DECEMBER 21, 2012.

Some believed the world would end.  For me it almost did.

The phone call froze my life into moments of fear, despair that immobilized my limbs.  I could only sit.  But my stillness was loud with shouts, pleas transmitted from my soul to whatever could hear.

Ian, my three year old grandson, was sick, so sick and getting worse.  Nothing stopped the fever. His pain was so strong it contorted his body 'til he could not move. His chatter, typically constant, ceased.  His silence was broken only by groans. and his screams when examined.

The doctors weren't sure of the cause but they knew surgery would relieve the pressure on his esophagus and reduce the pain.  He spent the night in agony.  His helpless parents stood by unable to offer any consolation or relief. They asked me not to go.  I can understand why.  I would have been no help.

A war waged within me.  Positive thoughts were slain by the negative possibilities.  And the worse seemed possible.

Mega doses of mega medicines were given intravenously.  Mega prayers went out from our friends that know how to pray.

At 5 a.m. Ian fell asleep exhausted.  Surgery was to happen that morning.  But when the doctors examined him again, it was clear something had changed.  The abscess that was causing the trauma to Ian's body was subsiding, shrinking.  The doctors decided to wait.

By early afternoon, everyone involved was perplexed.  The doctors could not understand how/why such a healing was occurring.  The parents were surprised when Ian ate a few crackers.  (He had not eaten in days.)  My husband and I were ecstatic at the news.

**

Christmas happened.  Ian's recovery has been quick.  My family and I enjoyed watching him open presents and play.  

I think about the parents of children who have died and my heart goes out to them.  I wonder how they cope.  

I think about those who argue about the merits of science versus the existence of something beyond our capacity to explain.  And I don't care.  It doesn't matter.  Truth just is.  Let us believe what we want.

I am grateful.  I thank science as well as the unknown for my grandson's recovery.  What is a miracle?

Life has returned to "normal".  I was unable to write until now and I had to write about this.  I'll be visiting blogs, getting back to my attempts at poetry, enjoying the things I like.  I know you would have been supportive, but I was too sad to get on line.  

I hope we all remain healthy - in all the facets that entails.  Hope you enjoyed the holidays, and that your "normal" is really, really good.

Ian with my daughter during a fun pony ride. December 30, 2012

SEEKING BALANCE

Taos, New Mexico

"I want to be free," he says.

He wants to roam in places unseen,

to mingle with beings unknown,

experience the joy of beauty unimagined.

He dreams, like a child

yearning for adulthood,

thinking that grown ups can do anything

untethered by rules 

that make them waste time

by following the commands of others.

"Me, I love where I am," she says.

She doesn't mind routine, or fences

of perceived stability,

repeated behaviors that don't risk shaking

comfort of family, friends and all that's familiar.

She dreams of tranquility, or is it immobility?

Like an elder resisting movement,

of arthritic limbs, in stillness constricting

flowing only towards stagnation,

predictable peaceful ending. 

No choice is wrong, they know.

Without conflict, relationships

can't grow.

So, though fear may be the core

of their differing stances,

their love is what mediates,

while their trust ensures,

the constant of their union.

(Submitted to DVerse Poets.)

The holidays are keeping me busy.  Not too much time to write, so this is all I could come up with today.  It's an exaggeration but there's truth to it. It's the theme of many of our conversations lately. Hubby dreams of traveling long term (staying away for months), me I'm content to stay home, though the occasional short trip is nice.  No right or wrong, but a compromise is needed.

THE CALM AFTER THE STORM

Belatedly I write: Happy Holidays, Happy New Year, Happy Life, May joy and laughter always flavor your life. However, these thoughts have no seasonal or time constraints. I always wish you these things.

I've been away from blogging because a storm of friendly, loving and delightful people have gone through my life and house during the holidays. It was wonderful and joyous as well as a lot of work and change in routine. All storms are like that.

My busy time made me remember what my grandmother used to say about people who become stressed and get little done when they face minimal challenges. She said: "They drown in a cup of water." That's me. I drowned.

Resuscitated, I now enjoy the calm in which I thrive best.

