Bouquet of words!

They have wilted, dried out and died, like echoes of color, they mark the rain soaked pavements with a ravishing combination of pale green with a hint of earth red, deep yellow with ugly grey splotches, maroon brown drunk with wine and coffee.  Like a child often reprimanded for willfulness, I need to reign in those urges to squat on the still wet grass and handpick them to my heart's content. These fallen leaves!

After a long day of sharing and caring, I open the widow at night to stillness. A stillness that holds me in quiet so I can be my whole full self without doing. I follow the patterns of the bare branched trees, each ending in a stub, pale without dewdrops and bird songs and I know the winter will be long. Perhaps only to remind us, to sit by the warm umbers of dead fires, to observe with care only that which is close and nearby and put away for a while the blazing fires of a different season that seem to ignite the whole world and shine upon us with just as much splendor as anything else making us shiny and yet less unique. 

I feel this urge to mix colors and place them upon a still white canvas, with haste, without caring, colors next to colors until I have to the last of my ability captured each of my dreams and I know that maybe I have said just as much as I can probably communicate with words and colors. Too tired and sleepless, I slip into bed with hope for some sleep. 

In the morning the light is out and the bare branches are still staring out at the plain sky, the energy to mix colors has stayed through the night and is waiting for me to follow. But these words have to be marked down before they disappear, very much like the fall leaves that I hesitated picking up.  I wonder if happiness is as much made of make believe, as is sorrow?

I wonder again, why these grown up pockets are so very poor? Cleaning out the heavy winter jackets, I discover treasures in the pockets of my innocent children, treasures of quaint looking rock, bird feathers, candy wrappers, a few broken shells and a scrunched up note, a reminder to self, 'don't forget to watch the sky!’ a reminder that I remind them each morning only to forget it myself on a day filled with too much care. 

Yes, happiness can be found even when our hearts are broken, it can be found in the soft prayer whispered in silence for happiness, not your own but for another gentle soul!

Thanksgiving!

It’s a glorious morning! The sun kissed pine leaves are glistening outside my window, Popeye my puppy, is snoring on my lap, the soft fragrance of the midnight jasmine candle is following the rose tulips wandering in every direction unhindered by the purple-blue vase that struggles to hold them together. Outside, the lavender shrub, planted in a sturdy brown pot, is floating in the warm breeze adding charm to the old swing upon the terracotta colored deck and for now everything seems perfect! Well almost perfect!

This strange dis-ease of collaborating a fabulous Thanksgiving day is mildly bothering me today. As always I am trying to exceed expectations - mine, and that of everyone else in our small family. A family that reminds me of a brown paper package tied up with strings, from the classical song in the classical movie, ' Sound of Music'!

The thing that makes it classy, is that all five of us, including Popeye, have been carefully placed inside the very same brown package which is tied together with beautiful strings of color, music, poetry, food, sports, goofiness, good humor, creativity, joy and a dash of irritability due to our uniqueness. Like most humans there are times when we remain indifferent to the flawed abundance around us, times when we pursue the imaginary and give up on the obvious. We could have gone through life like packages tied together, sitting side by side through the long and sometimes tiring journey and yet never knowing or never being curious of what is inside the other.

But a different choice has been made and with this choice has come a blessing, the rare blessing, of being able to see that which is within and embracing that which is unique with love, respect and kindness.  I feel immensely grateful for the family that we have each worked very hard to create, a home where the masks have fallen off and each one if free to be their own self. 

It will be a small celebration, a simple one lacking grandeur but complete in its wholesomeness. The house will be tidied, there will be flowers and candles, soft music for sure, food catering to everyone's palette, a warm fire, wine, sweet desert accompanied by acknowledgement of as many things as possible that we are each grateful for. Then there will be a tad bit of argument about the movie to watch, a mild irritation of things not being just so, the anger at losing at a board game, the frustration of Popeye needing to be let out just as we are sitting down to eat and other small mishaps that families with moody teens and tweens experience. But surely, loving and living through all of this is what makes thanksgiving special!

So what is this mild dis-ease that I experience about Thanksgiving - it’s the expectation! The hopeless expectation of making that, which is already perfect more complete! This is it! This is all! This is what my life is about, these magnificent relationships with a handful of people whose faces light up when they see me, these many carings, this sharing and this renewed sense of togetherness. 

A very happy Thanksgiving to you all! 

The underwear!!!

" Another story, please mommy just one more". " My kids pleaded as I put them to bed. Of late my childhood stories have become the subject of interest and I enjoy sharing them. 

Set at a time and upon a continent so far from their own surroundings, I wish for them to see me, see me as a child, one amongst several in the joint family, where food was rationed and toys were rare, and I want for them to know that despite what they imagine that I was a happy child.

Earlier that week a neighbor had casually mentioned that the home that we are currently living in once belonged to a Sudanese basketball player. "He was about seven feet tall,” she mentioned causing me to imagine him bending his head in the basement. She told me that he didn't know how to use the micro oven and had put his food into the trash compacter instead and in a state of panic had knocked on the neighbor's door for help. I laughed at this story, with her, at her and at myself.

