Oh, hello, 2019.

At the turn of the calendar each January, do you choose a word of the year?

I do.

For 2017, I chose “Fierce.” That was the year I tried to get my mojo back as my own person, not just “Mom” or “Wife.”

2018 was “Ritual.” It was the year I chose to establish new habits like exercise and making more time to connect with my spouse.

But 2019? I just couldn’t come up with the right word. Until it smacked me in the face, quite literally.

While walking the dog on a Thursday evening, I took a spill. I fell right on my face. I tripped on the sidewalk, and down I went. Pretty, right?

I’m lucky. I know that now. I got great help from my daughter, a kind neighbor, my caring husband, skillful emergency room personnel. The next day, an oral surgeon did what I can only classify as a miracle when he muscled my front teeth back into alignment.

Above me on the MRI table at the hospital, one ceiling tile was decorated with a shiny laminated poster of an impossibly blue sky, fluffy white clouds, and lush green palm leaves. This could almost feel like vacation, I thought wryly to myself, if not for the bleeding and the throbbing pain.

I contemplated the word “spill” as I lay there, not moving. I like the sound of the word, the way it cuts through the air like a knife. It takes on different meanings. It’s short and to the point.

spill
 verb
\ˈspil \spilled\ˈspild,  ˈspilt \ also spilt\ˈspilt \; spilling
Definition of spill 
1: to cause or allow especially accidentally or unintentionally to fall, flow, or run out so as to be lost or wasted
2a: to cause (blood) to be lost by wounding b.archaic KILLDESTROY
3: to let out DIVULGEspill a secret

I’m claiming the word SPILL for myself for 2019. Or rather, it claimed me. I’m going to let it remind me that I got knocked down along the way, but I got back up.

I’m going to spill my guts through my writing.

Also, I’m going to use spill as a metaphor for gratitude. As in, my cup spills over. I have more than I need or deserve. A pesky little fall? A cut lip and scratched face? A bruised ego? It’s nothing compared to what some have had to face. Maybe this is a clue that I need to enter the new year with a stiff upper lip, with my arms swinging.

So hello, 2019. Let’s do this.

Snow Day

macro photography of snowflakes
Photo by David Dibert on Pexels.com

Today’s snow day extends our long, luxurious Thanksgiving weekend another day. Last night, as the snow fell and the power flickered on and off a few too many times for my comfort level, we waited in hushed tones for a call or text from our school district. At 9:30 p.m.–hallelujah! We knew what the call was about before we answered. The lovely, scratchy sound of a pre-recorded message: “Due to weather conditions, school is canceled tomorrow …”

(In case anyone ever wanted to know, I can affirm that a teacher is just as excited about a snow day as students–maybe more!)

A snow day rates way higher in my book than a scheduled day off. I have so many memories of our four children waking up early searching for snow pants and boots, going out before breakfast to scope out which neighbor kids were out already building snow forts. They’d come back once they were good and cold, noses running, cheeks bright pink, eyes sparkling at the sight of me making pancakes or waffles or muffins. We’d hang up the wet snow gear on the shower curtain or throw it in the dryer so it would be ready for round two.

Today’s snow day is a bit different. One teenage son’s plans to go out to have breakfast with his friend was delayed by the reality of clearing snow off the car’s windshield and the driveway, but hopefully the sense of accomplishment he felt afterwards was worth it. Another teenage son is still sleeping soundly in his bed, earbuds in, broadcasting to the rest of us that he is not meant to be disturbed. Our 11 year old daughter is still holding on to precious childhood wonder: searching for snow pants, layering up to go outside and build something in the snow with her friend. I can’t help but wonder to myself if this is the last year she’ll wake up excited to play in the snow.

Even though my kids are spending their snow days differently than they used to, they are learning the exhilarating feeling of having a day stretched out before them, a completely clean slate. They have the choice to spend it the way they like, and every delicious moment they can compare where they would’ve been at that moment if school were in session.

Whether you are in snow or sun today, take a Snow Day or a Snow Moment for yourself: give yourself a fun snapshot of a memory to freeze in your mind for a later date, when you need it. Right now I’m gazing out the window searching for cardinals. I think I’ll be heading for the tea kettle next. What do you like to do when life gives you a snow day?

xoxo,

Carol

Hiding

bare-feet-boy-child-262103

Three, two, one … ready or not, here I come!

Playing hide and seek with a small child requires some acting. When it’s your turn to seek, you might see the curtains wriggle a little bit. You might hear giggling coming from behind a chair. There will be a tell-tale lump under the duvet.

I’ve been hiding. I’ve taken a break from writing for a few weeks. I needed to step away from my blog, lean back a little bit and do something else. I got together with a few of my friends. I indulged in movies, live shows, and some reading. My husband and I started binge-watching a show.

The midterm elections were … intense! The negative ads on TV were relentless. Tensions flared on social media, where a local school referendum was hotly debated. I saw people I love and care about argue with each other on Facebook and saying nasty things. Politics got personal.

So I hid.

Intentionally, I backed away from the noise and the hostility. I have a tendency to be like a sponge, soaking in all the negativity like a delicious poison. So I turned off the TV, muted certain feeds on Facebook, and made the decision to distract myself.

I’m not sure adults are really supposed to play hide and seek. I think we are expected to leave those childish games behind. But hiding is a way of carving out dark spaces that barely afford you enough room to turn around. You contort yourself, squeeze yourself in, and wait in silence. Part of you hopes they never find you. But part of you waits, knowing you can’t stay hidden forever.

There you are! I found you!

The best part of playing hide and seek is the finding. The elections are over, the rhetoric is silenced, and I’m quietly peeking out from behind the curtains, ready to rejoin a bit of reality.