Each Day

“Today felt better than all the other ones,” I said to Samuel, then remembered starting the day with an extra dose of CBD oil. It seemed a good idea due to the anxiety bubbling in my belly that is in addition to the usual daily challenges with it.

Normally a full dropper is taken at night before laying down in bed, under the tongue for five minutes before swallowing. It is a helpful habit to keep until safer days arrive. It may also help with sudden wakings due to an increase of nightmares. We gut laughed during a TV show. It has been weeks since laughing like that. 

Interestingly, food cravings stabilized almost immediately with the additional dose, meals becoming healthier frosted with a greater capacity to connect with my body. 

The current of anxiety thrumming deep down has vibrated constantly since the crisis began, rising as it crept closer and closer finally arriving within the community. Waves of apprehension heighten during news reports. That gratefully lessens while outdoors. Bird songs, fresh air breathed in fully, and the current of the creek meandering by comfort the ragged edges.

A beaver appeared, then a weasel slipped in and out by the bank where it made holes in the mud looking for roots to eat. A fox appeared only yards away. The wild gardens are full up with snow-drops with many bulbs popping up growing taller each day. Yellowy jonquils are almost ready to open, my term for them ‘miniature daffodils.’ The majesty of solitude, peace, and quiet smooths away unease offering respite. 

Meditation helps to settle my core, concern rising again during news reports, feeling the buzz as it erupts internally. The draw for the most current news has reduced feeling assured we are doing all that can be done to protect ourselves and others by self-isolating. 

The jerk of a president refutes the numbers of ventilators desperately required en mass, choosing instead to let the older population die. He bizarrely talks of filling up churches by Easter relaxing social distancing before the pandemic has hardly even approached it’s peak.

It is more of the same lunacy. Networks don’t broadcast his long-winded reports anymore which are full of lies interspersed with self congratulatory propaganda.



The Breath

photo by Patricia

Staying in my body, attuned to the breath, and doing things with as much attention as possible. The tiny things that once brought pleasure, still can; the sparkle of the twirling glass beads sending prisms dancing on the wall. The cat’s antics as she races around the house spinning in place because her paws can’t find traction.

The fear in my belly subsides after doing all that can be done to keep us safe, but going out into the world whips up the alarm bells keeping sleep at bay. Holding a sign through the window, the Walmart grocery worker nods then loads up the trunk waving when done.

Returning home a quandary exists. How long to leave out non-perishables before the virus dies on its own. Spraying the cold and freezer foods, the bathroom spray not drying on the products so it drips as it’s loaded into the refrigerator.

On-line it says this virus can live frozen for 2 years.

“You sprayed it,” Samuel responds to my worried announcement reading it aloud.

But the worries upset an already fragile nervous system keeping me awake. Anxiety thrums universally throughout the world, in most of those aware of the reality. Some choose not to know. For most there is a level of fear present.

Do what can be done. Seclude from the public, go to the store only when necessary, then try to go on. A tear rolls down my cheek listening to the news as a sound man from one of the major channels dies from the virus. He was much younger than me. Eyes water hearing several area nursing home come up with a positive result. The thought of the elderly, or myself, dying alone scared because no can visit rolls through my mind vividly. 

Reports of people lying in hospital hallways in Spain. Our leader is not taking care of us, and those images could soon be happening here in our country. It is dreadful that health care workers do not have what they need. It is hard enough without that problem. With a country that is supposedly as great as ours, how could this be?

It is so because we have a leader disconnected to reality consumed with himself.

Powerless to stop him, life can still be lived in each precious moment. Breathe, breathe deeply and long. We sit on the patio in the sun for a long time absorbing the heat, relaxing to my core. Full relaxation is a powerful friend to the immune system. Seek it out in whatever way it can be found. 



This morning’s moon- photo by Patricia

And he came again. This time we were prepared bringing out rubber boots, a coat saved for getting dirty, and old pants meant for little boys, mud, and water.

Samuel still made ‘tsk tsk’ noises when he jumped in muddy puddles covered with a slick of ice. But my hands came together applauding our little grandson for breaking the ‘glass.’ Soaking his mittens, he picked up the ‘glass’ to throw it down smashing it.

