“Myths can’t be translated as they did in their ancient soil.
We can only find our own meaning in our own time.”
—-Margaret Atwood
I’m trying hard, this week, at this adulting thing. I couldn’t give a damn about the great Laurel vs Yanny debate of 2018, but I am thankful for a lot.
This song came on, as a part of starting and ending off the audiobook version of All The Light We Cannot See
and I was rapidly swept up in the story, in part, thanks to this music having been added.
I found this book, in Munro’s Books in Victoria, BC.
I hadn’t heard an audiobook in a long while and was soon reminded why they can be so great.
Of course, Niagara Falls and Niagara On The Lake are famous spots, also known for the wine produced in the region.
While waiting for the show to start, they were serving wine and putting it in plastic collector’s cups that I took out on the wisteria covered patio.
It was a little awkward, drinking a drink like wine from a tiny hole in the plastic lid, but I was glad I went for it.
Perhaps, not quite as sophisticated as drinking wine from a glass, but fun for the type of day it was.
I’m thankful for Stephen Fry live and in person at The Shaw Festival in Niagara.
He is witty and charming. He is clever and more than capable of telling an interesting story, especially that of Greek mythology, which many people (including myself in high school) can find obscure and complicated.
I’m thankful for Niagara Falls and its caretaker seagulls and other birds.
There’s something, already, about Niagara Falls that I love, but then I stand there and listen to the various birds that live around the area. I’ll admit, there’s definitely something about that place and those who call it home that gets my imagination off and running.
Just to imagine being able to fly around and over those waterfalls, to land on rocks in the middle of the Niagara River or directly on the edge, and be able to lift off and fly away again.
What a place to call home.
As always, I simply stood there and stared at all that water and all that force. I listened to the roar. I felt the vibrations. It was so strange, the back and forth of the warm May air of the day one second, and the rush of cold mossy air coming off the Falls on my face the next.
I’m thankful for purple rain.
Not the song, but the drink.
I’m thankful for raspberry yogurt cheesecake.
Enough said.
I’m thankful for the scent of lilacs on my back deck.
I’m thankful that Ireland has made the right decision for women’s rights.
I can’t imagine making that choice, but the choice is a personal health one and often a medical one. It’s about what’s happening in a woman’s own body and nobody (least of all politicians) should have a say.
I know it’s a religion question for many and it comes off like a moral one and I understand. It isn’t a pleasant thing to think about, but I will side with the woman every time. To everyone else, nobody forces you to do anything to your own body that you don’t want, but making it hard to access or illegal doesn’t get rid of it. The reality of it doesn’t go away just because you want it to.
I’m thankful for my father’s willingness to cut my lawn.
I live in my home, a lot for just me to manage, but he’s always there and happy to cut my grass all spring/summer long and even into the fall.
And I’m thankful for wisteria because it makes my mother happy.
“Myth is much more important and true than history.
History is just journalism and you know how reliable that is.”
—-Joseph Campbell
A man who was never widely known outside of Canada for his musical abilities is now gone. Maybe, though, he was meant never to have worldwide fame, but instead to be Canada’s musician and to do what he did, to speak powerfully about how we’ve treated Indigenous people in this country, Indigenous youth for more than a century.
I am thankful Canada has a leader who can show emotion.
A friend died, a fellow Canadian, and I know people still thought it silly that Justin Trudeau became emotional.
Why not?
He is human, isn’t afraid or so unfeeling and dead inside as to let his emotions out, and I will take that over other options, in other countries, right now and any day.
I am thankful for a comforting and hopeful yet bittersweet mid week medical appointment.
I felt a true disappointment when I realized she was coming to the end of what she, herself, could do to help me.
She is one of the best physicians I’ve ever seen and that is not always so easy to find. She did her best for me and I could sense she felt truly bad that I wasn’t feeling better from any of her treatment ideas. Again, hard to find, feel from some doctors.
