In Aunt Helen's House

In Aunt Helen’s house, time seemed to pause in its endless journey, as if lulled into forgetting its usual sense of urgency.

Pale afternoon sun would arc across warm, wood floors and come to rest in the folds of a cardigan draped loosely over a chair. Logs would crackle gently in the  fire, filling the air with a familiarity that declared this was home.

The first thing one noticed about Helen was that each and every day of life was an adventure, a cause to exclaim, “Well, isn’t life wonderful”.

 At ninety-seven, she still  lived alone, yet she never had to fear feeling lonely. Family and friends, (of the two-legged and four-legged kind) dropped by daily to soak up the atmosphere of contentment in a life well-lived that Helen and her surroundings exuded. There was always a bracing drink for the humans and cheese and biscuits for the many dogs embraced as loving friends now that her days of pet ownership were behind her.

 

 With time, she weakened and could no longer get around as well as before...but she still missed little and continued to greet each day with anticipation.

 From her wing chair by the fire, Helen would tilt eagerly toward visitors. “Now tell me what you did today, dear,” she’d encourage us, her interest genuine, her focus centered on the response.   

When questioned about her own day, she’d beam widely and talk about the history article she’s just read, or give us her take on the latest news story. 


Of course, conversations inevitably came back to the widespread family she adored. It was clear we were all of us cherished.

 Helen’s life is the standard by which I’ve begun to gauge my own journey. I may or may not manage to write the book I’ve talked about for years, or finish getting my Fine Arts degree. Other interests may prevail, obstacles will no doubt demand my time and attention. 


But if I live each day to its fullest, and find joy in every one of them, as she did, I will be content. 

To the best of my ability, I want to be present in each moment , and if I’m fortunate enough to share my days with the people and animals I love, then I too will be able to say, “Isn’t life wonderful!”

We lost our beloved matriarch this weekend, when her tired body gave up the fight and led her to Heaven,  but we will forever bask in the light of grace that blessed those of us fortunate enough to be taken into her boundless heart.

Now it is in our hearts that she will rest with us always.

We loved you immeasurably, Helen. We will always remember your kindness, your generosity of spirit and your capacity to wring the best out of each day even when it seemed impossible. 

We will do our best to embrace life with the same vigour you did, and when we meet again, it will be to sit once more by a crackling fire and exchange the stories of our lives...

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D is for Dog

Dogs have always been a part of my life. In my six and a half decades, I can count in months the times I have been without one.

This is the story of our girl Meeghan...

We  went into the pet shop to look...just look. 

Our beloved Yorkshire Terrier had died just three weeks previously, and a  large piece  of my heart had died along with Angel. I knew I could not bear to go through that pain again...I was done with dogs.

Angel

The shop was bursting with puppies that day – chubby, fluffy  wee dogs that did their bouncing best to get our attention. I barely glanced at them. Lost in thoughts of Angel, I was numb to the possibility of beginning again.

Turning to leave, we spied a scruffy black bundle cowered silently against the window while a much larger pup bounded on and around her. I caught her timid glance and felt something stir in me despite myself.  Michael asked them to bring her out, and once the shaky wee soul was in my arms, I was lost. The shopkeeper explained that this little one had been rescued from a puppy mill. As the ragged body pushed into me fearfully, he described the first three months of her life spent caged, unloved and filthy from lying in her own dirt. She was severely underfed, weighing only four pounds. I could feel every rib, every notch on her backbone...

There was no  considered decision to say yes or no; of course we could not leave her there. It was clear that she needed us. Even clearer to me, was the truth that we needed her.

Because it was St. Patrick's Day, we named our new girl Meeghan. Matted, dull-eyed and underfed, she was traumatized and fearful of everything.

As it turned out, I did not have to wait long for the pain I'd been trying to avoid. On the complimentary vet check provided, Meeghan was quickly diagnosed with a heart murmur...she had congenital heart disease that would prove fatal. The vet calmly suggested that we return her for a refund as she would almost certainly die  in a matter of months, if not weeks. It went without saying that since she couldn't be sold again, she would be euthanized, but not to worry, he went on...there were lots of cute and healthy dogs to choose from.