“Don’t you remember being three years old?” I ask Samuel.

“No, I guess I don’t,” he replied, still trying to hurry the puddle jumper back to the driveway to ride the three wheeler.  

“Go ahead if you’re in a hurry. There are still a few more ice puddles to break,” I add in exasperation.

He shakes his head and stays, as my delight soared watching the action. The spring day continued to unfold its pleasures heightened by an exploring grand-son, everything new and wonderful.

Later after he left, as the sun drifted low in the sky, we sat on the porch. The warmth heated relaxing to my core. An hour went by easily with birds singing good-night as the orange orb dipped behind trees with a kiss of ease filling and complete. 

This morning the huge, full, yellow moon descended where last night’s sun went down while the sun dawned in the east. Excitement barely containable explodes within as spring explodes. Wanting to run marathons, a walk will have to do.

Tiny green buds almost indiscernible begin to grow on the wild honeysuckle along the hedgerow. Innumerable pleasures await. My being grows in this plot of land as the landscape wakes and grows.    

Happy Grandson

A three year old surely helps to bring out the child in a person as we both trot happily down to the creek. He jumped in every puddle after telling him it was OK to do so. Mud splashed up on his boots, pants, and even the bottom of his coat as Samuel made ‘tsk tsk’ noises. But my laughter was forthright with joyful abandon.

A brisk day to bundle up for, yet flower bulbs are popping up out of thawed soil with patches of blossoming snowdrops scattered everywhere. He delights in throwing sticks into the creek.

“Watch Nana,” he says looking back expectantly.

“Oh, what a splash!” I answer, pulling my scarf down so he could see my smile.

Giggling he gathers more, over and over again. Our creek-side landscape received a nice clean-up as he exuberantly picks up twigs and fallen branches running back and forth to the water’s edge throwing them in.

Eventually we end up back in the driveway where he rides the plastic car holding his feet above the peddles while coasting down to me excitedly. We draw chalk pictures on the blacktop, blow bubbles, and toss a ball until his head begins to droop. 

By then lunchtime comes just when his Daddy picks him up all muddy, wet, tired and hungry. We send him home in clean clothes with a peanut butter sandwich on his lap.

Contentedly wrapping myself up in an afghan as a chill settles in, memories warm me. The morning outdoors didn’t feel cold at all, just packed full of fun, excitement, and laughter.


photo by Patricia

Though today is supposed to reach fifty, yesterday morning was icy cold until the day warmed. As the sun splayed its wonder on the frozen tundra, an array of sparkles glittered, each huger than ever seen before dazzling my eyes and drawing me out for an early morning walk.

Lap after lap of diamonds brilliantly flashing in the fresh sunshine as my boots slipped on the path where my previous footfalls iced over. The howling winds had stopped, in its place bird songs with geese arriving overhead plummeting down onto the creek with a splash honking their presence.

As the sun rose higher the bright gems dimmed eventually melting altogether. But the invigorating start to the day injected my spirit with love, hope, and fulfillment.


Achieving Tranquility

March is a long month, yet in-between transitions from ethereal highs and tired lows, equilibrium can be found with some focus and work. Living the day with evenness brings joyful satisfaction without drama or chaos; something my life has been filled with since early childhood traumas. Without it, life may feel boring. Boring is good. Boring means tranquil, and that is pure pleasure.



Ups and downs, but overall an underlying contentment unfounded in my life-time. The years since moving from our other home where our two boys grew up has been a time of great growth and movement towards a peaceful interior.

Rocky, chaotic, and injected with withering anxiety at times, peace comes coupled with joyous gratitude. The cat cries for her food while grinding coffee beans. Placing the plate down she nibbles gratified.

Settling down by the fire with a cup of the dark brew, a feeling of well-being permeates while gently rocking. So much to be joyful about, a home, a partner, two sons bringing a special worth to those around them, and my cat now curled up next to me playing with the string tied to the arm of the chair. 

This is life. There is no waiting for more, or the next thing. This is it, and is savored, each moment, every day as if birthed anew. The snow gently falls through the rising sun and I am complete.