Smiles and Sea Glass Beaches

Tonight the world is a little dimmer but the sky is a lot brighter. Today I learned of the loss of my very dear friend, Lisa Meeks.

I have always believed that we don’t meet people by accident; some people are meant to cross our paths for a reason. Sometimes it’s to teach us a lesson; good or bad. And sometimes there are people we meet who are truly a blessing in our lives. People who spread sunshine and happiness wherever they go. People whose inner light shines so very bright that it’s contagious and you cannot help but smile.

That was Lisa to me.

I met Lisa at Amelia Community Theater a few years ago. She was in the show, “Seven Year Itch” with my son, Christopher. Sometimes someone comes into your life that you instantly know you will be friends with and that’s how it was when I met Lisa. She smiled that million megawatt smile that lit up her whole face and introduced herself to me. She had the thickest Georgia accent I have ever heard in my life! It reminded me of a huskier version of Dixie Carter’s voice.

The next season, Lisa and I were in A Streetcar Named Desire together at the theater. She wore a vintage beaded cap and long black gown and looked absolutely stunning.

I remember it being the first time I noticed that she was struggling. Her hands were shaking and I could tell she was in pain. I sat with her until I was sure we didn’t need to call an ambulance. That was before I knew that it was something she dealt with quite a bit of the time, she just rarely showed it.

Later on, she was diagnosed with Huntington’s and suffered from Dystonia as well as Dyskinesia, and Chorea. Sometimes she would say, “Diane is visiting again! Damn that Dystonia Diane!” Like everything else, Lisa took the disease in stride and never let it get her down.

If you’re not familiar with Huntington’s, please look it up. In Lisa’s words, “it’s a terrible, debilitating disease that robs you of the ability to walk, talk, eat, and think. It truly eats you alive.”

Through the pain and even in the midst of a Dystonic storm when she could barely speak, she would still smile. She stayed positive and was encouraged that one day there would be a cure for Huntington’s.

She often spoke about a special place here on Amelia Island that she loved to visit to get sea glass to make jewelry with. She said it was a secret place and said one day we needed to go to the beach so she could show me. I detest the beach because of the sand but I wish now that I had said to hell with the sand and gone with her.

Even so, I’m positive there is a beach full of sea glass somewhere in heaven, with a secret little spot reserved just for Lisa.

When her disease progressed, Lisa moved back home to Georgia to be near family so I didn’t get to see her nearly often enough but our messages were almost always the same- “I miss your smile! Love you!”

Lisa loved with all her heart and made sure her friends knew she loved us. She was a breast cancer survivor and sent monthly reminders to all the ladies in her circle of friends, reminding us not to let cancer “steal second base.”

Lisa told me once, “Courage is fear that has said its prayers.” She was indeed a truly courageous woman. She said her prayers, she fought the good fight, and kept her faith.

One of her last posts on Facebook was this:

“Good morning, world! Make it count… Peace.”

Lisa always found a reason to smile.

She didn’t let Huntington’s or anything else get her down. Lisa was truly an inspiration to those of us who were blessed to know her, always reminding us to make every day count.

Just yesterday I found out she’d been admitted to the hospital again so I sent her a message to let her know that I was thinking of her and sending my love. She responded that she would see me next time she was well enough to make the trip down to Florida. I guess we’ll have to wait until we meet on that great sea glass beach in heaven instead.

I sure will miss this smile.

Rest in peace my sweet friend.

Pumpkin Spice Syrup - Take 2

Anyone who knows me at all knows that I love Pumpkin Spice anything. When asked what their favorite flavor is, most folks respond with, "vanilla", "chocolate", "mint", or the like. Not me! My response is always pumpkin spice. As a result, I'm always trying the latest pumpkin spice flavored something to come out.

Randomperson: "Would you like to try this cardboard?"
Me: "Beg your pardon??"
Randomperson: "It's pumpkin spice flavored."
Me: "Oh! Well why didn't you say that to begin with? Of course I'll try it!"

Yeah, I know. Sad, isn't it? LOL

I posted a recipe a while back for Pumpkin Spice syrup and it was my go-to recipe until recently when I decided to experiment a bit.

I needed a recipe for a larger quantity. The previous recipe only made enough for a couple of days and I rarely (see: never) shared.