I missed you all and am SO glad to be back.

I hope this year brings us all much peace, love, creativity and more true friends.

SACRED MOMENTS

I bought a few gifts, some food and went to see my mother. She didn't know it was her birthday because she hardly knows anything anymore. The only thing remaining in her conscious mind is the present moment, nothing else. I've wondered if this is a blessing, or does it rob her of true living. Is it living at all?

She recognizes each moment as an individual picture frame that is immediately discarded, forgotten. It hurts a little that she sees me that way. She seems to experience a tinge of recognition, but once I'm out of her range, I'm gone and the memory is lost, or rather it never existed.

We were never close. Now there's no time left to create a semblance of a mother/daughter kinship. What never was, will never be. Still, I am the person who looks after her well being, making sure all her needs are met. I'm certain her basic ones are. Her mental/emotional/spiritual needs may be less fulfilled, or totally fulfilled. I don't know.

So I gave her some presents, a little food, a hug, some smiles and good wishes during the moments I was with her. Her spirit was lifted temporarily, until it retrieved into unknown, vacant, mysterious realms where I can't find her.

It's difficult for me to maintain an inner sacred silence. The voices of ego chime in and interrupt my meditation. When I observe my mother's stillness, her detachment from the material, I can't help but wonder if she hasn't naturally mastered a type of time travel that jettisons her to the place I seek in my own silence. I wonder if maybe someday we'll meet there to connect beyond the limits of relationship, beyond the confines of conditions, beyond the boundaries of bodies, in the place where love is truly all.

Until then I must focus on basics, on mundane and humane considerations and on simple, interactive moments. Yesterday, when I uttered, "Happy Birthday Mother," it made her happy... and me too.

LETTING GO

I had to let you go baby girl.
My belly's protective comfort
painfully thrust you to life.
Deluded for a while,
I thought I knew best,
but always life had other plans.
My resistance served no purpose.
You wanted to leave, you had to.
Life enticed, lured and seduced you.
I clung on tight in ignorance thinking
I could be enough, my guidance enough.
But, you had other plans.
As it should be,
you embraced them.

Life so erratic, never still,
but always yours to steer.
Today I celebrate not just your life
but mine, enriched because you are.
Love's power - enormous.
Love so strong.
Love protective.
Love undemanding.
Love transformed me.

As it should be,
I let you go baby girl. Live.
________________

I think one of the things our children teach us is to let go. That seems to be the major theme of parenthood. Today is my daughter's birthday. I am so grateful to have her and to continue to experience the lessons she brings (even as an adult).

Though I think I've let go, truth is, I'm still thoroughly connected to her - in a good way. Though love should have no conditions, I've always had at least one - that she be happy.

ACCEPTANCE

As soon as she asked me, my heart sank a little because I've been doing quite a bit of caretaking lately. But, I couldn't bring myself to say no. She deserves a vacation more than anyone I know (besides myself). How could I not support a young marriage by making fun possible? So I said yes I'll baby sit at daughter's house while she and her husband go take a little respite.

Gradually, I became excited about it. At first I thought I would be the only one involved, but my husband was quick to suggest that we get someone to care for the ladies (mother and mother-in-law) and we could both go and have fun doing grandparent stuff. He hadn't seen the baby in a few months and he was so happy to be able to spend time with him. He assured me this could be a kind of vacation for us both.

I called Maria, who has cared for the ladies for the last few years whenever my husband and I can get away. She agreed to do it once again. As soon as she arrived at the house, I gave her some instructions and left for what was sure to be a memorable, different kind of vacation.

The day of our arrival, after my daughter and husband left, we played with the baby, took him to feed the ducks at a lake, ate with him and bed time was delightful. It was a glorious day.

At 6:52 am the next morning, Maria called. She had slipped in our bathroom and thought she may have broken something in her knee, had to go the hospital asap, was calling a friend to stay with the ladies until we got home, would one of us get home quick, she was in a lot of pain.

My husband left an hour later. I'm at my daughter's house alone, enjoying my time with grandson, but missing my husband, disappointed and struggling to master the art of acceptance.

