A Person Who Stops

Let me continue to be – a person who STOPS.

Stops to smell the lilacs blooming.

Stops to buy a glass of lemonade.

Stops to admire baby bunnies.

Stops to ask about the protest sign.

Stops to watch the sun setting or rising.

Stops to hear night time “Taps” from the neighboring base.

Stops to read the missing cat poster.

Stops to hear the music (and dance a jig).

Stops to admire the graffiti.

Stops to ask, “How old is the baby?”.

Stops to let you in in traffic.

Stops to listen to the bird singing.

Stops to talk in the grocery aisle.

Stops to pick up a sea shell.

Stops to thank a veteran.

Stops to watch a caterpillar crawl.

Stops to share a peach.

Stops to give a ride.

Stops.

To feel the sadness.

To enjoy life.

To live.

Stop.

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The Presents

We are old. Giving gifts has always meant a lot to me. I was raised in a household that valued gifts, valued “things” actually. At Christmas time, the base of our tree would be piled hiiiigh with presents wrapped in brightly colored paper tied with neatly curled ribbons. Birthdays would mean being spoiled by more gifts. Even Valentine’s Day came with a present. So, without being overtly taught, I learned that love was shown by giving something tangible. As I became an adult, I noticed people older than me asking for things for the holidays that I thought were silly – cheese, wine, nuts… “Those aren’t PRESENTS,” I remember thinking. “Presents are touchable, physical things – things to be KEPT, not to be consumed.” So, when I found my life partner, I showered him with GIFTS. Gifts wrapped just as I had been subconsciously taught must be wrapped in beautiful paper, tied tight with a bow. But it didn’t take long for me to notice that my love and

We Ride At Dawn

I can’t be the only one feeling down. And stressed. And nervous. And angry. And confused. And just about every other negative emotion that could be listed. There is just so much ANGST in the world right now, especially with the upcoming elections in the US. And sometimes (at least for deep feelers like myself) it just feels like a little too much to bear. But then I get a reminder. A reminder that even in the midst of all of these sleepless nights and fret – there IS good in the world. I got 2 reminders recently, and I thought I should share them in case you haven’t had any. I don’t know, I guess with the hopes that the reminders I came across will help boost your spirits a bit, too. Here’s the first one. This hat. We came home the other day and this was hanging on our front doorknob. Now, we have had a LOT of things left on our porch over the years – rusty cans of soup, brand new snow boots, and everything in between – but this was t

The Girl Who Can't Ride a Bike

I am “the girl who can’t ride a bike”. I guess to be accurate, I should say that I WAS “the girl who can’t ride a bike”. But it was such a big part of my identity growing up, that the never formalized (but often teased about) nickname stuck in my psyche. You know how most kids love to jump on their bikes and pedal around the neighborhood once they have figured out how to balance, brake, and GO? Yeah, that wasn’t me. I wasn’t that kid. I am not sure WHAT really happened. The one thing I do remember is being on a bike in my family’s garage in Omaha, Nebraska trying to ride my bike. It must’ve been winter, otherwise, why wouldn’t I have been outdoors?? But I think my foot slipped off the pedal and I know for sure my knee hit the handlebar. It hurt. I remember crying. But I am guessing that it hurt my pride more than it hurt my knee. I think I was already past the age where kids were “supposed” to ride a bike. But then and there I must’ve secretly made

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