Meeghan had been mine for two days and  it was all the time we needed to bond. I was the first person to hold her. She trusted me from the start and I cherished her in return. There was no way I would give up on this little dog who'd never had a real chance at life. 

We immediately took her to our own vet, hoping for a miracle. He confirmed the diagnosis of Patent Ductus Arteriosus or PDA.

In humans and animals, a miniscule blood vessel that supplies oxygen to the lungs in utero should close at birth when the lungs fill with air. When it does not, the result is PDA, a condition that overworks the heart, fills the lungs with fluid and leads to congestive heart failure.

With Meeghan, her weakness and shortness of breath were all too obvious. She curled up beside my head on the pillow for safety and I lay every night with the sound of her speeding heart thrumming in my ear.

Our gentle vet offered two options: we could shower Meeghan with  love and attention...make her life joyous for the short time left before her heart gave out on her. Alternately, he could do open-heart surgery to try to close an incredibly small valve in a risky operation he'd done only twice before. The surgery would cost several thousand dollars and the chances were good she would not survive.

Neither my husband nor I hesitated for a moment. We had no idea how we could come up with the money, but we could either watch Meeghan suffer through a painful illness and die before she'd really lived...or put our faith in a doctor whose skill and compassion has been well proven. We simply had to give her a chance. 

The details aren't important, 

though it must be mentioned

that this wonderful

 veterinarian ended up 

charging us only a 

nominal fee for this 

complicated surgery. 

What matters most is that

 she survived the

 risky procedure and

 ultimately flourished.

 Four years later, she is a bouncy, 
spirited dog who loves her life 

and wrings joy out 

of every day!

She remains a scruffy girl in 

spite of constant grooming. 

As the runt of a Schnoodle  litter, 
she can enter no conformation 
shows.  Nor can we try 
for obedience or agility trials...our 

lackluster training skills being 
more to blame for a lack in

 that area than her obvious,

innate cleverness. 

No matter...we need

no certificate 

to know she's beautiful 

inside and out.

Meeghan is still hand-shy  

-she was clearly mistreated-

 ...is timid with strangers and rarely leaves my side. Her eyes search my face often in a day as if to reassure herself I'm still there. While she loves the rest of the family, there is no question she is my girl...we adore each other unreservedly.

Yes, my heart may be broken again one day, but I will always cherish this small saviour  who helped lift me from the depths of despair  when it seemed an impossibility...a precious companion who enriches my life immeasurably each day by her sweet and simple presence.

I am linking up to the wonderful ABC Wednesday. For a real treat, stop by to see more stories and pics from around the world...

http://abcwednesdaymrsnesbitt.blogspot.ca/

I will be away the week this is posted, but will get back to everyone as soon as I can...

Mothers and Madness

I recently unearthed some pieces written twenty-five years ago and left to neglect. I decided this one was amusing enough to share with other mothers who have found themselves suffused with frustration, exhaustion and a love that's stronger than anything else in the world!

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Mothers and Madness

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I’m not saying that children cause brain damage, but in my case there is indisputable evidence that brainpower has been seriously diminished since the onset of motherhood.

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Before the birth of my first child, I was a sharp productive woman who could make decisions and follow them through with resolution. Thirteen years later, I need a solid hour to decide between fresh and frozen peas for dinner; and resolution is only a word I’m unable to spell when one of my children asks me.

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Once a woman who moved with flair and delivered speeches with aplomb, I now stumble about with all the grace of an alcoholic moose, and seem incapable of stringing together a sentence any toddler could master.

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I suppose it’s not surprising. What brain could really be expected to hold out against the baby blues and the terrible twos? One mind-numbing childhood phase leads invariably into another; the cycle has been set in motion!

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On reflection, I can see that the change from superwoman to idiot took place so insidiously that there was no way it could have been avoided. I went from interviewing applicants for the job I was vacating, to hours spent babbling nursery rhymes to a wide-eyed creature who never seemed to tire of my attention.
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Suits gave way to jeans; trade journals to baby magazines. Executive lunches were replaced by creamed spinach, and weary midnight mutterings pushed aside witty repartee as if it had never existed.