*****
"Whatever the present moment contains, accept it as if you had chosen it."

Eckhart Tolle

(Maria did have some fractures. Hope she'll be okay.)

Dog Whisperer - - - NOT!

You may recall that my husband found a boxer puppy on a desert road. After waiting for three days, no one claimed him and he officially became a new member of my family. I had already named him Leroy and in so doing there was no question in my mind that if he didn't belong somewhere else, he belonged with me.

I picked up a book last night written by a very spiritual lady. One of the chapters is devoted to pets. Among other things, she asserts that pets come into our lives to teach us about ourselves. Upon reflection it became clear that Leroy might just be a very skilled professor in disguise. His teaching methods, though bizarre, seem effective.


Confronting my tendency to procrastinate has been something I've always put off. Leroy saw the flaw in my character immediately when I started leaving his training for tomorrow, and tomorrow. I've promised myself that I will eventually enroll him in dog obedience training. But I said that with Daisy (my other dog) too and thus far it hasn't happened. However, Leroy's behavior is a constant reminder that this time I cannot procrastinate. He needs training ASAP.

It looks like teaching me patience is also at the top of his priority list. (And here I thought the Ladies, my mother and mother-in-law, were already in charge of that curriculum.) It seems Leroy's teachings rely a lot on rote and repetition. Mechanically I find myself constantly checking to make sure he is not dragging away laundry or area rugs, stealing garbage, books and pillows, or disregarding potty rules. Patiently, I have repeated the word "no" ad infinitum. Slowly I'm learning that patience is not so much a virtue as it is an alternative to insanity.

Another possible lesson from Leroy is that our decisions have consequences, not just for ourselves but for others. The Ladies have yet to show any sign of fondness for Leroy. His energy level seems to scare them. Interestingly, they have established a deeper bond with Daisy who has been most effected by the imposition of a new sibling. As much as she tries, Daisy cannot ignore Leroy, whose life goal seems to be to annoy her. He wants to play, to run, to sleep and eat with her. I try to separate them to give her a little respite, but Leroy finds a way to be with her regardless of any discomfort to himself. Daisy has been a little sick (hypothyroidism) and has absolutely no interest in playing or otherwise socializing with Leroy in any manner. She seems so sad with the sudden change in her life.


But not all consequences are negative. My husband and I are closer now as we engage in many practical and philosophical conversations about how best to respond to Leroy's needs.
"You take him out this time."
"No, it's your turn."
"Look he's eating the remote control."
"Did you feed him?"
"What, Daisy can get up with you on the couch but Leroy can't?"
"But I've always cuddled with Daisy. Leroy is going to be too big for that."
"That's not fair."
"They're dogs. They don't know about fairness. Besides, life's not fair."

Well, there are many lessons still left for me to learn. But I do already know that every one, every thing has potential to make a difference. Leroy has. I know too, that Leroy, whose name is almost synonymous with mischief, has ignited a little spark of joy and fun in mine and my husband's life. I think eventually he'll be good for Daisy and the Ladies too. It is his lively, funny temperament and his uniqueness that we love as well as the fact that undoubtedly, he'll enhance our education.

"Life is a succession of lessons which must be lived to be understood."

Thomas Carlyle

LOVING HOME

I hated going home

to antiquated rules,

to ugly fashions despised

by those who knew

better, acceptable ways

and spoke in tongues

of apple pie and moms

so pretty with blue eyed kids

and husbands of prestige so affluent.

I hated going home

where boisterous tunes

of tickling rhythms aroused

involuntary primal moves,

where pictures of luscious tropics

bleeding gods, and America

the beautiful hung

in tacky mix of hope

and ignorance combined.

I hated going home

where simmering sofrito attacked

olfactory senses defenseless.

Where your fire slowly cooking, attempted,

to fill emptiness unrecognized.

Where consumed, rebellion digested,

in your sustenance at home,

I rested, protected by love

in your food disguised.

(Submitted to Magpie Tales . Hope you visit and treat yourself to some great reading.)

