she was a kindred spirit

she was thankful that it was a balmy december day. carrying 6 packages into the post office would have been awkward in the rain, snow or wind. balancing the packages on her hip, she entered the post office and smiled at the long line of customers. she took her place behind an elderly gentleman holding a large box. he smiled hello and she answered back with a “i should have known better”. he replied with a hearty, “we all should have!” he seemed happy to have company during what looked to be a long wait.

she set her packages down on the floor, knowing she could scoot them along the floor all the way to the counter. he did the same thing and indicated the package was definitely getting heavier by the minute. he said it contained a coffeemaker that he was sending to his sister in arizona for christmas. he’d been to the PO earlier that morning to buy the box and now was back in line to ship it.

as the line moved forward she saw that an old christmas movie was playing on a television conveniently placed for viewing by the customers. he commented that it was a different movie than it had been at 9:00 am. she commented that she didn’t know the name of it. “it stars Bing Crosby,” he said. “and that’s danny kaye,” she replied. neither of them knew the female lead but they both said “rosemary clooney” in unison when she came on the screen. she couldn’t help thinking what a nice gesture the movie was by the postal staff.

glancing around the lobby she noticed the traditional red north pole mailbox decorated with snow and ribbon. only one letter was visible in the box. hmmm, she thought, is there a deadline for placing letters in the box for guaranteed delivery to santa before christmas eve? it was the post office after all.

as the gentleman turned to take his turn at the counter, he thanked her for chatting and wished her a happy holiday. he seemed lonely and she so hoped that he had family at home to keep him company and give him a wonderful holiday. she said a silent prayer for his well-being and hoped there would be someone to look out after her when she was old. she also hoped she’d still be happy to spend a few minutes with a kindred spirit in a holiday line when she was older. what comes around, goes around she thought. and she knew she’d be just fine when she was old.

she treasures

still in her cozy dotted pajamas and soft robe, she sits reading and savoring a cup of hot coffee. under the dome by stephen king lays in her lap, whispering her name, a siren call of "finish me, you know you want to". she looks at the room full of plastic containers and wonders how long it will take to decorate the tree this year. so much joy has come from all the years of collecting and making ornaments. but as she's aged the actual decorating feels more like work than it used to.

she wanders into the art room and checks g-mail. yeah, two more etsy orders for prints and notecards. she adds them to the mental list of things to do. this time of year, there are multiple lists to be prioritized and completed -- the shopping list, the art list, the food list, the post office list. hubby has suggested that an i-phone would be a great way to keep the lists organized in one convenient place. she knows it's true but still holds out. how can she tout a simpler life when she adds one more electronic device to her daily life? no, she thinks, i won't get one; i must be strong and hold to my convictions.

knowing she can't stall and play all day, she attacks the multitude of christmas ornament containers. the balls come first, some as new as 3 days old and others purchased in 1974 when she first took up housekeeping as a new wife. hanging the balls is a mindless task; this is the 35th year she's decorated a tree in her own home. so many years gone by so quickly. will she really be 57 in just a few days? is she truly the mother of two 30-somethings? she experiences a few melancholy moments of loneliness or maybe it's just longing for what is gone and can never be again.

she feels munchy and heads to the fridge for a quick snack, settling on sharp cheddar cheese, triscuits, a sliced yellow delicious apple and a large glass of ice water.  between bites she starts placing the special ornaments -- the wooden square matt made in kindergarten in 1983, the beaded ornaments her grandma j made in the 70's, the plush snowmen with stick arms she made a few years back. each holds a cherished memory and is placed in a prime spot on the tree. among her favorites are the whirlygig ornaments with small metal wings that spin around when placed over a light bulb on the tree. the heat from the bulb makes the metal spin and glisten on the tree. she remembers when her mom first bought them and how she loved them as a child.  she recalls all the children over the years who have looked at them with wonder. one day she will hand them and so many other ornaments down to her kids and grandkids.

