The day before I turned 59, I’d just arrived at my brother and sister-in-law’s house after the five hour drive to the coast of Georgia, where I’d spent most of the summer as our father’s illness took a southward turn and he’d joined our mother in Heaven. I am blessed beyond measure that my brother and I get along so well and share a bond that is rooted in caring deeply about each other and honoring the wishes of our parents – and a sister-in-law I wouldn’t trade for the world. After my brother’s many years of waiting for his soul mate, she’s that long-awaited life partner who, while grieving her own father’s loss two months before ours, is helping steer our ship and keeping us focused on what lies ahead. Ken and Jennifer greeted me and helped me bring in my bags – the suitcase and clothes for deep cleaning Dad’s house. I’d had just enough time to hug them hello and pour a glass of Riesling before logging on to meet with a group of writing friends.
At our monthly small-group Stafford Challenge writers’ Zoom in July, my friend Barb Edler of Iowa introduced our writing topic that evening. Here we were ~ Glenda Funk in Idaho, Denise Krebs in California, Barb Edler in Iowa, and me in Georgia – connecting the state dots in a wonky square on the map but connecting squarely with each other after years of writing friendship. We know each other better than most friends who see each other day because ink is our family bloodline ~ we’re writers and readers of each others’ lives. So when Barb brought out the Writing Down the Bones Card Deck by Natalie Goldberg, she gave us a license to pour out onto the page whatever was on our minds.
The card said, “Begin with ‘I’m thinking of…’ and every time you get stuck, simply come back again to ‘I’m thinking of’ and keep going.”
We did, and we shared. I expressed how much I enjoyed those cards, and a few days later, Barb asked if she could get them for me for my birthday. Since Amazon Prime Days had rolled around, I’d already ordered them, so I confessed I’d bought the set for myself as a gift. Imagine my surprise when a few days later, a box arrived at the door. Barb knows my affinity for postcards and garden fairies, and here was a gift of sheer delight to bring joy to my spirit. I placed the fairies in the front porch plants and began coloring one of the peace-bringing adult coloring postcards designed to help regulate breathing and give the mind rest.
Today, a listish prose poem of all the things I’m thinking of……
I'm Thinking Of
I'm thinking of how my brother and I showed up at Probate Court and the one who gave us the oath noticed that we weren't like all the rest because she said our deep care for each other was visible, not like those fighting ones who get mad if the other gets more than they do ~ and I'm thinking of how I was deeply touched that she could see that my brother and I are more focused on making new memories together, us and our spouses, than quarreling over a set of dishes neither of ever intends to actually use because we'd rather be cruising around Iceland with just a carry-on bag in a pair of familiar blue jeans and worn tennis shoes than having holes in our hearts at our own tables, pouring coffee from an antique Pyrex stovetop percolator that isn't even practical and having no one to remember our lives with. I'm thinking of how now, we're who each other has to remember all the history.
I'm thinking of when my sister in law popped around the corner of the sofa with a birthday cake with my name on it, and she and my brother sang Happy Birthday to me, knowing full well that even spending the day cleaning Dad's house and busting our asses and being sore, there was nowhere I'd rather be that day than with them, even if we weren't out exploring the world making new memories. Because these, too, were new memories - the cleaning and cussfests about all the stuff, all the stuff, all the random impractical collectibles and moldy books, and the sweat and grime of togetherness - this, too, is its own adventure and memory that will never be forgotten.
I'm thinking of how my writing sisters, the three I meet with monthly and the others I call or who write in different circles with, know me better than the people I see every day because the book is always better than the movie, and with writing relationships people know exactly how you feel and what you're thinking in a way that the face to face ones just have to guess about why you raise one eyebrow from time to time or massage your right temple, never really knowing why and never even asking. I'm thinking of how we read each other's blogs and are such an eclectic mix of personalities from vastly different walks of life with trauma, sadness, blessing, empathy, understanding, passion, and soft spots of the heart that draw us together as humans and fascinate us about our worlds, and yet how at the end of the day, we are as alike as it gets, as writers. Just like how Maya Angelou explained us in The Human Family. We are more alike, my friends, than we are unalike. Maya knew. She knew.
I'm thinking of how much more there is to write about and how just this one card conjures every invitation, every memory, to want to be unfolded and to flow from brain to screen as this is happening now, right through my fingertips tapping out the rhythms of life on an Apple MacBook Air keyboard that really is the conduit to healing in all forms, this thinking and tapping and pausing for breath of thought........
And I'm wondering what others are thinking of today and whether they need a card with a prompt to invite them to share, and whether someone would call 911 if I picked a random stranger in WalMart and walked up and asked them what they were thinking of and they said they were thinking I was insane so I needed to be apprehended and taken in for questioning.
I'm thinking of all those things and more......
Common Threads 