1. Morning walks. Eric was on spring break this past week, so we got to go together, and that’s always nice. I stayed home this morning instead of going with them, instead of sleeping in, and I’m sitting here wondering why I didn’t go, wishing I had — they just got home as I was typing that. 🙂

2. Practice. I still haven’t reset my practice space after moving it around to make it a spare bedroom a few weeks ago, and with my anxiety so triggered, it’s been hard to meditate anyway, and something about spring is motivating me to try again, to reset and restart, so I’m looking forward to getting that back together this weekend. Yoga at Red Sage is always such a joy, such medicine, as is my Friday morning writing group.

3. My “other” family. Mom is doing well. In a few weeks, it will be her birthday, not one we expected her to see, to be here for. And even though she no longer has any real sense of the calendar or time and doesn’t remember birthdays or holidays, I’d love to be there with her for it, but that’s not likely to work out and with the way my anxiety and air travel has been lately, it’s probably better to not try. The realtor for her house sent pictures of the new paint and it’s just so strange to see it like that, the wallpaper gone, and we all know it has to be done but it’s still so sad. There’s still lots to be done and I’m so grateful Chris is there and willing to take care of all that. The littles just keep growing and getting bigger, with little man Warren now wearing some of his Mom’s old clothes.

4. Spring. Forsythia are blooming and my daffodils are coming up. We’ve been running the sprinkler on the grass in the backyard and watering the trees and the lilac bushes because it’s been so warm and dry. Soon they’ll announce and implement whatever water restrictions we’ll have in place over the summer and it means we won’t plant much of a garden if any at all, but for now, we run the sprinkler and sit out in the backyard under the shade of our umbrella and enjoy it. While the climate crisis we are in may only keep getting worse until it’s all underwater or burnt, and this may be the coming of the apocalypse, it doesn’t mean I can’t also for now water the grass to help it turn more green and alive and feel joy at the blooms. What else would I be doing besides raging and worrying and grieving? I do all that too, but too much of that or only that and there is no chance of surviving — and by that I don’t mean making it through to the other side of whatever this is, but rather keeping my heart alive, tender and open while it all burns, seeing how beautiful even the fire is, how brilliant and how brutal. I can pack a go bag in case we need to evacuate but I can also keep a vase of flowers on the kitchen table. It makes me think of these poems by Ada Limón.

5. My tiny family, small house, little life. I’ve been doing a lot of tinkering and cleaning around the house, part because of the inspiration of spring and also because after clearing out Mom’s house I can’t help but see all my “stuff” in a different light. For now, as is always part of the process in such matters, it just looks like a big mess, but I’m not giving up yet. Eric goes back to work next week, and I feel summer rushing towards us already. Ringo is doing well and I’m so happy for that. Now that the weather is warmer, he’s started that thing he did last year: I take him out to go potty one last time before bed and he’ll lie down in the grass to lounge for a bit before doing what we came out to do. It could be a little annoying because I’m ready to go to bed, but I remind myself we don’t have a lot of time left together and some day I’m going to miss this pause, so I stay and sit with him and enjoy the cool/warm night air and the quiet.

Bonus joy: losing track of what day of the week it is, chicken pot pie, noticing all the blooming things, other people’s dogs and kids, blue sky, sunrise, gummies, our new bed, pizza, Ringo’s care team, a big glass of cold clean water, Dairy Queen ice cream for “dinner,” libraries and librarians, book club, stickers, watching movies 20 minutes at a time, naps, a warm shower, getting rid of things we don’t need anymore, the sound of the trains, water, cherry blossom season, rain (sure wish we’d get some), my dad’s old school pictures from when he was little, making myself a new playlist, listening to podcasts, comedy and comedians, being able to start over, lowering the bar, reading in bed at night while Eric and Ringo sleep.

1. Morning walks. They were shorter but we got to take them this week, and it made me so happy. There was only one morning we only went around the block, but that was because it was snowing (yay!) and it was the kind that spring brings, heavy and wet.

2. Ringo’s “care team.” In particular, Dr. Gaffney at Mulnix Animal Clinic, Dr. Foster at Animal Elevation, and Dr. Rychel and Teri at Red Sage Integrative Veterinary Partners. The past couple of weeks have been rough and having them available, so smart and caring, has been so good. Ringo has arthritis, this is nothing new, but there is a spot on his back that has been particularly uncomfortable and a bit of a mystery the past few weeks, but we are hoping we’ve got it properly located, identified, figured out, and our plan will bring us all some relief. Let’s not talk about how much money has been spent — too bad “working breed” doesn’t mean they have a job and get paid for it. 

3. Two of my favorite boys share a birthday. They turned five this week. Happy Birthday!!!!!

4. Practice. Thursday morning yoga and Friday morning wild-ish writing along with the tender big hearted humans who practice with me kept me alive this week.

5. My tiny family, small house, little life. Like I said, the past few weeks have been tough, but no matter how hard things get, there’s nowhere I’d rather be, no one (two) I’d rather be there with. No matter what happens, we’ll just keep trying, keep taking care of each other the best we can.

Bonus joy: Olly stress gummies, strawberries and raspberries, cinnamon swirl bread from The Bread Chic, good TV, listening to podcasts, comedy and comedians, getting the laundry done, poetry and poets, lowering the bar, eating whatever sounds good regardless of its nutritional value because sometimes you just need to eat something, crying, a hot cup of coffee and warm mug of tea, massage, getting in the pool and the sauna (they are going to be closed for about two weeks for repairs, *sob*), libraries and librarians, a warm shower, clean sheets, down blankets and pillows, staying in bed in the morning even though you are awake because it’s just so cozy, giving away things that are precious to people who are the same, hugs, birds, other people’s pets, Eric coming back to tell me Ringo had moved to that spot on Sam’s couch where the sun hits this time of the morning and the deep sigh he did when he laid down, this poem Michelle shared yesterday and in particular this line: “a wild place, toothed and flowering,” reading in bed at night while Eric and Ringo sleep, and these two pictures, one of my aunt Monica at her husband Bruce’s celebration of life service holding baby Hallie for the first time and another of the way the light hits the glass in my front door some mornings and reflects onto the wall.

P. S. Kind and gentle reader, I feel this week in particular that I want to honor how hard, how much effort it can take sometimes to be grateful. We can be so desperate to grasp at some sort of comfort, we say dumb things like “it could be worse” to try and cheer ourselves up. The world is heavy and even our domesticity, as the poet above says, can be “unnavigable, and not for the tenderhearted.” In these moments, all I can do is remind myself what Jeff Foster said, “Impermanence has already rendered everything and everyone around you so deeply holy and significant and worthy of your heartbreaking gratitude. Loss has already transfigured your life into an altar,” and keep making this list every week, keep saying “thank you.” If you are finding it hard to be grateful, to keep going, I see you, and I’m right there with you. Stay tender. Keep your heart open. Don’t give up. And thank you, thank you for still being here. ❤