Comment Love

#SOL18 Day Thirty-One

Something magical happens in the month of March.  Stories begin to pour out of me like water.  In the days leading up to March 1st, my brain is firing on all cylinders.  Memories, ideas, connections, and small moments in my life start bubbling up.

Once we start the process of writing and sharing of our innermost feelings another quite magical thing happens. People respond.  This special community of writers also becomes our audience.  This is so amazing.  The feeling of validation – of being heard – and understood – is exhilarating.

One of the comments that I received this month was from a fellow blogger; Persistenceandpedagogy.  You can check out her slices from this month right here.  “Persistence” talked about a book she read recently and mentioned that she felt she could have seen my slice in this particular book.  I.  Was.  Floored.

I couldn’t wait to run to my Kindle store to check out this book.  Textbook, by Amy Krouse Rosenthal, is a sweet and funny compilation of stories that are packed with various life lessons and messages.  It’s beautiful.  Amy passed away last year, in March, in Chicago, my hometown and she was only 51 years old.  She was a really special person who wrote many insightful, witty, and poignant books.

I am forever grateful to “Persistence” for teaching me a little something in the process of giving feedback on my slice.  And to all of you who have provided comment love this month – my bucket is filled.  My belief in myself as a writer grew exponentially from the 1st through the 30th.  I understand the process of writing when I participate in this challenge more than I do any other time of year.  This translates to great work with our students.  My wish is that we can find ways to fill each other up, much like we do during this March challenge, every single day of the year.  It feels so good.

 

 

Don’t Stop Believin’

#SOL18 Day Thirty

Opening day of baseball represents a new beginning.

A shot at second-chances.

An opportunity for our team to wipe the old (2017) slate clean.

There are approximately 162 games in a season to make it right.

Even though we usually come to our senses and see the “real” team somewhere around game 30, the beginning of the season always starts strong.

We believe.

 

 

 

 

 

Carrie And The No Good, Very Busy Day

#SOL18 Day Twenty-Nine

  “Thank you for your patience!” she said happily.

Why do they say that?  They are (incorrectly) assuming that I am patient right now.

“We’re so sorry.  We’ve just been swamped today!  This is highly unusual!”

Of course.  I am here on the highly unusually swamped day.  

“We book patients in 15-minute increments figuring that some of them aren’t going to show.  But, everyone showed up today!”

Then why do you book appointments in 15-minute increments?  How is it humanly possible for the Dr. to see four patients in one hour/eight patients in two hours/thirty-two patients in one day???

“We’re just going to take your vitals and then take you to the sub-waiting room until a room for the Dr. opens up.”

So, I waited out there for an hour only to be brought back here to be taken to yet another waiting room?  This day just kept getting better and better!

Ahhhh, spring break.  I had higher hopes for thee.  Hopefully, things will improve and I can begin to take charge of this day!

 

 

 

 

Seeing With Our Eyes and Our Hearts

#SOL18 Day Twenty-Eight

It was early in the morning.  An especially dark, very dreary and very gray morning.  I was sitting in my car at a light waiting to get onto the expressway. I looked to my right and there it was.  “Tent City.”

 

 

 

 

Whoa.  People live there?  I asked myself out loud.   I studied the sprawling community, first with my eyes and then with my heart.

My eyes saw various tents set up all along the Kennedy Expressway.  Red, gray, black, and yellow tents.

My heart saw the wind gently, sometimes forcefully blowing the tents.  I wondered who was inside.

My eyes saw piles of junk.  Paint buckets, grocery carts, chairs, pillows, grills, blankets, bikes, and so much more.

My heart saw desperation that caused people to hoard items from nearby stores to be kept and used later.  For what? I wondered.

My eyes saw ugliness with potential for crime and disease.

My heart saw fear, sadness, urban blight, a group of people who are seen every day by city residents, but not really seen at all.   This heart that I was seeing with ached for these human beings.  These citizens of our city/state/nation who feel they have no other choice than to live in a tent community literally feet from the entrance ramp to a major highway.

My heart continues to see even though it’s been hours since my eyes first saw.

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

Knock, Knock, Knockin’ on Heaven’s Door

#SOL18 Day Twenty Seven

Four different patients inhabited Room 419 over the course of the 6 weeks that my mom called Room 420 home.

Three of them died.

The jury is still out on the fourth because we were discharged before knowing her fate.  But, I can assure you that I had a very serious conversation with the son of #4.

“Stay on top of things here,” I warned.  “I’m glad to see you here every day.  It is imperative that the people here know you are involved in your mom’s care.”

I didn’t go so far as to tell him that the three previous residents of Room 419 were no longer on this earth.  It was just so depressing.

All three of them occupied Room 419 for short time periods.  I got to know the relatives of #1 and #2, which made it all the more heartbreaking.  I saw the look of fear, confusion and all around sadness in their eyes at the beginning.  I could recall that feeling in myself so well.

Number 3 was especially tragic because he/she didn’t have any visitors.  Absolutely no family or friends ever managed to grace the door of Room 419.  It’s true – I wasn’t sure if this patient was a man or woman.  He/she sat cross-legged on their bed looking straight ahead at the T.V. whether it was on or off.  Very large, dark sunglasses covered half their face while a sizeable machine that was plugged in nearby hummed white noise with every labored breath he/she took.  Every single time I went to visit my mom #3 was in that same position…until one day they weren’t.

As I walked down the hall toward Room 420 on a cold December afternoon I saw a woman sitting outside of Room 419, her head hanging down.  I could also see two policemen in the distance.  I was worried about my mom until I realized what had happened.  Room 419 lost another one.

I searched my mind…What is happening here?  Is this a place where people come to die?  

