. Times that work for me. To be home by 6:30 - 7:00 p.m. was a gift. It fit right into my love of quiet evenings at home. But there was something missing. Windows.

I have windows, windows and more windows in my little home. As long as I'm not trying to block out the heat of the sun, my morning ritual is to open up the blinds/curtains immediately upon my waking. Daylight. Gazing outside. Watching and listening to the birds, the sky, the trees ... ahhh.

Yes, I spent time outside. With the cats. They are senior cats with little desire to scale the fence and escape the spacious back yard. But every now and again, one will make a break for it. So time spent outside was mostly relaxing but ever present of where the cats were. 

I could have and should have puttered in the back yard while the cats explored and sniffed out the outdoors. I devoted one day to yard work, worked up a sweat, a good covering of dirt & grime and had little desire to repeat the process. So I simply sat out there and felt just a tad angsty. I seemed to need to know the time, so had my phone with me. **Note to self - take your watch with you when you go on a holiday so you aren't so bound to that danged phone!!**

I accomplished everything I set out to do while I was away. I even managed to squeeze in a manicure and pedicure. I visited friends and family. I enjoyed every moment of the one-on-one socialization. But I was off. I wasn't home.

The return home yesterday was welcome. Unfortunately I had offered to work in the afternoon so the joyous occasion wasn't celebrated properly. I played the game "how much can I do before I go to work?" instead. I managed to put almost everything in its spot except the groceries that didn't need refrigeration before I ran outside and mowed the lawn, then washed the bugs off the car.

It was a race to the finish and I made it to work by 1:00 but my head wasn't in the work-game and I seemed to forget anything I thought I knew for a while.

I finally reaped the benefits of my efforts when I came home from work. Home. Home at last.

Be it ever so humble, there's no place quite like it.