So, she is always open to seeing me, if I ever need something, but has given me suggestions for what to try next and where to go.
I really did feel sad when I left her office this time. I guess that is a sign I’ve seen too many doctors in my life.
I am thankful for the ability to go into my local bank and deposit a cheque I earned all by myself, into my account.
This shouldn’t be such a big deal for someone my age, but it is.
That’s just the honest to God truth of it. More where that came from, but my fear is always there that it won’t last.
The pressure now feels compounded, though still thankful, this week anyway.
I am thankful for a writing group evening that started out moodily and ended wonderfully.
I must have been in a bit of a mood, myself, but the personalities of the writers in that room soon brought me out of my funk.
That’s why I go. Sure, it’s nice to write and hear some good old stories, but it’s those minds where the ideas for said stories come from that I am most grateful for, why I keep on going back.
I am thankful I was able to keep up with my first evening of secretarial duties.
We had our first official meeting of Ontario’s chapter of Canada Federation of the Blind.
I wanted an app to record the conference call, but I couldn’t be sure any were accessible and so I took notes. I did better with that than I thought I would.
We have multiple issues I feel are important enough to take on and hopefully tackle, to make even a slight difference.
I may never have a child to leave behind, but I do want to leave behind something. Maybe I can make a difference somehow.
I am thankful for a day of rejection and acceptance.
I pitched to two places. One came back thrilled for me to tell my story and the other had to pass.
I had a feeling on the second one and it hurt at first, but what I have to say isn’t right for every place. It might be the wrong time, though I would like to write about being a woman who may never have a child, not because I don’t want one, but for several different factors.
This writing journey brings both acceptances and rejections, and from what I’ve heard and read, it isn’t always about the writing. Sometimes it’s timing or luck. I’ve been very lucky this year so far.
I do like the lessons I am learning, over and over again, and I hope that sting of rejection will continue to happen and teach me that it isn’t the end of the world and that maybe something else can come along another date and time.
I am thankful for a lovely dinner with family and friends.
My mom went to a lot of work to make everything look nice. She is a lovely hostess. She put coloured peppers in the chicken. She baked a new fluffy casserole recipe for the yams. She put time and attention into welcoming a new friend into her home.
We all had a lot of fun and laughs.
I am thankful for wine.
And the wine I had with the evening didn’t hurt any either. It was nice to be able to wind down, at the end of a busy week, wind down with wine.
I am thankful for a short walk for mail.
I still haven’t been sleeping well and I needed a brief Saturday morning walk in the sunshine, with my neighbour, down the street to the mailboxes.
It was a beautiful morning and I came home refreshed and fully awake for the day.
On a day like that, it isn’t so bad that my mail doesn’t come right outside my door anymore.
I am thankful for the attention a dying man brought to what Canada’s next 150 years should look like.
Gord Downie cared about his country and knew he was leaving it and leaving this life. He wanted to take a step toward bringing us all together before he went.
I watched the live broadcast of the concert he put on a year before his death. It is a sad story, what happened to this one boy and so many other boys and girls and their parents and families for so long.
Different circumstances of course, but I see it as Chanie Wenjack was a symbol of so many other children here in Canada being forcibly removed and reprogrammed, just like Anne Frank went on, after her death, to symbolize all the children during the Holocaust in Europe during World War II.
I can easily imagine being taken from my home and forced into residential school. What a scary thing, especially if forced to speak another language and be separated from everyone and everything you know and love.
What were Canada’s governments and churches thinking?
“Here is my secret. It is very simple. It is only with the heart that one can see rightly; what is essential is invisible to the eye.”
—The Little Prince
I like alliteration in my titles and I like this time of year. I am busy during the days and try not to think too much, about those things that keep me up at night.
I’m thankful my family and I are safe and far from natural disasters and that my friends are safe too.
Here in Ontario we get tornados sometimes, but we aren’t out west where the fires are, nor are we by the coast where the flooding happens.
Then I woke to the notification of a strong earthquake in Mexico and I feared for my friends living there.
