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My View From Here

Living in the city, no matter the size, is waking in the morning to the smell and feel of fresh night air. A yawn and a stretch later, that intoxicating aroma is smothered by the sickening odor of exhaust and fumes of an awaking city full of automobiles rushing to a destination of “another day, another dollar” hoping to make ends meet in an increasingly greedy world.

Closing the window as if closing my mind to this life in the city where each house surrounding ours feels like claustrophobia crowding out the freedom I felt on the four acres that was once our home in the country. Will my longing for a return to that life ever cease?

Children’s eyes are different. They do not view life the same as adult’s eyes do. Young people see each day or each event as an opportunity for adventure. 

Recently, my grandson and his friend shared an ephemeral moment in the rain, one of those moments that was as forever memorable as it was fleeting.

Two eight-year-old boys walking in the rain, pouring from giant buckets in the clouds. They could barely see their water soaked shoes as they splashed through growing puddles on their journey toward a moment of discovery two blocks away… pipes and drains, drain fields, and rising water. How did the water get in the pipes? Why was the water rushing out of them like a firehose? How much water could the drain field hold?

Shivering, wet, and cold, yet undeterred, they returned home full of excitement and questions about their discovery, each of them barely noticing the towels their mothers wrapped around their soaking wet bodies, heads shaking the water out of their hair like puppies shaking their furry bodies, twisting and turning and wagging their tails hoping someone will pay attention to them and pet them lovingly. 

This was a moment frozen in my mind as I longed to be eight again to feel the freedom and excitement of new discoveries… even in rain-soaked clothing. Not having a care in the world other than having fun with my friend in a field in the rain. Even in the city…. Children’s eyes are different. 

I wish that at almost 60, I could relax and enjoy the freedom of discovery on a rainy afternoon like a child, and not worry about my shoes being wet, or my hair looking flat, or water dripping onto the carpet upon my return. Adults view life differently.

I’m not saying one decade of life is better or worse than another. It’s just different.  Ahhhhh….

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Snapshots of Life

The sun was dropping, the air was cooling, and the shadows were lengthening as I briskly walked around the almost two-mile loop at our community park. Several snapshots of life jumped out at me as I progressed along the path.

There were groups of small children talking, laughing, and squealing as they ran from one gym equipment piece to another. Parents were loitering around the playground equipment, visiting with other parents or keeping their eyes on their cell phones and their ears glued to the sound of the ones they were responsible for.

Opposite of them were a group of older gradeschoolers running back and forth as directed by their soccer coaches. They were listening intently and working hard. Parents were seated nearby in camp chairs they had undoubtedly carried with them from their cars in the parking lot. I wondered how many of the parents were friends outside of this practice circle. How many of the girls were friends at school or in the neighborhood? 

There was a young couple sitting on a bench. He had his arm around her. She was looking up at him, talking flirtatiously and giggling as she pulled her feet up and tucked them in under her small frame. Ahhh… young love. How did they meet? How long had they been dating? Will they end up together?

Since I was walking the opposite direction of most people I saw friends walking and talking, a middle-aged couple walking their dog, a multi generational family, and a couple in their 30’s holding hands as they walked and talked deliberately, lost to the world around them.

There was a young couple with a cute toddler girl who was having a bit of a meltdown. They were lovingly trying to comfort and console her, but she was not having it. As I walked past them and her cries faded further in the distance, I remembered that stage of parenthood and felt connected to them for a moment. Then, the moment passed, and I was grateful my children were grown.

It felt as if I was walking into the setting sun, past nastalgic snapshots of my own life’s memories, grateful for every stage along the way and even grateful for where I am today, with most of those stages of life behind me.

Sigh….

Looking forward with gratitude…that I can look behind with fondness.

Posted on by ChatterLei · 3 Comments

Photographer

Daily writing prompt
Describe the most ambitious DIY project you’ve ever taken on.
View all responses

Not a word I ever thought people would use when describing me.

It was about 19 years ago when I taught a class of women at church one evening about how to take better pictures with their own cameras. Of course, in doing so, I showed some of my pictures for examples when describing how to work with lighting, angles, zoom, etc. That evening, one of the ladies asked if I would take her daughter’s engagement pictures. I did! It was the most scary thrilling thing I had ever done! Until I shot their wedding! I was hooked. That was the beginning of my love of wedding photography.

When I am behind a camera, I am in my element. I wanted my clients to not only enjoy seeing the moments captured in an image, but to remember the expereince they had and the feelings that undoubtedly go along with remembering special moments.