Also, I wanted to try to make a syrup that was a little more "everybody friendly." Just because I like my PSL (that's Pumpkin Spice Latte for those who don't know) with cinnamon and bits of pumpkin floating in the bottom, not everyone does. As such, that recipe doesn't lend itself to many uses other than coffee.

This new one could be drizzled over pumpkin loaf or ice cream or the top of a cheesecake... oh, I could go on and on!

Suffice to say that while the old recipe is still delicious and is one I will make again some day, the following is so much better for so many reasons and is now my new favorite.

Thanks to my son, Christopher, and my dear friend, Rachel H., for being my guinea pigs!

Pumpkin Spice Syrup

6 cups white sugar
½ cup brown sugar
5 cups water
2 cinnamon sticks (see notes)
5 whole cloves (see notes)
½ tsp ground nutmeg
¼ tsp ground ginger
¼ tsp ground allspice
1 tsp vanilla
4 heaping tablespoons of canned pumpkin
cheesecloth (see notes)

Cut a small square of cheesecloth and place the ground spices and cloves in the center. Tie the cheesecloth to make a sachet.

In a heavy-bottomed pot, combine both sugars and water. Stir until dissolved. Add cinnamon sticks and spice sachet. Bring mixture to a full rolling boil and cook for five minutes, stirring occasionally.

Turn off the heat and allow to steep for at least thirty minutes. (longer, if desired)

In the meantime, prepare four pint-sized jars (see notes) with lids in a hot water bath to sterilize the jars. Once steeped, bring mixture back to a full boil and cook for another few minutes. Turn off heat and remove the cinnamon sticks and sachet. Whisk in pumpkin* and vanilla until smooth. (Please see note regarding adding pumpkin!)

Remove jars, one at a time, from the hot water bath. Fill jar, leaving ¼ in. head space in the top. Wipe the rim clean with a damp cloth and place lid and ring on top. Turn ring just tight enough to secure it. Allow to sit undisturbed until the lid seals (lightly press the middle of the lid- if it pops back up, it isn’t sealed yet) and then tighten lid the rest of the way. Enjoy!

Makes 4 pints with approximately ½ cup left over.

NOTES-

*DO NOT be tempted to add the pumpkin while the mix is still boiling. If you do, the pumpkin will coagulate and you’ll end up with goopy, slimy “syrup” with a consistency somewhat like thick egg whites. (Just trust me- you’ll be glad you did.)

I like to use cinnamon sticks and whole cloves because I keep them on hand for other recipes. You can use 1 tablespoon ground cinnamon and ¼ tsp ground cloves instead; just add them to the spice sachet before you tie it off.

Don’t let making the spice sachet scare you! It’s actually very easy to do. You can also use a fine-mesh tea ball instead of cheesecloth. The end result will be darker golden brown syrup but the taste will be the same.

Don’t skip the step where you allow the mixture to steep.

Some jams/preserves/jelly/etc recipes require further processing by putting the jars into a pot of boiling water for additional cook time- this recipe is not one of them. Once the jars are sealed, you're done.

Congo Squares

Congo Squares... my goodness, where do I even begin to describe Congo Squares? They're kinda like a blondie, but not. They're kinda like a brownie but not quite because you don't use cocoa powder. Let's see, the best way I can describe them is to say they're like the best chocolate chip cookie you've ever had except they're bars instead of cookies.

They are somewhat temperamental to make, though, so please read all of the notes before you start. If they turn out cakey or hard instead of chewy and gooey, you've done something wrong.

Brimming with buttery, chocolatey, gooey, brown sugary goodness, Congo Squares are scattered all over the pages of my childhood. I can't recall a family gathering where someone didn't make a pan of them. They're definitely a family favorite.

I honestly have no idea where the name came from. Actually, I'm not even sure where the recipe came from either but I do know that my great-grandmother used to make them frequently. No one in my family can recall a time when there was no such thing as Congo Squares.

Grandma Helen took them to church social events often. My Mama also made them. Oddly enough, I didn't make my first pan of Congo Squares until I became an adult and had been married for 10 years. I have no idea why, really, I just never tried before.

You know how sometimes someone will give you the recipe for something they've made but when you try to make it, no matter what you do, you can't duplicate their results? Well, that's how Congo Squares are. Try as you might, if you don't follow a couple of seemingly insignificant little details that mustn't be overlooked, your Congo Squares are never going to turn out right. So please try to follow the directions to the letter or they absolutely will not turn out.

