There has to come a time in your life when you make peace with something
                that you will never be able to explain nor understand. When you feel
                      the broken pieces inside you come together. Not in the same
                                form as before it was broken. But a new form.
                            A new piece to your soul that you carry on with.  
                                                                                                                                                       ~J.V. Manning


I have had a memory montage playing in my head today. Off and on at random times. Stills flashing one right after another. All starring my mom. Some of the images have a sepia color to them, an aged appearance. Memories from long ago. Some are newer, fresher.  Some of them have accompanying audio. Flashes of conversations had, music and laughter. I focus today on that, the laughter. The silliness. The jokes. The happy. 
There are 2 particularly prominent montages. In both of them she has the same expression on her face. A twinkle in her eye and the appearance of completeness. 

I am sitting on the front porch of our house. It sometime in the late nineties. The sun is shinning and there are big poofy white clouds in the sky. The colors of the surrounding trees a rich green. The lawn lush and full. I hear the deep guttural sound of a motorcycle off in the distance. As the sound gets louder I look down the street. Motorcycles were not really common in our neighborhood.  I look at this bike as it comes closer and I am stunned. It is my mother. On a motorcycle! By herself. I find myself rooted to the ground as I stare in wonder. Not so much at the fact of her riding the bike. But simply the expression on her face.  Gone were the worry lines. Gone was the sadness. Her eyes lost that haunted look and were shinning. She was smiling- really smiling. For the first time in my memory she looked free. The pride she had in that moment. The strength and the happy, will forever been burned into my memory. She had found something in life finally that have given it to her. The freedom she had longed for. She rode that bike like she had been doing it for years. Each time with that same expression. When she rode, her mind cleared. It was her, the bike and the open road. It settled her. It made her happy. For a brief moment in time she held on to that.  

The second memory comes  a few years later. The time with the bike had abruptly come to an end.   She no longer wanted it. She suddenly decided to sell it. The period that followed was a long one for her.  Back was the haunted look, the smile that never really reached her eyes.  Until one day she decided to buy a new car. She was spontaneous at times. Suddenly getting an idea in her head and jumping on it. I will never forget this day either. She went off and traded in her SUV.  She came home that day with a brand new, fuchsia Mustang convertible. She had that same expression on her face. Looking back now I understand it more. Both the motorcycle and the convertible gave her the one thing in life she needed most. Freedom. Wind in your hair, speeding down the road with no destination in sight and no where to be. She would turn the music up loud, turn her mind down and just drive. Her face would clear, worry lines fade and she would smile. Really smile. Though it never lasted. For a brief moment in time she was happy.

Today I do not want to focus on the fact that she is gone. I don't want to feel the sadness, nor the anger. I do not want to focus on anything but the good. The singing made up lyrics to songs as we drove around in that convertible. Banging on closed doors as we went by to illicit a scream of surprise followed by uncontrollable laughter. How she called me kid even when I was well beyond. How she found peace on her riding lawn mower of all places. How she was to strangers she met and the random acts of kindness she would do.  How when she was working at the Maine Gift store we had for years, she would hide little trinkets in a customers bag that was having a hard day. Today I want to remember her with that look she had on her face the day she came home on her motorcycle. Happy. Content. Free. So alive. I want to remember the laughter. For today I want to lock away the memories of her illness. I want the memory montages to be of happy times. I want to feel the warmth of those times. 

Had my mom made the decision to live, she would be 58 today.  Though impossible to send her birthday wishes. I still find myself sitting on my deck, faced turned to the sun and sending her wishes of peace. Of freedom. I wish with everything I have that she is now content. Though no longer of this world, she will always be of us. In our memories. In our lives and in our hearts. For today, this is what I hold on to. Maybe as a birthday gift to her, it is what I will hold on to forevermore. 

There has to come a time in your life when you make peace with something that you will never be able to explain nor understand. When you feel the broken pieces inside you come together. Not in the same form as before it was broken. But a new form. A new piece to your soul you carry on with. Maybe today that is what I give her for her birthday.  I scatter all the broken pieces around. Pick and chose the ones that mean the most. Create a new piece that fits into the hole she left.  Choosing pieces of memories that show her at her best. Put the pieces together and make sense out of something that on its own never will.   

This will be my birthday present to her.  A patchwork of memories that lives inside my soul. That will always be a part of me.  Filing that hole she left with love, humor and a part of her soul.  It feels peaceful to me when I look up at the sky now. The sun shines alittle brighter. 