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Today, the transformation is complete. While the children have developed and grown, there has been no indication that my brain will return to its previous level of functioning. Indeed, judging by the snickers and outright guffaws that result each time I open my mouth, I have reason to believe that further deterioration has been noted.

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In spite of it all, some small flicker of hope remains alive in me. I do have days when everything comes together, and I allow myself to trust that the brain damage might be reversible.

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But that will be the same day one son brings home his lunch bag and smugly pulls out the mustard jar I packed instead of a sandwich; and the other one responds with hysterical laughter when I suggest that I might have something to contribute at his school’s career day.
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It’s daunting how quickly one’s hopes can be dashed. Yet, I need only keep in mind one of life’s certainties; children do leave home in the end.

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The brain damage may be more extensive than I’d imagined. I’m almost sure I’m going to miss them…

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My darling Jules, Nik and J.J....always remember that I love the three of you dearly...the joy you have brought to my life is beyond all measure.

Julian loves parties

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J.J. with our girl Meeghan

My baby sister Nikki is just another one of my kids

A Love Limerick

A romantic young fellow named Will

Loved a sweet girl so badly he’d kill.

Her husband he shot,

But she would love him not,

And now poor Will is all alone still!
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 I'm linking up to three sites today.

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Poets United Thursday Think Tank prompt is 'love'. You will definitely find more love on this page...

http://poetryblogroll.blogspot.com/2011/03/thursday-think-tank-42-love.html#more

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And do check out Theme Thursday, where we're asked to contribute something silly today...

http://themethursday.blogspot.com/

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I also heartily advise you to head over to Mad Kane's site. It is with her inspiring prompt that I have penned my first limerick...

http://www.madkane.com/humor_blog/2010/05/12/romance-limerick/

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Remembering Angel...Repost

Because today is the anniversary of a

beloved friend's passing, I am reposting this piece to affirm that love is the one thing that never dies....

We only had eleven years to share with our beloved Yorkshire Terrier, but they were years we will always cherish. Angel was a delight to us...so bright...so loving and sweet. She adored us with every fibre of her being and wanted nothing more than to share her life with us. We are so very grateful that she did...

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We chose Angel from a kennel in Revelstoke, knowing as soon as we met her that she would become part of our family. On the long drive home to Surrey, she lay content in my arms, the beat of my heart soothing her in sleep and bonding her to us so easily it was clearly meant to be. She had been named Angel because she was a scrappy little devil, full of mischief and play. We kept the name because surely if there are angels, they would come in the form of this most loving of companions.

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She was everything you could ask for in a friend: funny... feisty... loyal...and always there when comfort and unconditional love were what was needed. I like to think we enriched her life as bountifully as she did ours, but I don't believe any of us shone as brilliantly as she did.
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Angel has been gone for three years now, and it has been difficult to move on without her. Quite unexpectedly, we found another little soul who needed us as much we needed her, and we are dog guardians one more. With a boundless capacity for love, our hearts can always find room to accept more...but for all time, there will be a special place in each of us reserved for the joy that was Angel.

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We love you, Angel...we miss you terribly... and will never forget you and the blessing you brought to our lives. You were the best girl in the world...

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A Thankful Haiku

Our thanks bestow on
the children of the world, who
teach us how to love…

I was fortunate enough to spend time with these wonderful children while visiting a Masai village in Kenya in 2006. Like youngsters everywhere, they were giggly, shy, curious and keen to be noticed.
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While families had little in the way of material possessions, the children were bursting with joy, eager to embrace the excitement each day brings. I was humbled by their spirit, and am still learning to be grateful for what I have, instead of pining for what I lack...

I am linking this post to Poets United Thursday Think Tank. This week's prompt is 'thanfulness', something we surely have in abundance. To see more poems about gratitude, do check out the link below:
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http://poetryblogroll.blogspot.com/2010/11/thursday-think-tank-25-thankfulness.html

A Love Story...

My marriage began with an elopement..