I remember, when the lady from church paid me for the photography, she and her husband both asked when I was going to start charging for my photo shoots. I looked at them and asked aloud, “Could I? Do you think I am good enough?” They both smiled and said yes.

Most people who are photographers probably dreamed about it in childhood. You know, it was what they wanted to be “when the grow up.” I never had that thought. I just knew I loved taking pictures and especially capturing special moments for people. It was something I sort of fell into as an adult. It was what I grew up with. I can’t even imagine a family gathering without cameras all around.

Growing up, it was what families did. They gathered. And they took pictures. At least, my mom’s family. She had one brother and five sisters and whenever we would gather at Grandma and Grandpa’s house all of us cousins would run off to play together, then we would be called together for dinner and then family group pictures afterward. Seven people with seven cameras meant holding still in family groups for seven flashes. We have lots of family group pictures, but not so many candid pictures of the various activities. Remember the candids!

Photography is a lot of fun. Running a photography business is a lot of work. But worth it. It took hours of research (where was ChatGPT when I needed it?!) to figure out what to charge, advertising, release forms, contracts, best cameras and lenses, etc. Yes, that was the biggest DYI project I ever took on. And, the most memorable. And, the most stressful. Now I prefer to shoot stationary scenes. Not quite as stressful as shooting a young perfectionist bride, taking orders from her mother-in-law, and getting an entire wedding party together for a photo of the whole group. It’s like hearding cats. Nope. Not any more. Beaches and oceans, mountains and skies, flowers, and trees. Those are more my speed now… finding beauty in the small things.

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Enjoying Retirement

Daily writing prompt
What were your parents doing at your age?
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When my dad was my age, he was retired, as was my mom. My parents traveled to see us where we lived in the upper Midwest at the time. Those were the best years for my mom. She loved to travel, which must be where I get my love of traveling and adventure!

Numerous events happened the year my mom was my age. It was 2001. It was the one-year anniversary of my paternal grandfather’s passing. My husband was diagnosed with MS. 9/11 happened. My husband took early medical retirement in October. I quit my job in early November. We sold our house and moved back to the western side of the Rockies where my parents still lived. That was the last long trip my parents took, when they drove out to help us move back home.

My parents seemed so young and active when they were my age. I feel so aged with the stress of working full-time and my health issues. In fact, I am waiting for the results of an MRI I had done just yesterday. It seems I may be having an MS exacerbation. (Yes, my husband and I both have MS, diagnosed 10 years apart.) I have new and worsening symptoms of numbness in my feet and hands, muscle cramping and tightness, heaviness in my legs with walking, and exhaustion in the afternoons. I don’t know for sure. It may not be MS, it could just be stress. I will know for sure in a couple of days.

Anyway, I am grateful for the time and money my parents spent in traveling out to see us when we lived in Minnesota. We have many fun memories of time spent with them there. We took many walks around the parks along the Mississippi River and even took a boat ride in my husband’s boat on the Mississippi River a time or two. We have fun memories fishing, spending time at the cabin, shopping thrift stores and pottery shops, and sharing our day-to-day activities when they came and stayed with us.

I remember the first time they came out to visit us. They were not used to the humid summers in the upper Midwest. My mom mentioned more than once how strange it was to take a shower in the mornings and put on fresh clothes from the closet that felt like they were almost still “wet.” They were used to the dry desert heat back home. That was when we figured out we needed a dehumidifier. Dehumidifiers were not a necessity in the west, but they sure keep a house dry during the dog days of summer in those quaint little river towns along the Mississippi River.

Thank you for letting me share a walk down memory lane prompted by this question.

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More Time…

Daily writing prompt
What is the greatest gift someone could give you?
View all responses

with my Dad. That is not possible, so I just marinate in the memories.

Two years before Dad died, which was last January, he got Covid 19. It robbed him of his ability to smell and taste everything except tomatoes for the rest of his life. He was not in the best of health for the last several years before his passing. Mom was good to care for him for most of those years. He was mostly homebound except for the mornings he would wake up and say he wanted to drive himself and Mom over to McDonald’s for a McGriddle. He could not really taste them, but said they felt good in his mouth. He was always a breakfast guy. I suppose I am like him in that way. Breakfast is my favorite meal of the day.