I make a silent birthday wish to her, a secret whisper.  

                Sometimes life is messy. It knocks you down, breaks your heart and

                                Sometimes in life the only response is a facepalm. 
                                       For some things there are just no words. 
                                                                                                                                                  ~J.V. Manning


We have all had this experience. For some of us it is a daily occurrence.  That moment in your day when you are forced to deal with a situation or person and you find yourself totally and completely without words. They open their mouth to speak, do something so ignorant; that the only proper response is a facepalm. Usually a facepalm is accompanied by a slight shaking of the head and a closing of the eyes. A brief respite in time when one hopes that when one opens their eyes the cause of said facepalm has either disappeared or magically became intelligent. Never works. 

Words are my thing. Snappy comebacks and sarcastic retorts, second nature. But there are days when even I am at a loss. It tends to be the same people over and over again that force me to introduce my palm to my face. Occasionally a stranger or someone I come across in my day with elicit one. But it is normally the usual suspects. People that make me want to shout at the top of my lungs-"Realllllly?"   Followed by the urge to ask them how they survive the day. Snarky. I know. But some people seriously bring it out.  I feel like you are reading this and laughing. You have a face palmer too, don't ya?

These people consistently make my days seem to last so much longer. They make my head hurt.  I question how they made it this far. Normally the type of person that causes a facepalm tends to view themselves as intelligent, witty and well.. right. All the time. They concoct ideas, views and arguments. They get in your face and tell you all the reasons that they are right.  You look at them, cock your head sideways and think to yourself.. I hear sounds coming out of your mouth but I think you sound like the teacher from Charlie Brown.. WaaawaaaWaaWaaa Waa.. is all I hear. They walk away and you are forced to do it. Face meet palm. 

If you are lucky you can find humor in these situations. I know some people that make me facepalm all the time. One in particular. There is no humor there. Well sometimes I will laugh at this particular person. I am actually afraid to open my mouth. (Sometimes that brain to mouth filter of mine doesn't work so well.)  I often want to call out the cause of my facepalm. But figure it's a waste of words, of breath and well thought processes.  

May you get through the rest of your week without having to introduce your face to your palm. I know. I know. Wishful thinking. But shake your head and find the humor in it. 

                                    What does the world you want to live in look like?
                                                                                                                                                     ~Sue Fitzmaurice


I am always writing in my head. Some times these thoughts make it here, sometimes they end up scribbled on a note pad. Sometimes I will see something, experience something or read something that strikes right at my Muse and shakes her up a bit. I love questions that make me think.  The above quote is from the creator of Trying God's Patience, an inspirational Facebook page. She is also a published author, mentor and friend. I have come to value her insights, her poignant remarks and tough attitude. I love that she makes me think, she makes me mad and she makes me want to be better. I love that she challenges me and does not even realize it.  I love that she wants to help me be better. A better writer, creator and editor. ( I have a thing for commas) What I admire most is that she makes me think. She challenges me and with a simple question- "What does the world you want to live in look like" she sets my Muse on fire and away I go. 

What does the world you want to live in look like? I closed my eyes. I challenged my perceptions and my wants and tried to really see the world I am working so hard to create for myself and my family. The first 10 things that popped into my head where of what I didn't want to look at in my world. Then on to things I wanted, dreamed of and wished for.  I let my thoughts go. Then,  abruptly they came to a screeching halt and I could almost feel that muse of mine sitting there shaking her head at me. Took me long enough to figure it out. 

I want my world to look exactly as it does. I want the sunshine and the storms. I want the bitter cold and hotter than hell heat. I want happiness and rainbows. I want sadness and pain. I want all of it. The good, the bad and the ugly. Because what I want to see when I look at my world is balance. Love and hate. I want my past. I want my present. I want my future. My history led me here, my present is shaping it and my future will take me where I need to be. None of this would have happened if my world wasn't exactly as it is. I wouldn't be me.  You have to have some sadness to truly appreciate that happiness. You have to lose to realize the importance of what you gain. You have to struggle, because how will you know when you have arrived on the other side.  You have to face challenges and life lessons to become strong and confident. You have to face certain truths to learn about the most important person in your world. You. 

I know I want more color in my life. I want less of playing it safe and more of taking chances. I want solitude and I want to be out there. I want experience and I want knowledge. But most important of all, I want balance. 

What does the world you want to live in look like?