A young Puerto Rican girl, wanting to fit into the mainstream, sometimes rebelled and resented the customs of her ethnicity. Her grandmother, her Mami, always cooked delicious foods. This helped the girl eventually accept her cultural identity and recognize the love that was intrinsic to her home.

(

Sofrito is a blend of ingredients used as a basic in many Puerto Rican dishes. It is comprised of chopped garlic, sweet peppers, onions, cilantro and/or a similar herb, culantro.)

(Thank you to Jingle for nominating me for the Versatile Writer Award.)

THANK YOU!

I live out of town. In a minute I can be within the heart of my mountains enjoying only the company of the desert's solitude. Though my surroundings are more populated now than when I first moved here 11 years ago, they can only be considered rural, with large spans of desert separating most homes and some developments.

Yesterday, on his way to physical therapy, my husband found him lost in one of those barren spans of land. He immediately ran towards the car, jumped in and cuddled on my husband's lap. I went to get him and took him to the animal shelter to check if he had an identification chip. He didn't and he wasn't wearing a collar. "Do you want to leave him here or are you taking him home?" the attendant asked. The decision was made instantaneously and home he came. "If no one claims him in three days he's yours or you can always bring him back," said the girl while subtly stabbing my obvious mushy heart.

We wondered how a puppy could be roaming the desert far from any houses with no identification. Was he abandoned there? Perhaps not and he just ran away from home. Maybe someone will claim him today. But if they don't we can understand and withhold judgment.

Tasmanian Devil is the most appropriate name for him. However, I called him Leroy because he reminded me of a junior high school student I once had. Fresh out of college, I looked so young that often other teachers mistook me for a student. Leroy took full advantage of that. He sensed my insecurities and never passed up a chance to cause me problems. Finally, one day I confronted him alone. I admitted to him that I was inexperienced but I really wanted to do a good job. I pointed out that he was a born leader and as such he had control of the class. Would he instead of using that gift to make trouble use it instead to help me. Leroy became a model student. Others followed his example.

Well I can't very well have a heart to heart with Leroy the dog, but I've tried. He's settled down a little and I really think he can be a model dog when he matures. I captured this picture during one of his calm episodes last night.

If everything in life has meaning, what does this mean? I had been known to state that I never wanted a boxer (my daughter's whines, and drools too much and too often a gas mask is required if you must be in the same room), yet I

found Daisy via an Internet photo and I bonded before I ever even met her.

The final decision remains to be made. But I ask myself - what are the chances of finding another boxer, so cute and funny? Is it possible that the Universe has manifested a gift for me to mark the anniversary of something that has transformed my life? Perhaps so.

I am grateful. If Leroy becomes a part of my family...thank You. If he's only here for a few days...thank You.

For a year of blogging miracles...thank You!

Today, a year has passed since I nervously designed a blogging page and began this journey. It's been wonderful!

Thank you my friends.

BLURRED

My fuzzy, unfocused, blurred mind convinced me it was not important to announce my temporary silence. "It's just for a few days. I'll manage some posts here and there," I lied to myself. As time went on, I rationalized about not really having anything to say, so why write. As exhaustion set in, I told myself no one cares anyway.

As I write this now, a glimpse into my inner self is revealed - how unrealistic I can be on so many levels. I thought what life was calling me to do could be done easily by any superherowifemomgrandmomdauthterdoglover. What could be so hard in caring for a husband recovering from knee replacement surgery, a daughter from hand surgery, a very active one year old, two old ladies with dementia, and two dogs? Not too long ago I wrote about this same crisis scenario prior to the surgeries. I don't know what to call it this time, except an intensely difficult challenge. The physical requirements were enough, but add to that the inevitable family dysfunction and you either have good material for a funny sitcom, or a dramatic soap opera depending on your own world view.

I have a tiny family with no siblings. Extended family is either too old or living too far away to render support. So, I had to step up to the plate and just do the best I could. I survived and I'm resting now. Daughter and grandson are gone, and I'm only caring for the ladies. Husband is recovering well. I'll have at least one more round of this in a few months. My daughter still needs surgery on her other hand but I think it will be easier. (Unrealistic?)