After all I too had grown up not knowing a lot of the comforts taken for granted by my children. Upon researching him on the Internet I discovered that he sent almost all of his earnings back home to help many, many people.  A generous soul that provided a doorway to a new life for many!!

Coming back to the dimly lit pink bedroom, with the princess drapes, warm comforters, an assortment of stuff toys, a row of American girl dolls and closets full of clothing. I mention to my children that I had only two or three sets of clothing growing up. They look at me in surprise. "We washed them everyday", I continued, "so I never needed any more than that".

With that comment, my story for the night steps out just like that. 

Once the elastic on my underwear snapped right during lunch hour at school and my underwear kept slipping, we wore dress uniforms and I was convinced that it would fall off at some point. I was just in kindergarten and I was terrified of my convent teachers and wouldn't dare mentioning it to them.  So I went to my sister instead! She too felt the deep shame of my predicament and dragged me hastily to a stall in the bathroom, trying desperately to fasten this slipping garment. But the school bell rang and she had to leave! So I put my hand in the pocket of my uniform dress and held my underwear up with two fingers and cried silently in shame. It was to be playground time soon after math and I searched my tiny head desperately for a good excuse to miss it. 

Once inside the classroom, my anxious mind did not spare me any quiet or rest. I could not stop imagining all kinds of outcomes, all in which I would be further shamed. I put my head down on the table for naptime and cried silently! Suddenly I found the light!! There was a huge rubber band on the floor below my desk! God put it there! I picked it up real quick, slipped my skinny legs through it and fastened it upon my underwear. I stood up, and removed my hand slowly out of my pocket but not all the way out just in case my plan failed. But it worked! I stepped away from my desk confidently, ran to the playground and played without a care. 

I remember that day as vividly as one would remember a miracle!

 On the way back home, my sister congratulated me on my quick thinking and my mother was mortified when she noticed that I continued to use that rubber band on my good underwear as well, "just in case!"

With that my story ended. My kids laughed their head off at this story and were still smiling as I tucked them in and kissed their heads.

I so… badly want for them to know that happiness is not about things you have but it’s about not having people who care and love you. I so… badly want for them to be able to laugh at themselves and have people with whom they can share their stories. I so… badly want for them to know that they will be all right, no matter what happens!

But sadly I cannot teach them that! Some lessons have to be learnt from your own life. 

Fish Food!!!

Dressed in a sharp suit, a red tie and a white shirt, the new school principal is not among those that can go unnoticed. He is a big guy with a radiant smile and is very personable to all the students and parents alike.

"What do you mean you don't know where the restrooms are??” I yelled, as my daughter refused to take her younger sister to the restrooms during the school play. I shoved the girls and ordered for them to march as we headed towards the restrooms. Before you judge me please let me add that I was exhausted after a long day. As we turned round the corner of the auditorium, the new principal was standing there. I would have never guessed this about myself - I smiled brightly as I saw him! I smiled so... very brightly, you would think I was watching an awe-inspiring sunset!! He smiled back and suddenly and just like that my exhaustion just melted away. 

I stood placidly outside the restroom waiting for the girls to emerge. My face was softer and the fact that our seat numbers in the theatre was messed up didn't bother me as much. My daughter looked quizzically at my smiling expression. I leaned into her and whispered, " That principal, he's hot! Can you get into trouble so I can meet him in person?”

"Mommy!!!” she groaned! With her index finger waving a no-no at me. I rejoiced at her reaction. Yes! I love annoying those I love!!! But this interaction like several others is the hallmark of my relationship with my children, enabling us to share stuff that I would never dare to share with my own parents!

Just as simply and casually, we discussed death one evening.

"Mommy would you like to be buried or cremated?” they asked innocently. "Burn me and throw my ashes into the waters!” I replied  throwing my right arm into the air dramatically like an actress. " Do you mean the ocean or the rivers, which one would you prefer?” my little one asked.  Oh! just flush me down the toilet", I said only half joking. "I would never do that,” she said quickly.

The conversation stopped at that as we listened to a favorite song on the Radio, each one of us a bit lost in our own little world.

"How about I put your ashes in my fishing bowl?” my little one questioned me again. I could not contain myself. I laughed aloud imagining this unusual plan taking shape. Suddenly the thought of being contained in a small bowl gave me a deep sense of safety that I have always desired. "Sure! I love the idea. In fact you guys should split my ashes and both of you can feed your fish a little bit of me every-time" I suggested still delighted by the fact that I would be somehow close to my children even after dying. I made a fish face and whispered their names in a fishy voice that sent ripples of laughter through the room.  “Guess you will be pushing sea-weed instead of daisies”, concluded my older one and we rolled in laughter once again.

Rightly or not, there are few barriers in this relationship! Rightly or not I am hated as much as I am loved, laughed at as much as I’m cherished, a confidant as much as a parent! Rightly or not I love this ease in our relationship and the pleasure of laughing, even if it’s just at ourselves!