I can't tell you how long they last because they've never made it past a day at our house. In fact, I made a pan this afternoon but didn't have time to take a picture to include in this post because the minute they cooled, they disappeared.

Yes, they're *that* good. Trust me on this one. :)

Congo Squares

2-3/4 cup all-purpose flour
2-1/2 t. baking powder
½ t. salt
2 sticks Parkay margarine (see notes)
1 pkg. (16 ozs) brown sugar
1 cup pecans, chopped
3 eggs
1 pkg. (12 ozs) semi-sweet chocolate chips (see notes)

Preheat oven to 350 degrees. Grease and flour two 7x11 cake pans or one 10x13 pan. (see notes)

Sift together dry ingredients, set aside. In a saucepan, melt margarine and brown sugar together. Add nuts and allow mixture to cool to room temperature.
After the butter mixture has cooled completely, add eggs, one at a time, mixing thoroughly between each egg. Pour mixture over dry ingredients and stir only enough to incorporate ingredients. Stir in chocolate chips and immediately pour into prepared pan. Bake for approximately 35 minutes or until a toothpick inserted into the middle comes out clean. Allow to cool for a few minutes and cut into squares while they’re still hot.
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*Please note- The recipe posted above is the original recipe. However, I have found that the following changes make mine turn out like they’re supposed to more consistently:

Use 2 eggs instead of 3
Reduce the flour to 2-1/4 cups instead of 2-3/4

NOTES-

As I said before, this recipe is somewhat temperamental to make. When done correctly, they turn out with a chewy brownie/blondie consistency with a crackled, glossy crust on top. When done incorrectly, they turn out cakey or hard and brittle. They're still tasty, they're just not as good as they'd be if they turn out correctly.

You *want* them to fall in the oven as they tend to be too cakey when they rise to the top of the pan. If they don’t fall on their own, shake the pan to help them fall.

Only use Parkay margarine (specifically); do not use real butter. The squares will stay soft and chewy once they cool if you use margarine due to the amount of vegetable oil/shortening used to make margarine. They’ll turn hard and somewhat brittle if you use real butter. My great-grandmother said to *only* use the Parkay brand of margarine.

I have found the following helps if you must use real butter in a pinch: add one tablespoon of shortening to the saucepan when you’re melting the butter and brown sugar mixture.

If you add the eggs to the butter and brown sugar mixture too soon, they’ll cook and cause the recipe to taste eggy. Try to let the mixture cool close to room temperature before you add the eggs.

The above ingredients are the original recipe. I usually omit the nuts and use 1/2 semi-sweet chocolate chips and 1/2 milk-chocolate chips.

This is optional but freezing the chocolate chips for at least 20 minutes before adding them to the recipe will keep them from completely melting in the oven. They'll still be melty and gooey, but freezing will help them keep their shape and prevent them from running into the batter.

Be sure to use all-purpose and not self-rising flour. Adding too much baking powder to self-rising flour will make the recipe turn out cakey and it will have a weird metallic/baking soda taste. If you must use self-rising flour, reduce the amount of baking powder to 1-1/4 teaspoons.

Using two 7x11 pans will make the squares turn out somewhat thinner.

Using one 10x13 pan will make the squares turn out thicker and a bit more dense than using two smaller pans. But if done correctly they will taste equally good.

You can use a 9x13 pan in a pinch but I have not yet been able to get mine to turn out using that size pan. They all end up too thick and/or running over the edge of the pan.

As with any recipe, using dark or coated pans will result in a medium brown crust; using an aluminum or enamel-coated pan will result in a light brown crust. However, the taste should be the same.

Funeral Sandwiches

I found this recipe on Pinterest* a few years ago and began making them for Super Bowl parties. They were such a hit with my family and friends that I'm frequently asked to make them when we have parties or are invited to a party.
My brother told me once that they're "painful." I was surprised he chose that particular word and asked what he meant. He said, "They're like freakin' crack! I can't stop eating them and end up hurting myself because I ate so many."

LOL He has a point.. they're YUMMY!!

Enjoy!