Mexico is big enough that those I care about weren’t touched, but these natural disasters seem to be everywhere lately.
Just not here. Our weather has been beautiful, if not a little cool for this time of year, but I am loving it.
I’m thankful for such a fun and energizing writing group.
A pack of three crayons (red/blue/green) were brought in for the mystery object, those packs you find at a restaurant, to keep the kids entertained. Well, I love crayons, but many of us in the group wondered and commented on the lack of a yellow crayon.
Our group was larger than usual and I liked the energy each person added. I was entirely entertained, myself, by everyone in that room.
The stories were diverse and all about crayons. Ah, the life of a crayon.
There were two new people there and they were both J names. This, somehow, had its own influence on someone’s story. I hope they both come back.
I’m thankful my brother had his adventure and made it safely home from Iceland.
I’m thankful he returned to his radio show.
He is getting better and more comfortable, every time he does it.
I’m thankful for a another Saturday family day.
The guys went to a baseball game and us girls and Max stayed home.
There were family photos taken out in the back yard.
I’m thankful Saturday family day spilled over to Sunday.
It was a lovely afternoon spent sitting in a circle in the yard, with beers, wine, and snacks.
My family are some of the most interesting people I know.
I’m thankful a piece I’ve been working on (from pitch to publication) is finally out, starting all the way back last May.
Read to the end and the part about the drumsticks.
This is a prelude to my audio piece for SiriusXM.
I’m thankful for two more “acceptances” and for the fear that’s accompanying both.
I wasn’t expecting it, in a way, and I am back to square one. I must come up with a piece of writing that they will want to publish. I worry about not coming up with anything and instead letting them and myself down.
The excitement is there too though. I am honoured, after ending last week with a rejection email to a pitch, to hear anything at all to start off a new one.
I’m thankful to have an available store full of food to shop in.
As I meandered through the isles, the shelves, and the freezer section and prepared foods, I know not everyone has such choice right there in front of them. It felt like a lot, but it is an abundance I am thankful for.
I suppose, in many ways, it does. I don’t happen to think they are always interchangeable.
I am anxious and eager to find out what this year will bring to my life. I am a mess of emotions about it really. Interspersed in there somewhere are moments of relative calm though. I had a few of those last night, watching a Gilmore Girls and their Year in the Life four-part updated series from last November, drinking wine, and trying fondue for (what I think) was my very first time.
I will start, hopefully not from the beginning, with a renewed commitment to learning to play violin.
I will get what I need to get done in the coming weeks, to take a journey of sorts, both literally and figuratively.
This song was from Disney’s Moana soundtrack last year. When I heard it I immediately thought I would save it to post at the start of 2017 and that Song Lyric Sunday
would be the perfect place for it.
I am declaring myself as taking more of a journey in this year of transitions and big first steps in my life. I will conquer my fear.
***
I’ve been staring at the edge of the water ‘Long as I can remember, never really knowing why I wish I could be the perfect daughter But I come back to the water, no matter how hard I try
Every turn I take, every trail I track Every path I make, every road leads back To the place I know, where I cannot go Where I long to be
See the line where the sky meets the sea? It calls me And no one knows, how far it goes If the wind in my sail on the sea stays behind me One day I’ll know, if I go there’s just no telling how far I’ll go
Oh oh oh, oh, oh oh oh oh, oh oh oh, oh oh Oh oh oh, oh, oh oh oh oh, oh oh oh, oh oh
I know, everybody on this island seems so happy on this island Everything is by design I know, everybody on this island has a role on this island So maybe I can roll with mine
I can lead with pride, I can make us strong I’ll be satisfied if I play along But the voice inside sings a different song What is wrong with me?
See the light as it shines on the sea? It’s blinding But no one knows, how deep it goes And it seems like it’s calling out to me, so come find me And let me know, what’s beyond that line, will I cross that line?
