Another Christmas has come and gone . . . .

It seems over the past few years, I have let go a huge sigh of relief on the 26th day of December. I'm relieved when the decorations are back in their boxes safely stored away for another year. This year was no different.

My mind drifts back to the Christmas memories when I was a child and I yearn for the simplicity of those days. The excitement of baking cookies, peeking into dark closets hoping to come upon hidden packages, the smell of a fresh balsam tree standing tall in the living room, watching out my bedroom window on Christmas Eve hoping to hear or see the magical sight of Santa and his sleigh.

I have wonderful memories of those days and it reminds me that the most wonderful gift my parents ever gave me was the belief in magic. I don't think children experience that anymore . . . life was simpler then and it was easier to believe.

But now I'm more at peace when everything is carefully packed away. Maybe next year my gift to myself will be find the way to rediscover the magic. I know it is still out there . . . maybe next year.

Sometimes it's scary . . .

I spent the past 7 or so days feeling terrible. Lightheaded, no appetite, achy body, and on and on and on. I did all the right things; went to the doctor, drank plenty of liquids, ate white rice for days, faithfully took the pills I was given but, instead of getting better, it seemed to get worse.

I think for the very first time in my life I was frightened that this was something bigger than a few pills could fix. I don't where those feelings came from Maybe being on the downslide to 70, maybe living and working with so many elderly people, maybe just because. But worry I did and I was frghtened.

I'm back to my old healthy self again - the pills that were prescribed actually were the culprit. As soon as they were stopped, all became right again. And I'm thinking, maybe the fear was a good thing. I tend to let my days slide away and now I'm finding I savor them just a tad more. Life should not be taken for granted and that is exactly what most of us seem to do. Scary.

Where have all the days gone to . . .

The day was spent pleasantly - a summer afternoon barbecue with good friends, lots of laughter, burgers on the grill, one of those "God, I'm glad to be alive" kind of days. And then this evening another delightful surprise . . . quite by accident I discovered a blog written by my childhood forever-friend! It was fun to read her words and to have another way to stay connected but it also shouted out loud and clear that far too many days have gone by without any words written by me here.

Where have all the days gone to . . . they seem to fade away far too quickly. Words written help to better savor each and every day.

Thank you Froma for the reminder ♥

A perfect day . . .

Tracy came and spent the night - a wonderful treat! We went to see the new Clint Eastwood movie, "Gran Torino," in which he plays a bigoted retireee who becomes a reluctant neighborhood hero. Powerful story, awesome acting.

67 . . . .

... but, I'm not counting.


Birthdays seem to arrive a whole lot faster then they used to and the days in between flash by all too quickly. I guess this is another one of those "aging things" you read about in the check-out line magazines at the grocery store but, who cares, I've decided to enjoy the cake and simply stop counting.

I slept late this morning, waking up every hour or so and then drifting back remembering .....

Sweet memories from birthdays past and yet it's a good feeling to know that I'm happier in my skin than ever before. I guess birthdays bring about some good things other than cake after all.

Zoe . . .

The telephone has the jolting power to tilt your world and yesterday the tilt was in a good direction. The call came telling us that Zoe's blood tests all came back looking good ..... a huge sigh of relief!

This little 10 lbs of fur has captured a gigantic spot in our hearts . . . .

Froma . . .

Strange, we hadn't spoken in years but after just a few minutes on the phone, it felt like we were curled up on the couch and talking as if the years had never slipped in between us. She was my childhood right-next-door friend, the one that was a part of so many of my growing-up discoveries. Our perspectives were different but the same . . . she being the Jewish girl, me being the Christian. We never knew we were different back then but society did in those days.

One of my fondest memories is of the two us sneaking in to sit in her formal living room - sitting on the forbidden furniture while her mother was busy elsewhere and not there to scold us away. Anne, the mother who to a child's eyes, had a zillion bottles of nail polish lined up in rows in the kitchen pantry. So different from my mother. Furniture in my home was meant to be sat on ... and fingernails were rarely painted red except for very special occasions.

Sometimes we get lucky - sometimes when the phone rings, happiness and memories come drifting back into your heart through the telephone lines and the years drift away. It's nice to have my childhood friend back - I missed her.