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When I mention that I was raised by nuns people look at me funny, like I just confessed that I grew up with wolves. It’s true though, I spent ten years in a boarding school that was part of a convent of the Salesian Sisters.
Tag: <span>memory</span>
January is almost over and I still haven’t written my review of the year we just left behind. I don’t like walking backward into the future but feel I would if I don’t lay last year down to rest as a memory. It was an eventful year. Twelve months full of challenges, successes, and failures. Great movies and wonderful books were part of my journey, as were plastic bottles and dirty tubs.
The name of the author is the first to go
followed obediently by the title, the plot,
the heartbreaking conclusion, the entire novel
which suddenly becomes one you have never read,
never even heard of,
How could a simple question throw me into such a turmoil? “What did you have for breakfast?” my husband wanted to know and my brain went totally blank. “Did I have breakfast?” Yes, I am sure I did, probably a green smoothie or maybe a gluten-free toast with a slice of Italian prosciutto, the cheap brand from Aldi’s.
But I couldn’t remember. As hard as I tried, nothing came up.
Mother’s Day seems quite harmless. You invite your mother to brunch, buy flowers, maybe even some chocolates and you enjoy good times together.
But the history of this modern holiday is marked by a rampage of conflicts, controversies, and consumerism. Mother’s Day has a dark side and who other than someone like me- who doesn’t celebrate Mother’s Day- should point it out.
Going back in time, I recall our short vacations in Italy. Remember, I was born and raised >>>here<<<. Right after lunch, before the shops closed during the hot afternoons, one of us kids was sent to a magazine stand to pick up a German or Austrian newspaper, which by then was three days old. We lived! Nothing was so dramatic back then.
Every time I see a boat, my mind wanders back to that night.
We had been dancing, and guys we knew had invited us to a special, nightly cruise on a boat.
Of course, we went, and all was fine for a while. Then the flirting stopped, and the guys told us that this special cruise came with special demands -demands we were not willing to fulfill.
Gone From My Sight
I am standing upon the seashore. A ship, at my side,
spreads her white sails to the moving breeze and starts
for the blue ocean. She is an object of beauty and strength.
I stand and watch her until, at length, she hangs like a speck
of white cloud just where the sea and sky come to mingle with each other.
Then, someone at my side says, “There, she is gone.”
Gone where?
Gone from my sight. That is all. She is just as large in mast,
hull and spar as she was when she left my side.
And, she is just as able to bear her load of living freight to her destined port.
Her diminished size is in me — not in her.
And, just at the moment when someone says, “There, she is gone,”
there are other eyes watching her coming, and other voices
ready to take up the glad shout, “Here she comes!”
And that is dying…
Henry Jackson Van Dyke
I had been hungry for Boudin all week long, and finally, yesterday I had gotten them out of the freezer. A box of hot jalapeno Boudin for they guys and another box of regular Boudin for the ladies. I was careful when I opened the packages, made sure I didn’t mix them up, even used different plates when I thawed them.
When A Comment Opens The Floodgates
Sharing and opening up in the comments section happens often by accident. I sometimes wonder if I am the only one who starts writing a remark and then gets carried away?
Just Sharing
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