See the line where the sky meets the sea? It calls me And no one knows, how far it goes If the wind in my sail on the sea stays behind me One day I’ll know, how far I’ll go
It was a slow day And the sun was beating On the soldiers by the side of the road There was a bright light A shattering of shop windows The bomb in the baby carriage Was wired to the radio
These are the days of miracle and wonder This is the long distance call The way the camera follows us in slo-mo The way we look to us all
The way we look to a distant constellation That’s dying in a corner of the sky These are the days of miracle and wonder And don’t cry baby, don’t cry Don’t cry
It was a dry wind And it swept across the desert And it curled into the circle of birth And the dead sand Falling on the children The mothers and the fathers And the automatic earth
“The Boy in the Bubble” discusses starvation and terrorism, but mixes this with wit and optimism. Simon concurred with this assessment: “Hope and dread – that’s right. That’s the way I see the world, a balance between the two, but coming down on the side of hope.”
Hope and dread. Hope and dread. Hope and dread. These things run through my head…my head…my head.
My nephew is learning so many new things at school, even already after his first few weeks.
How do I know this?
The other night at dinner he started asking about carrots and how they grow, in the earth, from seeds. Such a basic concept of a lovely natural process.
Seeds planted. Something growing, sprouting up, from once there was only dirt under foot.
I am thankful for all the time I got to spend with my aunt.
Her life is a mystery to me. I get stuck on trying to imagine it. I only knew her for the last few decades of her life.
She was my father’s half sister. She was born in Europe during World War II. She came here to Canada, all by herself. I will forever wonder about all that.
The last time I saw her, as herself, she had made the trip to her mother’s funeral. We didn’t think she would come, for several reasons, but she came and I was nervous to give my tribute to my oma, whose relationship with her daughter was different from ours.
I hugged my aunt, after a day at the graveside, and an evening reminiscing about the life Oma lived, all of us sitting on the deck, around a table. I hugged her and left.
The next time she would have faced tumour treatments, her brain badly effected. She clung to me, our last real moment of contact, and one more familial thread is lost..
Without my parents making a decision to introduce us, I would never have known her mighty spirit.
I am thankful for the light chatter of young voices on a hard day of reality confronted.
On the night we received the news, I heard a one-year-old playing lovingly with her doll (all thanks to WhatsApp) and I interrupted a family in the middle of their beloved spaghetti dinner.
I needed to hear these little people, to remember that there are beginnings as well as those endings we wish would never come.
Na na na na na na na na Max Man!
🙂
Thanks to speaker phone, we discussed colours, what we want to be when we grow up, and what our favourite foods are.
I sat back, listening to my niece describe all manner of shades of many many colours. I needed that just then.
I am thankful for a world attempting to live more peacefully.
Justin Trudeau spoke about what “Canada has gotten right, not perfect.” That we believe diversity brings us strength to fight hatred and violence.
With all the meetings of UN in New York through the week, I listened to several speeches, President Obama and Prime Minister Trudeau in particular. All still so complicated. Peace exists in pockets. I just happen to live in one of those at the moment. No guarantee it will always be that way.
I am thankful for another educational Ken Burns PBS documentary.
I was unaware of the story of this couple.
I am thankful for a room full of writers
I had a question about writing, about the writing journey we’re all on, and I thought who better to bring it to than that select group of people. They are just learning as they go along, just like me, and I wanted their take on a particular situation I’ve gotten myself into.
Their input did not totally squelch my concerns, but we did have a lively discussion about writing contests and when a scam is a scam. I did not want to bring down the other writer in the group to have received good news like myself. He may choose to go a different way with it, but I am still undecided. We all want our writing to have a chance out there in the wider world.
This sort of thing is not visible to me anymore as such, but just hearing this scientist’s enthusiasm made me believe in the hope of all that magic to be found, especially in the ocean.
I am thankful for the perfect autumn weather.