What was most unrealistic is my thinking that you wouldn't care that much about my absence. I was so delighted to hear from some of you who were concerned. Thank you so much. It truly warmed my heart.

What I know was real is the fact that I was rude. I am so sorry that I did not let you know I would be gone for a while. I won't let that happen again. I know there may be some short periods of silence in the near future because I'm dealing with the ladies' placement in a nursing home. This is emotionally draining. I dispel the myth about writers doing their best work when they're depressed. Not true for me. I write best when I'm happy.

But even if not my best, I'll be writing sporadically. Please know that not one day went by that I did not think about my blogging friends. I don't think you can know how much I appreciate you. Thank you.

DECISIONS

Ruminating
my thoughts wander
within unknown darkness
no psychic powers predict
consequence of choice
muddy motivations stifle
clarity's flow intercepted
unanswered questions haunt
fear paralyzing spirit
confusion dominating all.

.
Perhaps I should...
Compared to others...
Right or wrong?
What if...?
Selfish me?
My life reclaim?
I'm no saint!

Feelings jumbled, contradict
truth of my soul
decision unmade
a decision just the same
life demanding movement
I breathe
I plunge
I chose.

(submitted to One Shot Wednesday where poets and writers meet.)

_______
Tough decisions must be made. For some it's about vocation, travel, marriage, divorce etc. For me it's about placing mother and mother-in-law in a nursing home. I've begun to explore those possibilities. It was a very difficult decision for me but I feel my physical and mental health are at stake. Wish me luck.

Mini Crisis

"I was calling to see if Ron and I could go over tomorrow. I want to bring my sister-in-law too. Will that be okay?" said Mary. She's loves visiting me. I am grateful to have many friends like her, who enjoy coming to my house for the company and the serenity of my home setting. When friends visit it's an opportunity for me to relax and enjoy some quality time.

But not this time. I declined politely as I tried to convey the severity of the mini crisis I was living. All of life's events are open to our interpretation and I realize that for many my so called mini-crisis was nothing but a minor upset in routine. I wasn't able to blog, to meditate, to do the things that bring me some peace.

My daughter had some health problems and it was difficult for her husband to help with the care of their one year old son. So, she came to my house where I could care for him. They were here for a little more than a week.

I learned some things. What they now call child proofing your house, is another term for making it look like it underwent a fashion revolution in another planet. Most decorations had to be removed and replaced by an array of all sizes of toys, which were dispersed all over the floor. A one year old has endless energy. By the time he went to bed, I was exhausted. I wondered how mothers handle more than one child at a time. I send them many blessings.

Though I was tired, I have to admit I had a lot of fun. Ian, like most toddlers, is full of curiosity, joy, humor and laughter. He triggered a wonderful playfulness in me. I love him so much and I wish he lived closer, so I could see him more often and get more accustomed to caring for him.

Caring for the baby had its challenges, but what was more difficult was dealing with the ladies (mother and mother-in-law). Mother-in-law did not respond well to sharing attention with a baby. At one point she refused to get out of bed and decided she was going to die. Mother became a little more confused at times and needed more supervision with her daily needs. Every day presented a little aspect of surprise. My husband was helpful, especially with the cooking. However, he needed some support himself because he was extremely nervous about his upcoming knee replacement surgery.

My daughter and grandson have left (to return again after she undergoes surgery), my husband is in the hospital recovering and will come home in a few days. But for now the house is quiet and I am able to reconnect with you my friends. I look forward to visiting your blogs again.

My lack of drawing skills

does not do him justice.

He is much, much cuter.

(I assure you I am

totally unbiased.)

Life Astonishing

"Guess what?!"
"What?" I said, though I pretty much knew what she was going to report.
"Not only did Baby not cry, he smiled when I kissed him and put him down for his nap!"
At least ten minutes were spent rejoicing over this and over Baby's overall progress with his new sleep routine. Daughter had been at her wits end because her son was so strongly resisting sleep. Now only four days after she read a book about successful sleep habits for toddlers and followed the prescribed plan, Baby is sleeping - like a baby.

