45 Days

Good-bye, good-bye, world.

Good-bye, Grover's Corners....

Mama and Papa.  Good-bye to

clocks ticking.....and Mama's

sunflowers.  And food and coffee.

And new-ironed dresses and hot

baths.....and sleeping and waking

up.  Oh earth, you're too wonderful

for anybody to realize you.

~ Thorton Wilder, Our Town

I'm not certain when I first saw

Our Town or heard the character

of Emily, as a ghost, speaking

these words about the ordinary

things we mortals take for granted.

But I do remember

the catch in my breath,

tears welling in my eyes

as this character on stage

brought life into focus for

me in a way I'd never quite

understood it, before.

And I've never forgotten the

longing in Emily's voice as 

she spoke so lovingly of things

that, most of the time, slip 

under our radar.

It's been 45 not-so-ordinary

days since my last post.

My firstborn danced through prom,

plowed through senior finals, 

bloomed at her first art show/

graduation open house, whirled 

past graduation and attendant 

festivities, and is still smiling

her way through more grad 

parties on the weekends.

While we were caught up in

a flurry of celebrations, exams,

family comings and goings, gift

giving, hugs and kisses, life, as

it does, marched on.

45 days.

At my son's 8th grade banquet,

I had the privilege of hugging

the wife of one of my son's past

coaches; this kind man is now

battling cancer.  While we

spoke with tears in our eyes, all

I could see was her grace and

determination to hold things 

together for their son.

45 days.

I received an email from my

bestie in New Zealand:

Dear Suzanne, my darling 

dad died on May 19.....

My heart plummeted.

45 days.

A text from another 

bestie, Kathleen:

I wanted to give you an update 

from my oncologist.

It is good news and bad.....

We are focused on the good.

45 days.

Searching for my favorite

high school teacher on-line,

Google found her.

She died two summers ago.

73 miles away.

And while technically that didn't

happen during the last 45 days,

when I saw her lovely face smiling

at me from the page of Benson's

Funeral home, it might as well of

been, I felt it so keenly.

45 days.

Days that have me yearning, as

Emily in Our Town so eloquently

professes, for the ordinary ones.

For daisies in a jam jar,

laundry flapping on the line,

smoke wafting from the grill,

Gracie dog warm in my lap,

wine in the driveway at sunset,

cheering at baseball games,

eating warm berries,

bare feet in the grass.

These summer days, I want

to realize the wonder of this

earth ~

this life,

the blessedness

of ordinary,

tucked in among the ups

and downs that are bound 

to be there, too.

45 days.

What have yours been like?

I'd love to know.

xo

Suzanne

all photos my own

The Set Point

In a recent blog

post, my sweet 

friend wrote about

stepping on the scale 

for the first time 

in a while, after

returning home from

spring break.

I can just imagine her, 

 fingers crossed,

eyes squeezed tight,

hoping that she'd either

lost some unexpected 

pounds or hadn't taken

her eye off the ball

for too long and put

some on.

The numbers that

revealed themselves

to her were not, in fact, 

a surprise, but the same

digits that her little body

always seems to gravitate

towards.

I have my own 

number like that.

I call it my set point.

I've had my highs

and I've had my lows,

but invariably, this

is where my particular 

body wants to be.

It's at ease there.

Happy.

As long as I am

mindful of my

eating and give it

plenty of exercise,

it hovers around that

comfortable number.

For many, many years, 

my life has been like that,

with routines that involve

family, school and the

seasons.

Like a graph, it has also

had its ups, like vacations,

births and celebrations ~ and its

downs, such as illnesses, deaths

and worry, but eventually,

 eventually 

we found our equilibrium,

once more.

The straight line on 

the graph.

The set point.

In the next month there

will be some lovely highs

on my graph, including

my daughter's senior prom, 

my annual mother-daughter

trip with my mom, a houseful

of company for my girl's

 graduation, as well as her

very own art show and

open house.

It's all

high high high

until I drop this first born

at college, a long, long

way from home, at the

end of August.

Then there will be just

three faces around our

table, instead of four.

If it is possible for a heart

to leap with the joy of

possibilities for someone,

yet cry at the same time, 

that will be mine.

Over the coming year there

will be peaks and there will

be valleys.

And then, like my friend,

I will open my eyes and

I'll release those crossed

fingers, to be greeted by

our new normal.

Our new set point.

Because that's just how

life works, in its own

amazingly

beautiful

way.

xo

Suzanne

PS:  I'll be back in June

to share all the high points,

{and lots and lots of photos}

and my thoughts, with you.

Hoping to still visit blogs,

despite the mayhem : )

PPS:  I cherish each and

every reader who visits my

blog.  Thank you, from the

bottom of my heart, for sharing

life's journey with me.

You are the best.

All images my own.