Thursday was nearly thirty degrees. It was humid but yet there was a coolish breeze, enough to make a meal out on a patio still rather lovely. Yep, there was at least one bee this time, but not on me. Not that I knew of anyway.
I wasn’t having a great week. I was feeling unwell and having more computer troubles. I wanted the first day of fall to feel like fall.
By Friday the temperature had dropped ten degrees or more. I was in Heaven. Fall had arrived.
I am thankful for speedy and readily available medical care for myself and for those I love.
I felt lousy, but I needed blood taken and tested. I got it. Results available online now and oh how far we’ve come, to be able to check our own blood levels, without having to ask any doctor.
Then my family needs treatment for chronic medical conditions, tests run to check out symptoms, diabetes, and diet changes are called for. Hopefully those I love can remain healthy and live for a long time still.
I am thankful for a lovely day on the go.
It began at a secondhand store. Not exactly my kind of place, as I have a strange aversion to old, used things. I am also drawn to their stories. My sister was shopping for maternity clothes, not as easy as it sounds.
We kept my nephew occupied in the halloween decorations section, specifically interested in a doorbell with an eye that opened and and a voice that cackled.
We had lunch at a “pizza store” as my four-year-old nephew refers to it. All you can eat, but still we ate thin crust pizza, to stick, as close as we possibly can, to our diets and health restrictions.
Then I had my violin lesson. Brahms’ lullaby, played for me on piano and violin, so hopefully I can master the entire song by next March.
I went, with my brother and a few people, to attend a bit of speaking about video game production and radio.
This guy, the one with the website, he has been on a Toronto radio station for years. My brother listened to his radio programs. We heard he was visiting and we decided to go and listen to what he had to say.
Finally, we walked downtown, a Beatles festival happening, and capped off the day with a relaxing glass of wine and delicious dessert on a patio and then a cup of coffee, latte, before I felt a sore throat coming on dampen my mood. Nothing could truly dampen my first Saturday of fall.
I am thankful for an album, which becomes an experience in itself.
This album was brought back to my attention, but this week it has great value, in its overall feeling of hope and peace.
It is a magical record, full of the voice of Paul Simon, but yet with a distinctly African tone. Anyone who has never heard it has been missing out.
These days albums in their entirety are all but extinct. Songs that stand alone are what gets the public’s attention. This album, named for a tourist attraction, a musical and cultural icon of a place, a spiritual experience for some, that is what this album is for me.
It’s a collection of songs, taking me on travels, experiences of sorts, to a place called Africa, where my young self couldn’t imagine. This album was playing in our house, thanks to my father, and this can clearly be heard on an old home movie when I was three.
There was the almost mystical affection and strange familiarity I felt when I first heard South African music. Later, there was the visceral thrill of collaborating with South African musicians onstage. Add to this potent mix the new friendships I made with my band mates, and the experience becomes one of the most vital in my life. block quote level 1block quote level 1
I did not want to visit Graceland, the home of Elvis Presley, so much as I wanted to learn about South Africa, about the troubles and the ruining of lives Apartheid caused, when I was too young to realize, when the concept of black and white wasn’t something I thought anything about. Now I think about it often. No superiority. No ranking of human life.
What was unusual about Graceland is that it was on the surface apolitical, but what it represented was the essence of the antiapartheid in that it was a collaboration between blacks and whites to make music that people everywhere enjoyed. It was completely the opposite from what the apartheid regime said, which is that one group of people were inferior. Here, there were no inferiors or superiors, just an acknowledgement of everybody’s work as a musician. It was a powerful statement. block quote level 1block quote level 1
Graceland transcended racial and cultural barriers. ” Graceland was never just a collection of songs, after all; it was a bridge between cultures, genres and continents, not to mention a global launching pad for the musicians whose popularity been suppressed under South Africa’s white-run apartheid rule,” said Andrew Leahey of
American Song Writer.