Anyway…

Since Dad was mostly homebound, so was Mom. She did not get to travel like she would have liked. She did not get to eat out or go shopping much. She was home with Dad. That is just how she was and how their marriage worked. He was home, so she was home. Now that Dad is gone, she can explore more opportunities to go places. She says “yes” a lot more now.

In the last year, Mom has eaten out a few more times than ever before. She has gone to lunch with friends. She goes to her sister’s house once a month for a scripture study meeting. She went to San Diego with my sister in the spring. She is in the process of getting her passport and is planning to go on a cruise with us this year. I can hardly wait to experience that with her! As sad as we are about Dad’s passing, we are equally excited to share some of Mom’s “first-time” experiences.

In the meantime, tonight, my husband and I, my sister, her husband, their daughter, and my brother are going to take mom to Longhorn Steakhouse for dinner for her first time. She is going to love the creamy cheesy smothered chicken breast, mashed potatoes and strawberry salad.

I am grateful for the gift we have been given of this time with Mom and opportunities to explore some of the experiences with her that this life has to offer.

Posted on by ChatterLei · 3 Comments

Happy New Year

What are your biggest challenges?

Apparently, one of my biggest challenges is remembering to take pictures with my family on the holidays. It is regretful. Next year, there will be no photo that will pop up in my memories on my phone from a year ago. No photo memory of today – January 1, 2025.

The morning started with Joe washing 20 big beautiful baker-sized Idaho Potatoes, wrapping them in foil, and placing them in the electric roaster oven while I showered and get ready for the day.

He readied the 14-lb prime rib, gathered all the seasonings and other fixings, and placed the three pies we made yesterday (blueberry, cherry, and mincemeat) into the back of our pickup.

We drove around the block to my sister’s house, where we arrived at about 11AM. Joe seasoned the prime rib and had it in the 500-degree oven by 11:30AM. Ten minutes later, he turned the oven down to 325⁰ and it was perfectly done to medium rare at 2:45PM.

While the meat and potatoes cooked, six of us played Farkle. Have you ever played? It is a fun dice game for two players or more. I had never played until last week. Joe and I like playing it together in the evenings.

At one point, I noticed our teenage grandchildren were gathered at one end of the table with their phones in their hands, mostly lost in their own worlds, but every once in awhile sharing with each other a funny video they saw or some other new discovery.   At the other end of the table, the adults were visiting with one another. I wondered to myself what the grandchildren had ever taken time to learn about my mom, their great grandmother.

My first question to them was if they knew where she was born. I was a little surprised so many of them knew the answer. Then I asked what year she was born and how old she was when she and my dad were married. I asked if they knew where. Did they know how many siblings my parents each had and could they name them all. It was impressive to me that they knew so much. We then asked about my husband’s family and pulled out some photos we had of them.

We had a great day filled with fun, laughter, reminiscing, and good food. My dad started this tradition of prime rib with the family on New Years Day. We missed him for sure. But today’s time spent with family was a great start to the new year.

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So Much Love

Last night, I was making a delivery in a neighborhood I did not recognize. It seemed like several neighborhoods together covering one large area. My directions seemed to be unclear as I was driving. I pulled over to the right next to some houses and a one story small building so I could get a better idea of where I was in comparison to my destination. 

I pulled over next to a car that was parked at the end of an island. We were both perpendicular to this long island, which is located as a divider between two roads. (This was a fancy neighborhood.)

My attention was on the map on my phone when I noticed out of the corner of my eye two people exiting the building. I realized it was a hair salon and the two people walking to the car next to me were my parents!

I had gotten out of my car and walked up toward the building where I was standing in the shade talking with my mom. My dad slowly walked around the drivers side toward the back of their car and lifted the hatch so he could place his walker behind the back seat of their small SUV. He was smiling. I called out to him to be careful. I turned and smiled at my mom and noticed how nice her new haircut was. I looked back at my dad, who seemed so content.

Next thing I know, they are in their vehicle slowly driving away. I waved, still smiling, because it was so nice to see them unexpectedly.

Just then, my alarm went off. It was morning already. I hit snooze, lay back on my pillow and started thinking about my day. What day is it? Oh, yes, it is Tuesday. My husband needs me to wake him before I leave for work today. And, I need to leave a little early from work so that I have time to pick up my mom and take her… to get her hair cut.

Then, the realization washes over me. It was a dream. But, it was SO real. My dad was alive and smiling. But, it was just a dream. The reality is that he is gone. He has been gone since January. My eyes welled up with tears. I could not stop them. So much love was quietly spilling out and running down my cheeks. It happens frequently these days.