Funeral Sandwiches
(Party quantity)

4 packages of King's Hawaiian Rolls (I use the small square rolls)
1 1lb pack regular ham (see notes)
1 1lb pack regular turkey
1 package (12 slices) Muenster cheese
1 package (12 slices) American cheese
1 stick of butter, melted
3 T. Worcestershire sauce
2 T. yellow mustard
2-3 T. brown sugar
dash of onion powder
dash of garlic powder

Cut the rolls in half and line the bottom of a cookie sheet with the bottoms of the rolls. Put one layer of ham over rolls, followed by a layer of turkey. Then layer cheese over top of meat, alternating between Muenster and American so that the cheese looks somewhat like a checker board when you’re finished. You don’t need to overlap the cheese because it will melt together and sorta spread out once you put the sandwiches in the oven. Put the top layer of rolls back on top.

Using a spatula or large knife, carefully cut the sandwiches along the pre-scored lines, making sure to cut all the way through to the bottom layer. Do not separate the sandwiches- leave them close together.

Mix together the melted butter, Worcestershire, mustard, brown sugar, onion powder, and garlic powder. Drizzle the sauce over top of the sandwiches, making sure to drench each one and get down in between each sandwich.

OPTIONAL- Cover and marinate in the refrigerator anywhere from 4-24 hours. (This is why they’re called funeral sandwiches- they can be made up to a day in advance and then put into the oven just before you’re ready to eat.)

Preheat the oven to 350 degrees. Bake for 25 minutes uncovered or until cheese is melted and bun tops are a bit golden.

NOTES-
Since I am usually making these for a party, I use 4 packages of Hawaiian rolls. This recipe is easily halved or doubled based on how many servings you need.
Line your cookie sheet with tin foil and then spray with non-stick spray for easy clean-up.
Use regular/plain ham and turkey. Honey-baked, hickory smoked, or other flavored varieties will make the sandwiches taste bizarre.
I use Muenster and American cheeses because I like the way they melt and it’s what my family prefers; you can use whatever variety you’d like.
You can adjust the amount of mustard, Worcestershire, and brown sugar based on your personal preference.

*I'm usually a stickler for citing my source when I post a recipe, however, I found this one on Pinterest. Since there are several pins that list this recipe, I'm not sure which one was the original source. For reference- several different versions of this recipe can be found on Pinterest. Thanks!

Because I Am His Umbrella

This blog post was sparked by the following post, originally posted by George Takei:

Severe Anxiety Explained

One of my sons deals with severe anxiety EVERY.SINGLE.DAY. of his life. He deals with social phobia the severity of which renders him homebound frequently. Meds help, but they don't completely "fix" the problem.

Anxiety is real, folks. It's not something you can just "get over" or turn off like a light switch. It isn't something that you can control.

Its debilitating and crippling. Its frustrating and aggravating. It infiltrates a family and changes its dynamic.

It isn't a way to get attention. If anything, he wishes he could just disappear and not draw attention to himself.

Sometimes my son looks "fine" or "normal" (whatever that is), and he seems okay when he most definitely is not.

Other times, he's a fun-loving, carefree kid enjoying spending time with his friends like he's supposed to at this age.

The catch is: he never knows which it's going to be. There are triggers and we certainly try to avoid them as best we can, but he can't control the anxiety any more than he can control the weather.

The most frustrating thing for me as his mother is there isn't a lot I can do to help. God what I wouldn’t give if I could just take it from him and let it be me rather than him!

Instead, I am his umbrella.

I crawl inside his sofa cushion fort and ride out the anxiety with him.

I snuggle next to him and let him hide his face in my shirt while pretending I'm the one who needs a hug to keep him from being embarrassed.

I splash his face with cold water when he's in a full blown panic attack and can't catch his breath.

I clean up my car and help him change clothes when the very thought of having to be in an unknown situation causes him to vomit uncontrollably.

I patiently listen when he obsesses over perceived wrongs and continually repeats things that are bothering him; things that most people would simply shake off and then move on.

I get him the very best mental healthcare available; driving over a hundred miles round-trip to see the best child psychiatrist in the area.

I fight for him and jump through any hoop I need to in order to make his struggle a little easier.

I react immediately when he tells me he doesn’t feel right. I consider myself extremely fortunate that he’s self-aware and trusts me enough to come to me and tell me something is wrong. Some parents don’t have the chance to help their kids who are struggling before it’s too late.