Some parents may relate to the triumph described in this little story, but that's not my purpose. Not that long ago my daughter was strongly proclaiming in her own inimitably stubborn manner that she was never getting married or having children. Being the modern, progressive, feminist woman that I am, I was not about to impose society's mandates and expectations on any woman, least of all my own daughter. But I harbored a secret so deep it was almost a secret to myself - it would be nice to be a grandma. But, true to my convictions I gradually became adjusted to her choice of being a professional single woman.

She has now been married for over three years and Baby just turned one. I am amazed when I watch this person whom I bore and knew before she knew herself. The person who taught me so much about myself, especially about how I have no limited reservoir of love. When love is genuine and pure it is infinite and unconditional. I could never stop loving her just as I know she can never stop loving her own baby. Still, when I watch her tenderness, maturity, and self-giving I can't help but ask, "Who is this woman?"

So my purpose in writing this is of course to share a little, but mostly to vent my astonishment at how life can sometimes gift us even with things we dare not dream. As I think about it, there have actually been so many gifts bestowed on me - big ones like this one. Why? Who knows. I am charmed somehow.

So, though the day of Thanksgiving is over, I hope gratitude will exist in all my days. I hope you have had big gifts in your life surprising you, charming you - magic unexplained.

"To live is so startling it leaves little time for anything else."

Emily Dickinson

"I think I've discovered the secret of life - you just hang around until you get used to it."

Charles Schulz

(Quotes from The Quote Garden.)

A LIFE FULFILLED

Bacho and me. Father's Day 1988

I never go to cemeteries. I prefer to rely on my memories and silently pay tribute to the life that is no longer here by allowing my spirit to blend with the ghost's and rise to a higher realm. This cannot be called grief, unless grief naturally transforms into celebration.

I never paid much attention to Labor Day, except that it symbolized the end of summer and it provided a three day weekend. But six years ago father-in-law died on Labor Day. This was appropriate, because he was such a hard worker. Now it's a very different holiday for me.

When he was born it was apparently customary to bestow a biblical name on one's child, so he got stuck with the name Gervasio. I have no idea why, but his nickname was Bacho. I always thought both names were a little odd and funny, but they fit him perfectly well because he was an odd and funny guy.

He was born to a large and very poor family in Puerto Rico. They didn't use the term "third world" then, but that's what it was and daily life was primarily about fulfilling one's basic needs. I don't know too much about those times in his life but I'm sure Bacho was observing life, learning to navigate through it and yearning to improve it. He developed an intelligence and cunning skill that far exceeded his 6th grade education. And perhaps it was poverty that inculcated in him a firm desire to succeed at business and make money. He manifested part of his dream, he had many businesses in his lifetime. But financial success in that arena eluded him.

Mother-in-law's memories are filled with resentments towards a man who, somewhat typical of his generation in that cultural setting, could only be described as a MACHO. He was king of his impoverished castle and made all decisions alone. It was not unusual for him to sell the house and announce that they were moving without ever consulting his wife. When they were first married, as one of his business experiments, he took one part of their little house and converted it into a "bodega" (a grocery store). On the weekends, he rearranged the furniture and opened up the house to hold dances, during which he sold booze and food.

My husband recalls that ethics was not a major consideration in his father's business transactions. He sold booze during prohibition. (It's interesting that he was neve a drinker himself.) He passed himself off as some kind of doctor and made and sold "medicine" to folks in the more remote parts of the island, who were even poorer than himself. He would often laugh when he reminisced about this and exclaim, "Hey, you wouldn't believe it but many people actually felt better after taking my sugary remedy." I'm sure. Healing comes from within and is often guided by suggestion. I can hope that after all, he did no harm.

After moving to New York, still searching for that carrot, he worked in a factory for a week. But, taking orders from a boss was not his style and, of course, he quit and decided to pursue his dream. The bumps on that business seeking roller coaster were steep and hard. But, he managed to own and sell many bodegas in the Bronx and Brooklyn, he owned a gypsy cab, he sold clothes, candy, food, whatever seemed lucrative at the time. Like a gambler, sometimes he made money but most often he lost, for in spite of his strong desire and his cunning style, he seemed to make poor decisions that often led to what many would consider failure. When he was older he very reluctantly caved in to his wife's pleas. He gave up business ventures and accepted a job as a maintenance man in a nursery school in the Bronx. He made the best of it.