I left there feeling a strong sense of urgency to get my mom the hell out of there…before the curse of Room 419 crept next door.

 

 

 

A Message That’s Out There, Stays Out There

#SOL18 Day Twenty-six

This writer’s block.

It won’t let up.

I want to be funny.

I want to be light.

What I have going through my mind is neither.

So many good things to think about – so much to be grateful for.  But, there was this text.

A text message with ramblings about feelings, worries, concerns, fears….

What?

This again?  

“I can’t text anymore – we need to talk by phone,” I replied.

We finally talked two hours later.

“That text wasn’t supposed to be sent.  I’m so sorry.  It was just a bunch of feelings I’ve been having, but I didn’t mean to send it,” she said.

“WHAT?????

Let this be a lesson to you kids out there.  Never – EVER – type a text message that you don’t mean to go public – because you just may hit “send” by mistake.

And when that happens….you can’t ever take it back.

 

 

 

 

When Vulnerability Turns to Strength

#SOL18 Day Twenty-five

On Friday one of our schools held a St. Baldrick’s “shave your head for childhood cancer” event.  It was a powerful and moving experience for everyone involved.  Approximately 10 students, along with a couple of male teachers, had their heads shaved.  As I watched the morning unfold I was overcome with emotion.  These kids.  Their decision to make a difference couldn’t have been easy.  I’m sure they were nervous and scared to sit in that chair underneath the razor – to go bald in front of everyone.  But, on a weekend where young people all over the country are rising up and finding their voices…so too were the kids in our small school community.    

I dedicate my slice to our very own young people. 

I couldn’t have been more proud.

Each and every one of their smiles were as wide as the ocean, before and after.

The excitement that emanated from their pores was palpable.  They were about to get their head shaved in front of their family, classmates and teachers.  This was something only 10 kids in their whole school signed on for.  The bonds forged here would never be broken.  Handshakes and hugs were handed out as if they had suddenly aged 10 years.

Vulnerability turned into strength and empowerment.

There was a deep, inside-the-core knowing that one simple action that they chose to take could change the world.  What if we could eradicate childhood cancers?  The pride beaming from their faces said it all.

Fear turned into conviction, uncertainty into confidence.

Character, integrity, care for others…..began to grow within these young men and one young lady.  They were living examples for the rest of their classmates and their teachers.

I left the gym that day feeling hopeful about our future.

A Letter To Me

#SOL18 Day Twenty-Four

My Dearest Daughter,

I am always so happy to see you.  You brighten my day as soon as you step into my apartment.  But, I want to tell you something.  I still know what’s going on, even though on some days it seems like I don’t…

When you came in this morning and saw that the sun was in my eyes (thank you for that) you immediately started adjusting the blinds to fix the problem.  I was glad that you noticed but you didn’t stop to listen to me.  I knew where it was coming from and I was trying to tell you.  It was the frame under the T.V.!  All you needed to do was turn it and the problem was solved.  I’m glad you finally stopped to hear what I had to say.

I know what it means when you and Lorrie whisper.  I know you are talking about me and it makes me feel bad.  I don’t know whether to try and listen or to ignore you altogether.  I would just rather you didn’t do it at all.  It’s like I’m not even in the room.

I am feeling less lonely these days.  Maybe it’s because Lorrie is here.  I know that is what you say, but I’m not sure.  The reason I’m not sure is because I would still rather have you with me.  That would make me the least lonely of all.

You went through a lot when I broke my leg.  It had to be very hard on you.  I want you to know how much I appreciate everything you did for me.  I realize that I am back in my own home today because of you.  But, I also want you to know how hard this has been for me…

I went from a “normal” life of walking around my apartment, making my meals, showering on my own and basically taking care of all my needs, to relying on others to take care of me.  I can’t even go to the bathroom on my own anymore.  Someone knocked on the door yesterday and I couldn’t even get up and answer my own door!  Lorrie was out for a walk so I had to just sit there and hope that the person would go away.

I know you love me and you want the best for me.  I just need your help to figure out how my new life looks.

Don’t worry.

I will always be happy when you walk through that door to see me.

Love,

Mom

 

 

There and Gone

#SOL18 Day Twenty-Three

I drove past around 10:00 a.m.

There were many people milling about outside.  Their attire matched the mood.  All black.  Somber.  They were shaking hands and standing with their hands in their pockets.  They were there with and for each other.

There was a long black car with many other cars nearby.  The people seemed to be waiting.  Not quite ready to leave.

The sun was shining down on them.  The heavens were opening up.

I drove past again at 1:00 p.m.

The cars were no longer there.

The people were gone.

The scene looked quite different.  There was a man on a ladder in the doorway.

Probably changing a light bulb, I thought as I slowly cruised past.  Something he had to wait to take care of.

The sun continued to shine.

May the heavens continue to embrace these people as they continue on to the rest of their most difficult day.

A Missed Door and a Rough Day

#SOL18 Day Twenty-Two

Bam!

Splat!

Oh man!

I turned to look at the door.  A young lady, around 20, was moving quickly toward the door with coffee splattered on her face, dribbling down her cheeks.

“That’s just the kind of day I’m having!” she whimpered as she quickly disappeared through the actual door.

“Carrie!  Your drink is ready!”

I picked up my drink and turned to leave.

There I saw it.  What was left of the 20-year-old’s debacle.    The window next to the door of the Starbucks was covered.  Coffee was slowly sliding down the glass, hanging on for dear life, probably not to be washed off anytime soon.

She was gone in such a hurry.  Understandably.  I wished, though, that I could have told her that it was OK.  Sometimes the window next to the door looks like the actual door.  We’ve all done it.  I know it’s embarrassing.  I really hope you have a better day.