In the Sixties, twenty-one was the age to marry without parental consent in Canada. While I was of age, Michael had just turned twenty. From the beginning, our partnership was not treasured by either set of parents…in fact there was little common ground for either family to understand the other at all. My Irish emigrant parents were much too fond of whisky, and loved a loud, resounding fight…Michael’s parents had a glass of good wine with dinner and never, ever raised their voices.
.November 12th, 1968

My parents each had to leave school as young teenagers to help support their families in poverty-ravaged Belfast…Michael’s parents were university-educated professionals of some note. The chasm between our perspective realities grew ever wider as we got to know each other. When invited to Michael’s for a meal, I was flustered by the plethora of cutlery spread out before me, and struggled not to gag at the sight of bloody red meat floating on its fine china platter. When coming to my house for dinner, Michael did not immediately recognize the shriveled gray lump on his plate as roast beef, and seemed puzzled that it was served on TV trays in front of the hockey game. The two households were polar opposites in terms of culture, economics, social standing and stability.

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It was no real surprise then, when our announced plan to marry after dating for a year hit a hard wall of resistance. What started out as flat refusal grudgingly eased on my parents’ part when I rose above my normally timid nature and made it clear this was what I wanted, though dire warnings of certain regret were rained upon me night after night without fail. Michael’s parents held out longer, but finally, unhappily agreed to give their consent when it was clear we were going ahead. We planned a very small wedding, immediate family only as all my relatives were overseas, and my future in-laws did not see it as an occasion to celebrate. I bought a pretty white dress…we looked at apartments, and lined up a minister at our local Anglican church.

A week before the wedding was to take place, Michael’s mum and dad rescinded, protesting they could not in all conscience condone this farce of a marriage that would never last. They would not sign the consent forms after all.

.Africa , 2007, after a hot-air balloon ride over the Serengeti.

We were in love; we’d bought furniture, rented an apartment…we eloped, flying from Vancouver to Detroit to be married in the City Hall by a Justice of the Peace, because it was the only place we knew with a lower age restriction. It would be nice to say that things improved markedly after that, but such was not the case. It was a number of years before the bitterness between the families softened, and life took on some normalcy. It was definitely not an ideal way to start a marriage. Eventually, gaps were bridged, bonds were formed and our children could have both sets of grandparents in a room together, but a heavy price was paid to get to there…

That was forty-two years ago today, and if I had to, I would do it all again in a minute! I’m blessed to be married to my kind and funny best friend; a man who is truly one of the good guys, someone who consistently goes out of his way to help others and has the gentlest nature of anyone I know. Of course we’ve had our ups and downs as couples do, but not for a minute have I regretted tying my life to his.

For four decades, we have laughed and loved…lived a full life together with all the joy, sorrow and wonderment that building a family entails. It has been an amazing ride and I hope for many more years to share with him..

We staged a quick photo shoot the evening after returning from Detroit, so I might get to wear my little wedding dress at least once, and have pictures to remember the day. It is still a strange mix of emotions I experience when looking at these photos, our obvious delight in each other tempered by so many conflicting factors. But one can’t dwell on what might have been, and while ours is not a traditional love story with the fairy tale wedding and the happily-ever-after, we have made our own story and it is a good one.
You continue to be my hero, Michael. I admire your compassionate heart, your sense of justice and your ability to see what truly matters in the world…and it is no small thing that you still make me laugh more easily than anyone else I’ve ever met.

I will love you forever…
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A Water Haiku

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Like the waters of

a stream, your love rubs smooth the

edges of my life...

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I'm linking this post to the Thursday Think Tank Prompt at Poets United. For more poetry, please check out their link...

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http://poetryblogroll.blogspot.com/2010/08/thursday-think-tank-prompt-12.html

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Second Star To The Right

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Deep in the woods where fairies play, there's magic to be found,

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Come take a peek...but be quite still,

and utter not a sound.

Behind this gate and down the

winding path we’ll make our way,
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And there we will see wonders that

see not the light of day.

On moonlit nights while we’re abed,

the forest does not rest
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For midnight is the special time

that pixies like the best.