This is only the second time I have seen my dad in a dream. The first time did not leave such a feeling of longing for him to still be in my life. To be there to talk to whenever I want to. To see his smile. To feel my own smile and happiness.

There will be an underlying current of sadness as I go about my day today, but also a belief that I know my dad is in a better place. A happy place, which pulls the corners of my mouth upward. It’s ok to smile at the thought of him in a better place, free of pain and challenges.

Yes, it is OK to smile….

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Possessions

What would you do if you lost all your possessions?

Can you smell the buttery aroma?

Popcorn is a favorite snack of mine. The smell of popcorn makes me want to watch 48-Hours, the True Crime Show. And, eating pistachios makes me think of The People’s Court. My husband and I went through a phase of popping popcorn and watching 48-Hours together weekly. When I was younger, I would watch The People’s Court, with Judge Joseph Wapner while shelling and snacking on pistachios. Those smells and tastes take me right back to those activities. Smells, sounds, music… all of it is connected to various memories in my life.

If I lost all of my possessions, I would feel sad about the loss of irreplaceable possessions, such as photos and journals. I would feel burdened by the need to replace some of the most important items, like birth certificates, SS cards, etc. Which reminds me, I was going to get a fireproof safe for those items. That needs to move to the top of the priority list of things to do this month. Good thing this was one of the writing prompt questions this month! If my husband reads this, maybe he will help remind us to purchase the fireproof safe for our important documents.

I have known people who have lost all of their possessions. My dad and his siblings when they were children returned from watching a movie at the “show house” only to find their house on fire. It was a total loss. Besides the entire family, thankfully, only a few possessions, including the family bible and several photographs, survived the fire. It was a difficult time for them. Grandma and Grandpa did not have insurance on the house, so they did not have the money to rebuild. Grandpa sold the land and they moved in with family in another town where they could make a fresh start.

As a child, my husband lived through the loss of their family home. It was a frightening night with a little humorous side story. His mom told him to hurry back to his room to wake up his brother, grab their coats and shoes, and run back her second-story bedroom where they would climb out onto the roof area through the window. That is not what he heard. He and his brother grabbed their COMBS and their shoes. They ran as fast as they could to their parents’ room and scurried out the window where the firetrucks began to arrive and helped them off the roof, just as the flames were beginning to dance around the roof’s edge. This was just before Christmas, which meant cold temperatures. My husband and his brother were a couple of very chilly boys with just their COMBS and their shoes and nothing over their pajamas to keep them warm on that awful winter night. They are lucky they survived the fire. Fortunately, his parents had insurance on the house, so they were able to rebuild.

Speaking of smell being connected to a memory. Both my husband and my dad said the smell of a burning house is not something you soon forget and are easily reminded of every time you smell smoke. I am grateful they are here and able to be triggeed by that memory.

My friend came home from work to find her home had been robbed. Anything of value was taken. In broad daylight. She felt violated because a stranger had been in her home rummaging through her things. It took a while for her to feel peaceful in her own home.

Possessions are replaceable, for the most part. Broken hearts heal. People are built to be resiliant.

Posted on by ChatterLei · 1 Comment

Sad Songs Make Me Cry

What would your life be like without music?

Sometimes, on sad days, I like to cry it out by listening to sad songs. One of my favorite sad songs is “Tears in Heaven” by Eric Clapton.

When I’m cleaning, I like to listen to Miranda Lambert songs. “Little Red Wagon” is a fun one.

It is so cool how songs can take you right back to a place in time every time you hear certain songs. Madonna songs take me back to high school. Journey takes me back to dating years.  “We’ve Only Just Begun” by The Carpenters was sung at my wedding.

Can you imagine weddings without music? Or funerals without music? Or Dancing With the Stars? Haha! Nope!

Music and lyrics speak to our hearts and souls like nothing else can!

Posted on by ChatterLei · 3 Comments

Keep a Journal

Daily writing prompt
Share a lesson you wish you had learned earlier in life.
View all responses

Time moves so fast. And your memory fades over time. The details of your life, over time, become less and less easy to recall. One of my friends became an author. She has kept a journal her entire life, which was very helpful to her when she wrote her first book. I just wish I had kept a record of all of our family experiences when our children were young. It would be fun to share those memories with our adult daughters and our grandchildren now. Also, it would be good to have something in writing to solve disputes when my husband and I are discussing past experiences from our separate perspectives and aging memories. Yep. Keep a journal! 🙂

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His Bark Was Bigger Than His Bite

Why do you blog?

