#73 - Turkey-day

There are several days a year when Americans do the similar or the same thing. Today is one of those days. In my family I can remember this day being pretty much the same since I was a little girl and my gramma would get up early on turkey-day, get the bird in the oven  super early then start prepping all the sides, or as they were known in our house, the fixins.  Yea, it was a southern thing.

Remembering those days brings a warm feeling to my soul and a smile to my heart.  My gramma, what a classy lady she was, full of life and spunk, beautiful yet humble, sweet as can be but stern when needed.  She was everything I wanted to be when I grew up. 

As the only real role model I had since my own mother was, well that's another story, my gramma gave me the strength I needed to endure pretty much anything. I can remember many dinners at her house, many times I helped her prepping for those meals and cleaning up after. I can remember watching her make pies and other yummies and hoping that some day I could do them just as good as she did.  Getting elbow deep in flour and making messes while trying to help but learning as much as I could.  Those were the days I want to hold onto from my childhood.

That spunky lady even went on after divorcing my grandfather in her 50s to go back to school, something he would not allow her to do when they were married, and get her nursing degree and go on to be a nurse.  She taught me to never give up on your dream.  Never let them see you cry.  Never expose your weak points.  Never ever let a man stop you from doing and being what you want. Always make sure your children come first in everything you do but do not let finishing that task be the end of it all.  Go on and continue living, continue gropwing, and never stop having fun. 

I still remember a photo of her whitewater rafting in her late 50s.  She did live.  Even remarrying later in life to a fabulous gentleman who treated her like the queen she was.  She was able to enjoy her life, have her cake and eat it too, so to speak.  Raising 4 children and surviving the early years of an abusive relationship then going on to become who she really wanted to be. 

Sitting here writing this, I am realizing for the first time just how much our lives mirrored each other.  I am just hoping that I have made her proud.  I hope that I am as strong as she was, have the courage she did to continue to push and push til I get to sit down and eat my cake.  I must thank her for all she gave me, for teaching me to never give up, to just survive until it's time to thrive, then go forward and conquer. 

So now that my bird is in the oven and I prepare to make the pies and all the sides, I feel a presence here with me, standing beside me as I prepare the meal I will share with my family.  I wonder how many other little girls are up helping their grammas make the feast we will all share today on this American holiday when we all do pretty much the same thing.

Happy Turkeyday.

#51 - My Mini-Me Trip

Have you ever gone into such a deep trance or hypnosis that you go back in time?  Yesterday in my second float therapy session I had the most amazing experience.  I am pretty sure based on the redness of my eyes that I even cried during it.  It was such an eye-opening experience, tugging at every string between my heart and mind and it gave me such peace.  I am still feeling a little beside myself from it...almost literally.

As I prepared for my float, my mind was in such a state of disarray, such clutter, so many emotions flying around inside my heart and head it was hard to stop thinking and relax.  This week has been an overload and I just felt I was losing myself completely in the chaos.  So as I laid down in the pool, I told myself to let go and remember my best piece of advice, the one that gets me through everything.  "Breathe.  That is all that is required of you because everything else is optional.  Just breathe!"

Dim blue pin-lights in the ceiling, salt water glistening below, warm and inviting pool of blissfulness  soon to become complete silence and darkness. This has become my new happy place away from home.  Feels about as close to floating in the ocean as one can get without being there.  My mind bringing to the party the sounds and smells of the beach, gulls squawking overhead, waves slapping the shore, and the air so fresh and light.  Almost home.  My mind lets go.  Relax.  Peace.

A hand reaches out and grabs mine, holding it ever so tight, firm but loving.  I know this hand, this feeling, this touch.  I have missed this hand so much over the years.  No words are needed.  My husband is with me again, holding my hand through this journey.  Another is there too.  The warmth of another embraces my other hand.  My Gramma, lost a year after my husband.  My two favorite people are here.  I hear my heart beat speed up, then slow, breathing deep, in then out.  They hold my hands as I watch myself at the tender age of 4 running and playing, so happy, not a care in the world.  Just breathe.  Stay in the moment.  Stay.  Maybe this will last forever.  Such peace.

The lights came back on and I emerged as if having been reborn.  So at peace with what happened, in awe of it all really.  I cannot fully comprehend the message given to me during this experience enough to put into words.  All I know is the sense of peace I came back with is unmistakable.  It was an emotional explosion like no other.  My eyes so red as if I had cried for days, my heart so full and yet light as a feather.  I understand yet am still grasping, wanting to hold on just a little longer.  All I can do is look forward, take another step, a leap of faith that there will be ground to land on.  Eyes open looking to the future, heart and mind finally feeling the connection, ready to explore what comes.  My inner-child reminding me that its fun to run and laugh and play.  My first true love watching over me and never leaving my side.  Gramma, the closest thing to a real mother I ever experienced, always with me helping to guide me.  The message is so clear. 

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