The transience of the blossoms, the exquisite beauty and volatility, has often associated with mortality
and graceful and readily acceptance of destiny and karma; for this reason, cherry blossoms are richly symbolic
I’ve been obsessed lately with cherry blossoms, which I hear are popping up in many spots around the world, from the west coast of Canada, to D.C. USA, to Japan of course.
I found several songs (Japanese folk songs) about cherry blossoms. I found, through further investigation and coincidence, that they have a meaning closely related to one not-so-thankful thing that did happen this week, along with the colder weather around here.
Here in Ontario, Canada it has been bitterly cold this weekend. Here’s my list of thankfuls, in spite of the weather, which I hope will improve very soon.
For a chance Facebook Messenger chat last Sunday evening, after months of a developing online writing relationship, and suddenly I had myself a writing mentor.
I wasn’t altogether happy with where I was with my writing and she saw that in me, rightly so. She volunteered and I eagerly reached out for her offered help.
For a return to my violin lessons.
Finally, there was no more interrupted holidays or illnesses. I couldn’t get by with only one lesson, if I were ever going to become even halfway decent.
For one hour, I go into a small practice room, on a university campus, and I funnel all my energy, all my mental power, into what my fingers are doing, holding the bow, how my arm is held to have a proper reach on the notes, and all the while making sure I don’t raise my right shoulder. It all takes incredible focus for me. I think nothing but violin, often forgetting many other basic facts and details about my life.
Gregory Peck would have turned one hundred and I thought it worth mentioning the performance of a lifetime he gave. It makes me tear up when I watch, every time.
I like his reaction when he asks Scout if she knows what a compromise means. When she answers with “bending the law” as her guess, his reaction is priceless, not to mention the part about how “you never really understand a person until you consider things from his point of view”.
For the sense of bonding with those who understand.
It’s just nice, even when I’m not feeling always up to going, to get out and spend a few hours, one evening every few weeks, at my favourite place: the library.
We may all be of different ages and have a wide array of writing interests, but we all are there because we love writing/storytelling in some capacity.
If you listen to one song today, make it THIS ONE! Lyrics written by – THIS GIRL!
🙂
For a dinner with my parents, after an afternoon where it was brought home to me how lucky I am to have them both.
We went to pay our respects, to an old family friend, someone who means so much to so many. He was a wonderful family man: husband, father, grandfather, brother, friend.
He fought hard, battling the cancer, that would eventually take his life.
I thought harder still about the cherry blossom, once I learned its meaning, the only actual flowers I saw (with the weather being as it is) this week was what I could detect the scent of, as people send flowers as a condolence to the grieving family.
For a history of 90s music remembered with a legend.
Nirvana’s Kurt Cobain died, twenty-two years ago, but he will always be what the nineties were for my brothers, who introduced the grunge world and this band in particular, to me. It was a kind of music none of us had ever heard at the time.
For the first voice-to-face meeting with my new writing mentor.
What would we do without the invention of a little thing called Skype?
It was nice, though I was nervous originally, to finally hear her voice, after months of online interaction.
We had a beneficial first meeting, discussing writing and nothing but, for more than an hour. She told me some things I needed to hear, things about my abilities as a writer. She let me learn from her and the road she has traveled into the world of mostly literary travel writing.
I left the call, by the end, feeling highly energized and hopeful.
For another extremely enjoyable family gathering.
For my siblings.
It’s Siblings Day today and I celebrated yesterday: had some excellent discussions with my sisters, have enjoyed collaborating on a song with my younger brother, and had my older brother do what he does best and that’s take photographs. This, however, means he is rarely, if ever, actually featured in any of our photos himself.
I would not be the person I am today without these guys.
And so, all and all, it was an overall success of a week. Big things are happening. I can feel it.
While, at the same time, life isn’t always easy and things happen we’re never going to be ready for.
Traveling to pay our respects, driving through the old neighbourhood of the deceased and his family, my mom talked about the people and the history of the area.
The past felt so long back, to me, but it all felt very present just then, and I was left wondering about the future.
and I love it. I could write and write and write about why I love it so.