I like to blog for the challenge of filling the blank canvas (screen) with a thought or two. Plus, I love seeing the words fill the page.

Back in 2010, I started a blog because my friend and I were walking and talking and laughing and I said that we should write down some of our funny experiences from our daily walks. As it turned out, she was funny when talking, but could not convert those same thoughts in writing. So, I blogged my own thoughts and experiences… which was not quite as funny as when we were together, but it was ok… except the story about our bikes and a dog…

One time, instead of walking, we decided to go for long (in our opinion) bike ride. Our ride took us over five miles on winding country roads, ending at a bridge over the fast flowing Snake River, a favorite place for fly fishing.

We were enjoying our ride along farmground, trees, and houses spread out beautifully along the way. My friend was riding a little ahead of me when suddenly there appeared a medium-sized barking dog that came shooting across the lawn from the house.

When this sort of thing happens, you find out really fast who your friends are. My friend left me in the dust! She was nothing but a blur… GONE! I peddled as fast as I could to catch up to her. She finally slowed her bike to a stop. I started laughing when I pulled my bike up behind her.  I said she must have learned that lesson about how to avoid being eaten by a bear.  You simply have to run faster than your friend! She and I laughed so hard!

She shared a story about a time, as a teenager, she went to knock on the door at her friend’s house and the friend’s very large dog came running around the corner straight at her. She felt trapped and so scared… so scared that she fainted right there on the doorstep! She has had a fear of dogs ever since that day.

Anyway, we made it safely to our destination and back home again.

Sharing stories is also another reason I like to blog. 😉

Posted on by ChatterLei

Hospice or Not?

    My dad had his first stroke on December 14th, 2023. After a series of watershed strokes, several rides to the hospital in the back of an ambulance, time in and out of the emergency room, a couple of weeks in a rehabilitation center, and three more trips back and forth to the ER, he was sent home on hospice with “comfort care.”

    He was driven to his home via non-emergent transport from the hospital. Home is where he wanted to be for however many days he had remaining. It was a Sunday. Monday and Tuesday were fairly good days. Wednesday, he started seeing children playing around his bed. Dad was full of smiles. His demeanor was relaxed and peaceful as he watched the children play. Even when he could not quite catch the pork that was floating at the end of his bed, he seemed unbothered. Thursday, there was less talking and more sleeping. By Friday, late afternoon, he had slipped into unconsciousness. 

   We were not fully prepared for what came next. The “death rattle” type of breathing began at 6pm Friday night. For twelve and a half hours, we surrounded our dad, husband, and grandpa, administering medication to him via syringe between his cheek and tongue, as we listened to that rattle. At first, it was administered every 2 hours, then one hour, then every 30 minutes at the direction of the hospice nurse via telephone on call that night. We were up all night. No nurse came. No matter how many times we called to explain that our dad seemed to be in distress, unable to swallow (for the last 12+ hours) the medication inevitably draining down the back of his throat. No suctioning was offered. Nothing.

   We were together as a family but alone in this process. We were exhausted to the point of tears, each of us lost in our own loneliness and confusion. Torn between the desparate need to hang on to this man, who is THE central part of each of our lives, and letting go, knowing his body gave him 84 years, but would not be able to give him one more day. It was his time to go home to his family, who were waiting to greet him on the other side of death. He took his last breath at 6:30 a.m. on Saturday morning. 

My sister’s grief poured out of her body in inconsolable sobbing and wailing exhales of emotion that her heart could no longer hold. Her daughter, my daughter, our mom, and I all wrapped her in arms of love, understanding exactly how she felt.

I don’t remember who made the call to the hospice nurse. I do remember watching the men from the funeral home load my dad into the back of their van and pull out of the driveway.  I don’t remember anything else, except feeling the need to sleep.

A few weeks after the funeral, my mom, my sister, and I met with the director of the home health and hospice company to share our experience. We do not want another family to experience the trauma our family experienced with “comfort care.”

We explained that expectations and options were not made clear. The nurse never offered to come lay eyes on our dad to make sure we didn’t need to change what we were doing. He did not appear comfortable. My understanding was that hospice meant comfort care. Our experience of comfort care was anything but comfort.

Home health and hospice listened intently to our concerns. We hope they make the changes they said they will, so anyone using their hospice service in the future has a positive experience of their loved one’s passing.

The good memories of our dad help to soften the pains of our loss. For that, we feel immense gratitude.