If you're friend or family to someone who also suffers from severe anxiety, be their umbrella. Your kindness, understanding, caring, and love may be the thing that helps make their life a little easier today.

The Peace of the Bathroom

Some people bake, some people knit, some people run... I write. It's what I do instead of stabbing people.

I was working on a story several months ago that I got stuck on. I had the basic outline, I just couldn't figure out which direction I wanted to go so I put it down for a bit and moved on to something else.

I woke up this morning thinking about that one story and suddenly knew exactly where it should go. So I decided to bounce it off of Dan. I explained the whys, wheres, hows, and let him give me feedback. He was stoked. He said he really liked it and couldn't wait for me to finish it.

He gets really excited when I mention a story that I may have an ending to because I am notorious for starting one and never finishing it. I have what I jokingly call "OCED" or Obsessive Compulsive Editing Disorder. I can't seem to write a chapter and leave it be- I must go back and edit the bajeebus out of it.

Anyhow, I made a pot of coffee, grabbed my laptop, and settled down in the living room.

Dan turned on baseball and I thought, "Oh good, it's baseball; I can write with baseball on in the background." Then he flipped to recorded episodes of Jeopardy. I kinda half-heartedly watched some of it while I was re-reading what I'd already written. Five episodes of Jeopardy later, he asked if I would mind rehearsing his show with him.

I replied, "No I don't mind, but can I do it later?"
He said, "But I really need to get this memorized."
I said, perhaps a bit more abruptly than I intended, "I thought you wanted me to write! Do you or do you not want me to get this done? I thought you were excited about me possibly finishing something?"

He apologized and turned off the TV. Every few minutes, he would laugh and show me something he found on Facebook or ask if I'd heard of something that happened recently.

This is what happens when I go on a field trip with my kids and he doesn't see me for an entire day. It's good to know he misses me.

Finally, I got up and said I was headed to the bathroom. I'm currently sitting here with my laptop, typing this. No, I didn't need to actually use the facilities, I'm just sitting here. I'm fairly sure it's the only room of the house in which I can sit quietly and not be disturbed.

Meanwhile, I have exactly three new sentences written on the story that I saw so clearly in my head this morning. Three.

/sigh I haven't even killed off the main character yet.

Am I the only one who's ever wondered if a recliner would fit in their bathroom?

Vida Paraiso

The following is a dream I had a few weeks ago. I wrote most of it the moment I woke up, even before coffee. Then I went back later and filled in small details. I usually keep my dreams to myself because they're typically pretty silly, but this one was so very real to me that I woke up with tears streaming down my face and it took me a few seconds to realize where I was- in my own bed. For a brief moment, I could still feel the cool breeze and smell the salty air.
I've only shared this with a few others because it is about my Mama and it is personal. Not a day goes by that I don't think of her and miss her terribly. But I also believe that wherever she is right now, she's having more fun than she's had in years and I cannot begrudge her that, no matter how much my heart aches for her.

(I'm not much for dream interpretation; I usually just take them as they come. So when Ricky Ricardo appears out of nowhere, chalk it up to my brain being silly and please don't judge. :) )
__________________________________