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I went to Niagara Falls, Canada, all the time when I was growing up, with family and friends.
I’ve been there on a rainy day in the green of spring, on a blisteringly hot day of summer, during a crisp and beautiful weekend during autumn, and the blustery cold of winter too. In any season in Canada I would happily return to where my heart lies.
It has been called the Honeymoon Capital. I spent a Valentine’s weekend of my own, there in February that had its own memorable charm.
I’ve ticked off items from my bucket list more than once and I plan to tick off many more yet still.
Some complain of how commercial and touristy its become, but I don’t let that bother me. Of course it is a wonder to behold and people from all around the world flock to see it. I can’t and don’t blame them for that.
Just in my last visit there I met visitors from China and Zimbabwe alone, but the countries represented standing at that railing are numerous and varied.
I am one awfully proud Canadian who, once I place my hand on that rail and my feet on the rock ledge overlooking Niagara, I never want to leave.
Niagara on the Lake – if you love wine, you will love the atmosphere of peace and tranquility in that town.
I recommend a nighttime ride on the big ferris wheel that gives you the best views of the lights on Niagara Falls waters.
There is no place like it in the world. Go and go soon. Not to be missed.
As much as I am obsessed with travel, have places like Ireland where I’ve been and love or Hawaii where I love to dream of visiting, Niagara Falls will always be my spot. I can honestly say I “LOVE” Niagara Falls and always will.
– I couldn’t think of any building I love more than this place that could never be contained inside walls, but in Niagara Falls there is one building I love so very much.
It’s not the fanciest hotel in Niagara Falls or anywhere else for that matter. It’s not the most luxurious of accommodations for a vacation, but it’s where I am at my happiest.
It should be called Hotel Nostalgia. It has a grouping of rooms, two levels of them, all facing out into a tropical indoor courtyard. There is soft music playing all the time. The pool is warm and the sky lights let in all kinds of light from above and outside.
This was the newest generation of my family, making memories of this very special place.
I was so excited to get to take my niece and nephews there. My whole family spent the weekend there together, and something I thought was gone forever, we all got to enjoy together one more time.
For last year’s words belong to last year’s language
And next year’s words await another voice.
And to make an end is to make a beginning.
–From “Little Gidding” by T. S. Eliot
Last week I wrote my TToT list, like I’ve done for nearly every week, for months now. I found ten things to be thankful for, as always, but I did preface my list with a list of three things I had to complain about. Christmas wasn’t all merriment and joy for me.
But then there’s this, there’s them. This song I include because I know how much I still have to be thankful for, not least the way the children in my life help me see certain things in a new light.
If I can’t see Christmas lights like I used to, or colours so bright, I am grateful for the little children who teach me to appreciate the beauty of the world.
My niece’s birthday cupcakes had designs of rainbows, hearts, and sunshines on them. These are the things she loves to draw lately. They are what make me feel like there is just a tiny bit of me inside of her, as those are the things I loved to draw when I was her age, back when I could see enough and loved colouring and bright colours.
I see myself in her sometimes, the little girl I once was, and I feel a little less afraid. Thanks goes to my cousin for the amazing cupcakes, as always.
For a second Christmas. A do-over if you will, with three amazing little people and the best family a girl could ask for.
Of course, there was nothing really wrong with the first one. I finally got to give my nephew the talking oven I’d been dying to give him and he loved it. Best part of Christmas Eve.
🙂
However, then I fell asleep with a headache, missing out on watching A Christmas Carol with my father, our little December 25th tradition.
Christmas number two was three days, after Boxing Day, with my brother and his wife and their two children. We all get together, at my parent’s house, and do Christmas on our own time.
For a spur-of-the-moment Sunday night trip to the movies, (to see the new Star Wars: The Force Awakens), with my two brothers.
I loved it. It was an awesome escape from reality for a couple hours.
