1. Morning walks. I adore watching the world wake back up this time of year, even as I miss the quiet of the dark, cold, and snow.

2. Mom. When I sent her flowers this year for Valentine’s day and then again on her birthday along with some gifts, I thought it would be the last time. Instead, yesterday I ordered a custom box of See’s candies and flowers for Mother’s day. And while she is doing well, the slow decline continues. She is sleeping more and this past week started showing signs of sundowning, getting more confused and a bit agitated as the day winds down, so they’ve started her on a new medication to help. 

This is a strange moment in life that happens to everyone and yet some of us are still surprised when it comes, as if it’s unexpected. The end of Dad’s life was the beginning of Mom’s slow decline, so in some ways it was like losing them both at the same time. I left home for good over 30 years ago, and this is a whole other layer — first I left home and now it is leaving me. And even though I don’t think I ever would have gone back even if something happened to Eric, because I’ve made my life here, I always knew I could. They never would have turned me away and I always had somewhere I could go. To have that gone, even though I don’t “need” it and don’t expect to, it is a strange and lonely feeling.

3. Therapy. Week two. I’m glad I went back. I’ve got a lot to process, work through, and learn. I’m so grateful to have a wise, compassionate guide to support me.

4. Good neighbors. The ones across the street (who live next door to the ones who support what is currently happening and have the flags to show it) just put up a new flag (the picture on the left) and it will go nicely with the new yard sign I ordered from Etsy (the one on the right). I get that some people view signs and flags and stickers as “performative” but if “they” are going to put up their flags, I can’t let it go without a response. More than anything, I want their kids to see that there is another way.

5. My tiny family, small house, little life. This is my home and I love it here.

Bonus joy: having my birdfeeder back and full of both seeds and birds, leaves on the maple tree outside my window, buds on my iris, onion rolls, chicken noodle soup, Chloe’ bringing me cough drops, payday, finishing the laundry, groceries, heat radiating from the dryer and oven, books from the library, libraries and librarians, poetry and poets, listening to podcasts, watching TV and movies, yoga at Red Sage, other people’s dogs and kids and gardens, texting with Chris, Pilates and Yoga, getting in the pool, sitting in the sauna, the hydromassage chair, pizza, yogurt with granola and fruit, tacos and burritos, PBS and NPR, trees, comedy, true crime, clean sheets, a mug of hot green tea, yard time, how green and soft the grass in the backyard is right now, massage, making art, stickers, glue stick and scissors, garbage pick up and the folks who do that work, the people who grow and harvest our produce, naps, reading in bed at night while Eric and Ringo sleep. 

1. Morning walks. Things are really turning green right now, getting rowdy in all kinds of ways — like the line from this poem, “April comes like an idiot, babbling and strewing flowers.” We missed one walk because we got snow and cold yesterday, but on the others we saw a heron and some deer and of course stopped by Your Best Day Ever to visit Theresa, get some love and treats for Ringo.

2. Mom. There was a hiccup with Mom’s catheter this week that caused a false alarm, a phone call to advise us she may be in kidney failure which led to me consulting Dr. Google, even though I already knew what they would say because kidney failure is exactly what prompted us to place Dad in hospice care, and wondering how soon I might be on my way to Oregon again. Turns out, as my brother had already suspected, that they just needed to switch out her catheter, which had simply gotten “disconnected.” It’s so hard, knowing Mom wishes I was there and knowing at some point things will take a turn and this will all be over, feeling so stuck in this liminal space, this in-between. And yet, I’m still so grateful she is where she is, has such good care and because of that, my brother gets some relief, and that I’m home in my favorite place.

3. Practice. Yoga at Red Sage, writing with my Friday morning sangha, sitting in my practice room early in the morning.

4. Therapy, again. I’m getting closer to finding a therapist. I’ve been in and out of therapy for 35+ years. Lately, with everything going on in my own life and the world, I’ve been feeling the need to go back, but that meant finding someone new, which is always such a complicated and even discouraging process. I already have a primary care doctor, masseuse, acupuncturist, and nutritionist, along with a Pilates and Yoga instructor on my “care team,” but it’s been feeling like I’m going in regularly to get my teeth cleaned when this whole time I’ve been walking around with a broken leg (heart?).

5. My tiny family, small house, little life. The more I lose, the more that goes wrong, the more certain I am how good I have it here, with them.

Bonus joy: getting to spend time with Stacey and Heather, seeing Chloe’ irl, videos and pictures of Hendrix, other people’s kids and dogs, good food, making each other laugh while practicing yoga, aqua aerobics, sitting in the sauna, the hydromassage chair, lounging in the backyard with Ringo, sitting on the couch with Eric, hugs in the kitchen, listening to podcasts, watching TV, going to Mt Everest Cafe with Eric, making a new recipe and it turning out to be really good, sunshine, forsythia, a warm shower, a nap, down blankets and pillows, my Shakti mat, poetry and poets, libraries and librarians, comedy, true crime, documentaries, the chance to start over again, reading in bed at night while Eric and Ringo sleep.