“Come with me!” Mama said, grabbing my hand and pulling me towards the bow.
The ship’s ready to leave port and I know she wants to watch the people shouting “bon voyage” and throwing colored paper streamers like something from an old-time movie.
Her excitement is contagious and I giggle as I allow her to push me up to the railing. Next to us are Elizabeth and Aunt Kat, already waving as the ship begins moving away from the dock.
“Who are you waving at?” I asked Elizabeth.
Elizabeth smiled and replied, “Does it matter? They all wave back. Try it and see!”
I look at the crowd of nameless faces and begin waving and blowing kisses at the air like a haughty celebrity bidding adoring fans adieu. Several people I’d likely never see again blew kisses back at me.
The wind picks up as the enormous ship moves down the channel, blowing our skirts and nearly stealing our matching sun hats. Glancing over at Mama and Aunt Kat, I think, probably for the millionth time, how much they look alike and yet so different.
One has long red hair, tied up in a bun on top of her head; the other, shoulder-length brown hair. Both have a hint of well-earned grays at the temple. They both strongly resemble their mother.
As I catch Elizabeth’s eye, I see that she, too, has been watching them. Without her saying, I know she is thinking the same as I.
A male voice interrupts my thoughts. “Ladies, would you care for a Bon Voyage cocktail?” I glance over at the handsome young man in a crisp sailor’s uniform with a tray in his hands and it occurs to me that he could be a young Ricky Ricardo. His thick accent is melodic and I half-way expect him to break out into a rendition of “Babaloo.”
“Our special tonight is ‘Vida Paraíso’,” he informs us. “It’s a lovely tropical fruit concoction with rum and coconut. You will love it.”
“’Vida Paraíso’?” I ask.
“It means ‘Paradise Life’,” He replies with a twinkle in his eye.
We burst into laughter at the translation, remembering a time when several of us drove vehicles with one of the many “Life” stickers on the back.
“Yes, uh…” I glance at the young man’s name tag, “Balthazar, we’ll each have a ‘Vida Paraíso’, please.”
“’Balthazar’?” Mama interrupts. “Like one of the three Wise Men?”
He nods and gives Mama a slight, regal bow. “The same, Senora.”
Though I know it’s incredibly rude of me, I cannot help myself. “I thought you were Persian!”
“Sometimes I am,” Balthazar smiles enigmatically and then winks at me, “Today, I am Ricky Ricardo.”
As he disappears to get our drinks, Elizabeth links arms with mine and begins walking towards a miraculously empty table with four chairs.
Mama and Aunt Kat follow and before long, we’re simply enjoying each other’s company, chattering away about everything and nothing.
Brilliant rays of gold, pink, purple, and orange paint the cloudless sky as we watch the sun dipping slowly into the sea to the west. Behind us, delicately shimmering blue begins creeping across the sky.
“What’s it like…” I begin but have to pause to clear the sudden lump in my throat. “What’s it like at the port where the ship stops?”
“It’s indescribably beautiful,” Mama tells me. “Think of the most beautiful place you’ve ever been- times a billion- and it’s even better than that.”
I’m speechless for a moment, trying to comprehend what she’s telling me.
“What do you do there?” I ask when I find my voice again.
Mama grins and shrugs, “Anything we want! Yesterday, we played on a tire swing and picked buttercups. Then Kat made a pot of Seven Minute frosting and we ate the whole thing.”
Caught up in her happy mood, I laugh as I find myself remembering a time when we made ourselves sick by eating an entire pot of Seven Minute frosting.
My heart smiles as I imagine Mama and Aunt Kat playing on a tire swing and picking buttercups like the little girls they once were.
“Star light, star bright, first star I see tonight…” Elizabeth sings softly. “I wish I may, I wish I might,” Mama and I join in. “Have the wish I wish tonight,” we all finish the rhyme together.
“What did you wish?” Aunt Kat asks.
“Oh no!” Elizabeth says in a mock-serious tone, wagging her forefinger back and forth. “If I tell, it won’t come true.”
Balthazar returns with four brown coconut cups with bright pink paper umbrellas skewered through pineapple sticking out of the top. “Compliments of the Captain,” he says with a dramatic flourish as he places them on our table.
We each lift the little coconut cups and toast. “To before,” I say, though not sure why I chose that word.
My companions seem to understand. “To before,” they repeat in unison and we sip our fruity rum cocktails.
Mama puts her cup down, reaches over and grasps my hand, tenderly squeezing. “It will be again, love; one day. It’s just not time yet.”
“It’s peaceful here, don’t you think?” Aunt Kat asks quietly.
A comfortable silence descends as we watch the very last sliver of fiery sunshine slip below the waves. Slowly, the gold, pink, and orange give way to crimson, purple, and finally, a deep jewel-toned blue.
Millions of stars begin to glitter above us, peeking out from their daytime hiding places.
The deck is nearly empty now; only a few whispering couples linger on, taking advantage of the ample shadows and the rhythmic sway of the ship.
Reaching over, Mama pulls off my hat, freeing my long auburn hair to blow in the breeze. “It’s time, my girl.” Her tone is wistful and I know she wishes I didn’t have to go.
“I know, Mama. Just a few minutes more? Please?”
Standing, Mama pulls me to my feet and into her arms for a long hug. She’s strong; much more so than I remember. The last time I hugged her when she could hug me back, she felt so frail and weak, and I hugged carefully so I wouldn’t hurt her. She’s so strong now that I hold on tightly.
“You don’t have your oxygen tank!” I suddenly realize, shocked that I haven’t noticed before now.
“Nope!” I can feel the rise and fall of her shoulders as she sucks in a deep easy breath and then lets it out. “I don’t need it here.”
I stand there inhaling her precious scent, knowing there is none other like it in the world.
Looking over, I see Elizabeth and Aunt Kat are in a similar embrace. “There’s no need for tears here,” Aunt Kat says, “you can come back again tomorrow and the day after if you’d like.”
“And the day after that too,” Mama adds and then she pulls back, tucking an errant strand of hair behind my ear. “I am so proud of you! Never doubt that,” she says with a slight squeeze of my hands, “Make sure you kiss those boys and your Daddy for me. I miss them all so much!”
When I promise I that will, she lets go reluctantly, steps back, and I know that it’s time for me to go.
“We’ll be right here,” Aunt Kat says in a slightly echoing voice.
Elizabeth reaches for my hand, gripping it tightly, and the two of us begin to slowly ascend, as though a breeze has scooped us up.
As we drift away, Mama and Aunt Kat hold hands and wave at us. The thought comes to me that they’ve never looked more beautiful, happier, or more at peace than they do at that moment. There's no pain, no regret, no hurt, and no anger between them; only two sisters reunited once again.
We watch them fading into the distance, becoming smaller as we rise higher, until they’re nearly out of sight.
“I love you, Mama!” I call.
“I love you, too,” her voice little more than a whisper, “I’ll always love you.”