I was not born yet, to witness the craze of the first Star Wars, back in 1977, so I probably don’t have the same attachment to what it was like when it first came out in theatres.
All I know is I liked the characters, the action, and the fact that I saw it all unfolding with my brothers. A few weeks ago now I wasn’t seeing any movie with Brian. Now here we all were.
For another excellent movie narration, by an expert in the art of movie describing.
🙂
I really need to write a letter. I really see no reason, in 2015/16, that all movie theatres don’t have audio descriptive track for the visually impaired.
I know it’s a small town movie theatre, with few people in need, but there are still some, me included. With all the technology we have, it’s possible, and I shouldn’t have to worry about what movie to go to, not feeling I can’t see a specific film, say if I were on a date.
My older brother is well practiced, after being the one to do it for my younger brother and me since we were little, but most people don’t know how to describe a movie. It isn’t something to come naturally to most people.
For my brother’s home electronics knowledge.
I haven’t had much in home audio for a while now. When my ex left, I told him I didn’t need the flat screen television, and that he should take it, that I could get by with an old television for the time.
This meant that the surround sound system I’d purchased, when we started dating, was sitting unused, but since I was the one who bought it, I kept it. I assumed I would use it again, at some juncture.
Well, I finally have the chance. I required help to set it up again. My brother came over and got it working for me.
For Canadian healthcare and a card to access it.
I resisted having to get the new, updated card, for as long as I possibly could. Finally, I couldn’t resist any longer and got my photo taken, waiting for the card to arrive in the mail.
Well, it came the other day and I know I am lucky to live in Canada, to have the access to all the medical attention I might ever need, of which I very likely will at some point. That little card is my ticket.
For my brother, who continues to become his old self, a little more everyday and for the beautiful music he still makes.
His language and memory are growing stronger all the time and I have him back. I’d feared that I’d lost him forever, in the way that he might never again be who he was. I was afraid we wouldn’t continue to have the connection we’ve always shared, that we could no longer have the talks we used to have. It’s a Christmas miracle. I don’t care what anyone else says.
At one point, during Christmas Part Two, my uncle came over with a guitar and his recorder. The two of them started to play and we all started to cry.
It was the best sound in the world, hearing my brother play the guitar, when we weren’t sure he ever would again.
The above song doesn’t fit the scene, but I will forever think of it when I remember this next thankful on my list.
For the birth of a beautiful little girl, her existence, and the sunshine she’s brought to my family’s lives for these last five years.
I will never forget the night of New Year’s Eve, 2010 and celebrating, alone, in the kitchen of the house I was living in at the time.
It was just me, pizza, and wine, toasting the birth of my brother’s first child, my parent’s first grandchild, and my introduction into the best title ever: of Auntie Kerry. I couldn’t wait to get back to my family, to meet my niece for the very first time.
She has made the world a much brighter place, these last five years. She is smart and funny. She is so sharp. She keeps us all on our toes. We are constantly surprised by what she knows and what she thinks and what she says.
For one more perfect visit with my friend and her baby girl.
It was a chance to ring in 2016 with Chinese food, chocolate cake, and The Unauthorized Beverly Hills 90210 Story.
🙂
For the fun of watching said unauthorized story with my old friend. She explained the wild outfits of the early 90s and the ways the actors playing the 90210 characters did or did not look like the real people they were said to be portraying.
It was highly amusing and entertaining. It was a surprise discovery, as we were looking around the television for something else to watch, other than all the to-be-expected New Year’s Eve countdown specials. We had fun, while my friend’s baby girl slept nearby. She wasn’t really old enough to watch, but my friend and I had fun discussing our memories of those days of 90210. It was my favourite show and this unauthorized movie was a fun way to spend the last few hours of one of the best years in recent memory.
Plus, in the morning I got to keep a sweet little girl company, while her mother got dressed, had something to eat, and packed up to leave.
They are gone now, back to Ireland, and I will miss them very much, but I got to have one last visit with them both. I will never forget that.
Her Headache 