At first, there’s stillness all around,

and then there comes a light.

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And if we’re quiet and careful, we may see amazing sights.
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The air will come to life with thrumming sounds of tiny wings,
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Then wonderment will steal our breath, and show us many things.

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The creatures of the night come out to celebrate their joys,
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And share delights of friendship, seldom seen by girls and boys

The Frog Prince offers tea, the

Cheshire Cat grins ear to ear.

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The trill of fairy voices is a joyous

sound to hear.
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All through the hours of darkest night, the magic weaves its spell,
And we’ll see secret things that we won’t ever get to tell.
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For who would dare believe such things as fairies might be seen,
Though we’ll hold in our heart of hearts the wondrous place we’ve been.



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We'll want to laugh, it's all such

fun,

but silence we must keep,

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Until the morning light across the

treetops starts to creep.

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With tired yawns, the little ones curl up their baby wings,
And seek their woodland beds, wrapped up in thoughts of splendid things.

We’ll steal away ourselves, amazed

at all that we have seen,

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And in the glaring light of day,

it might seem like a dream.

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But wait…hold out your hand, could that be fairy dust I see?

Hush…not a word…you know the secret will be safe with me.

Another night, we’ll once more make

our

way down to the gate,

As moonlight casts its

silver glow,

and evening hours grow late.
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But sleep now, close your tired eyes, lay down your toused head,


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Let wonder be your blanket, and the world's love be your bed...
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I am linking this to Fawndear's 'Second Star To The Right' party. A resounding thank you to Fawndear for hosting this delightful event! To visit her sweet site or check out more partygoers, please click on the link below...
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http://fawndear.blogspot.com/

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Only My Dog Understands Me

I have a mug that says. 'Only My Dog Understands Me'. Most days, I believe this to be true!

I am the devoted guardian of a scruffy schnoodle named Meeghan who regards me with the same boundless adoration I shower upon her. At the end of each workday, she greets me with the excitement befitting a traveler returning from lands afar. With the simplest of looks, touches and whimpers, she and I exchange our news of the day; say “I love you”, and immediately bond anew after this separation as if we’d never been apart. I cannot say the same about the complicated people I live with and love.

Meeghan’s response is immediate and unbridled. I can be gone for an hour, a day or a week – our reunion is always the same and a joy to us both. If work has worn me down, I’m quick to head for the couch, my trusty friend eagerly at my heels. She tempts me to play with nudges and wags, and perhaps the offer of a favourite toy. She is hard to resist, and I am easily coaxed to indulgence.

When tiredness wins out, I patiently explain that I must stretch out for a while. Head tilted to the side, her ears perk up for words she might recognize. It doesn’t seem to matter what I say, in the end – she is endlessly fascinated by me as I am with her. She waits whilst I snuggle into the cushions, her tiny face intent on my every move, until- with a small, contented sigh - she curls tightly into my body, and is instantly asleep.

Our needs are simple, Meeghan’s and mine. We walk a little, play a lot, and settle in beside each other every night. Life is fairly straightforward for dogs. We provide them with food, exercise and affection – in return, they devote their entire lives to our wellbeing and protection. Such absolute love and loyalty is priceless, and is far from a common trait in humankind. Those of us lucky enough to share our lives with a canine companion know we definitely get the better end of the deal.

By my estimation, Meeghan and I will turn seventy together, two old girls needing little more than a warm fire and each other. We’ll take long walks, and longer naps. Pressed side by side on the couch, we’ll watch chickadees land on the birdfeeder outside the window, and share looks of surprise at the curious sound of squirrels scampering across the roof. Small things please us.

I look forward to sharing years with her, everything we need to know about each other understood without ever having to be put into words. So often, I look up to see her gaze upon me. There is no guile in those clear eyes, and no judgment. I am accepted unconditionally, and I am dazzled by the purity of this acceptance.

There is nothing I will not do to deserve that trust in me. Because of one small dog, I have become a better person. For that - and for her - I will be forever grateful.

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Hailu No. 3

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Alone with the wind,

I hear whispered words of love

pass from tree to tree...

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