"until I met a man who had no legs."

This has been the most amazing day! I've been dreading it all week, having to leave my hotel room for a room in a friends house. Knowing it's an impostion no matter how gracious her offer. We're a lot alike, my friend and I...both with grown children and very used to having our own "place". Private, quiet people the two of us. So, I know she's happy to help and sorry she has to.


The day started with me trying to shove 50 pounds of stuff in a 20 pound suitcase that was old when I was young. I'll tell you, it resisted the proccess! But with "friends" (thank you, you know who you are) bouncing, and a few not-so-polite words, it finally closed. By then, I was already
beat! I gethered everything else together and managed to get out by check out time.

So there I was, pulling approximately 100 pounds of 30 year old luggage on protesting wheels to the bus stop three blocks away. As I walked, I muttered to myself about how unfair all this was. Being tossed out, having a suitcase with square wheels, the fact that the bus would probably be late. Generally about everything that was wrong in my life, which was just about everything at that moment, in my estimation.

I was so busy watching the sidewalk and feuling my private "pity party" that I had run into the stroller before I even saw it. I muttered something without looking up which I hoped would be taken as an apology, thought I wasn't feeling exactly apologetic right that moment. When you see someone coming, move out of the way for God's sake!

I pulled my luggage straight at the bus stop and glanced into the stroller. It was big and old, possible older than my suitcase, and was held together in several places with duct tape. Inside was a baby, six or eight months old with carrot red curls, bright blue eyes, and a smile that took up his entire face. He giggled at the bump to the stroller, and I couldn't help it. I had to smile back. Something about his baby stare bothered me, but...

This time I actually looked at the woman holding the stroller handle. She wouldn't be called pretty, but her eyes were the same blue as the baby's and she had a calm, peaceful air about her. This time I apologized to her for running into the stroller. She smiled at me, and I was suddenly puzzled that I hadn't thought of her as pretty. She glanced down at the baby with a look of love you could have seen across the street.

"Doesn't appear Mikey minded a bit! It's nice to hear him laugh a little." That "something" in the back of my mind jumped and I looked at him again. His blue gaze seemed to be looking right at me, but his eyes had a far away, unfocused shine. His head seemed to big for his little neck to support and trembled just a bit.

I said something about how cute he was and her smile widened. "Oh I know! He's a real heartbreaker, Mikey. Already has 2 marraige proposals from the nurses. He's only 3, but that's 2 years longer than they said I'd have him, so every time he smiles, just makes my day."

In less than a second my mind flashed on my two beautiful children...my two incredible grandsons. I suddenely for the life of me couldn't remember one single thing that had seemed so horribly wrong with my life just minutes ago. The bus pulled up just then...it wasn't mine but I helped her with the stroller and they were gone. I just sat there, thinking about Mikey's smile.

My bus pulled up a few minutes later, and the day again took a downturn...the lift was broken, and no way was I getting my "load" on the bus without it. I had just started the thought "It figures..." when a young Hispanic man got off the bus. Big man! The kind that would have scared the hell out of me in a dark alley. He smiled, picked the whole bundle up and put it on the bus! I stood there with my mouth open for a few seconds, then got on the bus. I thanked him & he just waved it off.

Again, I sat, just thinking about things, and differently I might add. I had started the day angry and complaining about my lot. When his stop came, the young ma touched my shoulder and wished me luck with the bags! All my amazment for the day faded 35 minutes later when I got off the bus in the foothills of the Rocky Mountains.

Now understand, the Rockies aren't like other mountains...there are no rolling hills that gradually increase in elevation. We have the foothills...one minute you're flat, the next you're looking up a sidewalk that goes at 90 degrees straight up! "Oh my God!" It was all I could get out, and 15 minutes and 3/4 of a block later, I couldn't even manage that!

At that moment, the very moment I had decided to stop and sleep right there on the sidewalk for the night, the next miracle of the day happened. A car pulled to the curb and the man inside asked if I was going up the hill, eyeing my luggage dubiously. I told him yeas, and he asked if I would like a ride. Now several things went through my mind...it was only 3 more blocks straight uphill, he might be a serial killer, Mom always said say no. I gave it exactly 1 seconds thought, told him yes and sank into the front seat! This wonderful man put my bags in the car, drove me right to the door and took them all out for me! I would have kissed him, but I think the weeping embarrassed him enough!

And my last miracle? My dear friend came home from her job and said she had talked to her employer about me and they wanted to hire me! In one minute, she erased 9 months of frustration and fear! It isn't a sure thing...I have to fill out the application and talk to them, but it's greenhouse work, which I'm familiar with and love, and they seem very excited that I would work the entire season. Imagine! Getting paid to play in the dirt and plant flowers! Heaven!