Happy 13th Birthday, Daniel! :)

My “baby” is now a teenager; I am the mom of a teenager!! Holy moly, when did that happen? Seems like just a year or so ago I had a tiny newborn in my arms, blinked, and next thing I knew, my tiny newborn was taller than me.

On a chilly Saturday afternoon, in a quiet, darkened room (because my nurse had a migraine), my sweet Daniel came screaming into the world. I literally do mean screaming, too. When the doctor told me to stop pushing for a moment so he could ease his shoulders out one at a time, Daniel started screaming before the rest of his body was in the doctor’s hands… and hasn’t stopped talking yet.

Daniel is the most laid-back, carefree soul you’ll ever meet. He’s got an innate “not a care in the world” quality about him that you can’t help but wish you had a little of. That’s not to say that he doesn’t care about life, of course, I just mean that he doesn’t worry about what’s going to happen tomorrow; Daniel takes life as it is, head-on, today.

Around 5’10 or so, Daniel stands head and shoulders above most of his friends. His best friend’s mom told me about something that happened a few days ago at school that had me giggling:

Daniel was sitting with his best friend, Will, and another kid came up and put his behind in their faces. Will told the kid to knock it off and the kid came back with a smart “whatcha gonna do about it??” sorta remark. Daniel simply stood up and towered over the kid, whose eyes got wide as he took in Daniel’s size. He said, “I’m not scared of you!” and then quickly ran away. Will and Daniel had a good laugh about it. As did I when I imagined Daniel slowly standing up like Andre the Giant and simply staring at this snotty kid without saying a word.

The irony of it is that Daniel is one of the sweetest kids you’ll ever meet. Truly a gentle soul, there isn’t a mean bone in his body. He won’t allow someone to run over him, but he’d never be a bully either.

He’s a hugger. I’m probably telling on him a bit here but he loves to come snuggle up with me on the sofa. He’s also quick to reach over and grab me (or his Daddy, brother, aunt, uncle, grandparents, etc.) for a big bear hug.

He’s smart. Oh my god is he smart! I’ll admit it- he’s smarter than me. He’s smarter than I’ll ever be. He thinks of ideas and comes up with theories that have never occurred to me on my best day. I expect that he’ll come up with something one day that changes the world.

He’s extraordinarily kind. He always tries to include everyone. He’ll even make up a reason why the smallest kid should win the prize or why the only girl in the group was the best, just to make sure no one is excluded.

He’s simply an amazing kid. I often wonder how I ended up with such a great kid and I thank God several times each and every day that He gave him to me.

Today, on his 13th birthday, I want him to know that no matter what he decides to do, no matter where he goes, no matter who he chooses to spend his life with… he’ll always have a very proud mother who loves him more than she can describe.

Happy Birthday, Doodlebug! I love you, kid.