she treasures these moments so much. each ornament sparks a memory, a vision of earlier times when she was an awe-filled child; a naive, hope-filled young mother; or a mature woman still yearning to change the world. each of these stages, these reflections of herself she treasures.

she gathers dreams

she is lost in her own thoughts as she drives "home" to visit her family. a hot cup of coffee and the soft voice of james taylor are her faithful companions. views of city buildings and busy retail stores are slowly replaced by tumbled down barns, grazing cows and the occasional all-service truck stop. the first rays of early morning light push her along as she journeys west, back to her roots, where her heart truly lives.

she imagines how nice it would be to have a new puppy on these trips. the new little friend would sit in the seat next to her, a warm little ball of fur, full of energy and unconditional love. her name would be willa or maybe zoe. luna is on the possibility list as well. thoughts of presley flood her eyes with tears. when will the longing to have just one more day with him end? a new puppy would help with that, she knows.

she slows as she passes a small old farmhouse next to a pond. a slideshow starts in her head, images of the life she'd like to live there. barefoot in old dungarees, she gathers fresh eggs in her apron. in fading evening light, she plucks a succulent tomato from her garden vine. nikon in hand, she captures early morning dew on the field grasses. snuggled warmly before the fire, she lovingly reads to her grandchildren. with overwhelming love in her heart, she serves the weekly sunday dinner to her extended family. she envisions the thankful look in her hubbie's eyes; it is the look that says "i'm so glad i trusted you and bought into this dream of yours, this dream to live a simpler life."

as she enters her hometown and turns onto her daughter's street, the slide show continues . . . walking up the library steps with a grandchild's small hand in each of hers . . . long walks with her daughter in the waning evening light . . . fishing the pond with her son on lazy saturday mornings. she gathers her dreams around her and promises herself to make them come true one day soon.

she found peace

she sat at her work desk trying to drown out the chaos of swirling change and constant upheaval. an animated conversation about last-minute product changes pounded a staccato beat in her head. the pile of hot job jackets that needed to get into production seemed to be throbbing and increasing in size like a special effect in a harry potter movie. she ticked off the list of holiday gifts that needed to be purchased during a harried lunch hour. she felt momentarily overwhelmed; she knew she needed a break from the madness.

angling her large mac screen away from her cubicle doorway she opened her personal file folder of nikon-snapped photos. working quickly and surreptitiously she scrolled down thru the photos looking for one to grab her heart and touch her soul. a quick pick, a quick drag into photoshop and she was off to her creative safe place. cropping, layering, filtering had her relaxed and in the zone so quickly that she was able to block out the meaningless cacophony. meaningless was a creativity-sucking enemy. she battled the enemy by seeking the light of inspired creativity. ah, there it was -- that wonderful stream of light slanting down on her from the creativity gods. she closed her eyes and basked in the glow. she found peace once again and she loved it.

she yearned

she wandered restlessly from room to room, a little bored, a little disgusted with herself. there were so many little things that needed to be done around the house. but she didn't want to do a single one of them. no, not a single one. she had this restless feeling quite often but today it was particularly bad. she yearned. for what, she wasn't really sure. she felt a need to be free of obligation and pressure to work a conventional, corporate job. she wanted to to explore every creative itch and every "i wonder what" that sprang from a secret place deep within her soul. she wanted to play full-time, to have the leisure of being 100% selfishly creative 24/7. she sighed.

she knew what would break her out of this funk. she grabbed her camera, threw on her well-worn sandals and headed out the door. immediately, the restless yearning faded, replaced by exhilaration and hope. hope that one day she would get her wish and be able to play to her heart's content. but for today she would take this blessed hour or two to search for that perfect shadow, a gorgeous ray of sunshine peeking thru a dark cloud or an abandoned nest in the top of a swaying tree. the familiar sound of the aperture opening and closing soothed her and she was at peace.