That has been my day of miracles! Of unexpected kindness from strangers...of a lesson in gratefulness taught by a child...of the miraculous offer of a job that came out of now where!

And so I sit here now, warm and safe, and think of my two children...my two beautiful grown children. On the computer I pull up pictures of my grandsons and study the perfect, intelligent little faces smiling at me, first one then the other. I'm going to bed now, in the soft bed my friend has offered, knowing that tomorrow, I have a job that will make me feel useful and human again.

Happiness is where you find it...and it's everywhere.

And so, why do I care?

I have been bugged for months by people, and you know who you are, to start a blog. "You can write. You should put your words "out there". It was the "out there" that always worried me. I wasn't sure where "out there" was, or if I wanted my words, my thoughts, my feelings wherever it was!
I have written my whole life...mostly to myself, because there, there was no lying, no compromise. I said exactly what I thought/felt/meant at that moment with no fear of recrimination or blame. I knew no one else would ever read it, so I could be absolutely honest. Obviously, the thought that my words/thoughts/feelings were being immediately sent to anyone with access to a computer posed a serious worry, on two fronts.
One, what if someone I knew saw it and didn't like what I said? Was offended? Was hurt? The other, finding myself writing an "edited" version of what I wanted to say to keep #1 from happening. Can't say right this moment which one unnerved me more!
Even in my novels, I wrote "honestly"...not ever believing anyone else would see it, and writing "in the moment". I don't believe anyone who knows me would ever believe I had those thoughts, feelings in me...can't blame them! I've spent a lifetime NOT putting that "me" out there! My writing has always been one of the few things I considered "mine"!
So you can see my dilemma. The "blog" is new to me...it feels like a cross between a journal and a chat room...trying to connect by being who you are, while watching every word you say for fear of offending, which I'm pretty sure has nothing to do with who we really are!

So. I have entered this new realm, tho I still find myself "editing" what I say here...wondering if it's "good" enough, or "witty" enough. And finally deciding that, to anyone who reads, or follows this or whatever they call it, it will just have to "be enough". For me, it's enough that I put it "out there".

Write on!

On death and living...and how we continue to do both

So much has happened in the last month, that between dying (someone else) and trying to live (me), I just haven't had time for this. I've thought about it from time to time...sure I should give tribute to the wonderful friend and gentle soul the world, and I lost last week.

Well, have done as much with the job search thing as I can this week, taken as much help from those who love me as I can stand, and Plurk is down. No time like the present...

Lori left me last Sunday morning. Her sister, who had been there to help me with her the last few days came up and told me at 3:30am that she was gone. I already knew. I felt the warmth of her spirit and the sound of her laughter leave. It stopped briefly in my room in the attic on it's way up, and then was gone on it's laughing journey to a life without the pain and fear she had lived with for so long. I kissed her soul as it left, and then cried because I couldn't go with her. I was so jealous of her!

Her family wasted no time in getting me out of the house, something I had been afraid of, and had been told by them ALL would never happen. Should have listened to my "little voice". It's sarcastic, critical and always puts forth the "worst case" scenario...unfortunately, it's also usually right.

Now, I understand them wanting it to be "just family" at that time. But Lori was gone...where were they when she was still here? Where were they when I was changing her bed...when I was begging her to take "one more sip"...when I cooked for hours to try and make something that smelled good enough that she might eat dinner? Where were they, and why does "being born" qualify you as family, and helping you die, does not?

I know I sound bitter...I am. Not for me..not because they left he homeless in 24 hours, or because I had to take my cat of 10 yrs. to a shelter because the room (my KIDS HAD TO PAY FOR) wouldn't allow him...I'm bitter because behind all of the "family facade, were people who were going through her drawers and cupboards before they had even taken her away!

I watched from upstairs as they took away the body that had housed that wonderful spirit so painfully for so many years, away. I don't think her "family" even noticed.

This has turned into quite the depressing post..didn't mean for it to be. It was supposed to be a testament to Loraine Sweet, to her undying love of life and her family..to her sometimes naughty sense of humor that made her blush...to the wonderful feeling of love and acceptance without judgement I recieved from her. These are the things that I aspire to in my life...to love people when they are mean and hurtful...to understand it's not always aimed at you, but to you, because you should understand. That it should be a compliment when people "let loose" on you, because they trust you enough to understand.

I thank Lori for making me realize how many people I owe an apology to...and so, to my children, to the friends I have & have lost, I apologize. I just didn't understand. Thanks to Lori, now I do, and will change my life accordingly. Can only hope it's not too late.

So, Lori, "God bless, sleep well, and grab the rail."