Retirement was spent in New Mexico, a place he had never even heard of until my husband and I moved here. He lived modestly but considered himself a rich man. He found religion and became an admired leader in his church community.

I've only given you details, but he was more than the sum of these facts. He had an inner joy that was infectious. The day before he died he kidded with his hospice nurse. His grandchildren loved his silliness, adults loved his presence - so full of joy. He loved being a comedian. It seems that laughter nourished his soul.

I had a great relationship with Bacho. I became the daughter he never had and he became my surrogate father.

My husband has been talking about him a lot lately. Bacho's memory has been haunting him too. Someday my husband may write a book about him. I left so much out and there's so much more to tell.

If I had to describe him in one word it would be... paradoxical - loving, kind, at the end religious and moral even, yet he had a red hot temper, was determined as a bull and his morality seemed to often take second place to his innate and instinctive impulse to try and get one over on the other guy. He was fully human.

I love you Bacho.

Bacho playing Dominoes, Puerto Rico's national passtime. About a year before he died.

FAMILY -THE PATH TO ENLIGHTENMENT?

In my neighborhood it's not unusual to see families of quail bouncing around the terrain looking for their next meal. Often one can also see them crossing the street with one parent on either end trying to ensure safety, as the little ones file one by one playfully traipsing along and gawking curiously at this mysterious world they are barely discovering.

The young stay with their parents during their first summer, then of course, the parents let them go to forage by themselves, and eventually raise their own families. Sound familiar?

Family is on my mind. Busily and happily I baby proof the house as much as possible, I shop for the foods I think are their favorites, I clean and scrub until even Mr. Clean would be out of a job, and I cook ... as best I can. The kids, which I lovingly call my daughter, her husband and the baby, are visiting. I'm in a festive mood anticipating the enjoyment of seeing all of baby's newest antics and spending quality time with the little family that brings me so much joy.

My mind, which is rarely at rest, has begun to ponder: "Isn't this one of your biggest attachments?" it asks, trying to elicit some guilt or closely associated feeling of ...what? What ever happened to seeking detachment, to living in the moment? Here you are day dreaming about all the fun you're going to have in the future, and what's more you are definitely, hopelessly attached to those ordinary people you consider so special." It has been said before, the mind is a dangerous thing.

~

I don't associate with any particular religion, but as a philosophy, Buddhism resonates within me. It seems to echo, or I guess, I echo many of its teachings and detachment is a major one. Yet, I am attached to my family and do not foresee that I will stop any time soon, mostly because I'm not sure I want to.

I love loving my family. I think the love I feel for the Kids, comes closest to anything I will ever be able to call true, unconditional love. I strongly suspect I am not alone. I watch my daughter tend to her baby boy, often with disregard for her own physical momentary needs. I read "mommy blogs", mostly to remind me of the days that once were, and I notice that the love these Moms feel for their little ones filters through their words, regardless of their chosen topic. Their love is in the spaces.

~

Attachments cause our suffering. No need to tell parents that. But if enlightenment is the achievement of "no self" then perhaps parenthood, in any form, may be a great path towards that goal. I have never experienced a more selfless love. And though I am still attached, I must give myself credit for at least following the natural progression of life, which is indeed a gradual letting go... of everything.

I did let my little one go to school. Sadness overwhelms me when I think of the tiny hand that I reluctantly released, to touch the world alone, without me. It was the preview of all the letting go of her that I would have to do throughout my life, until I realised I can't. For now, at least, I won't.

I hope I'm right...that parenthood is a good path towards enlightenment. Buddha is said to have returned to his family, after leaving them to seek and find his Truth. I've never heard that he was spiritually demoted for going back to loving them.

Clearly, I have much still to learn. There is a demarcation that differentiates between love and attachment. Sadly, I am no Boddhisattva (enlightened being). Enlightenment may come some day, but in my present moment, I'm soooooooo happy my Kids are coming and I'm proceeding with the preparations.