the day of love

Valentine's Day.

Here you are again.

Oh boy.

This holiday and I have always seemed to have a bit of a strained, but funny, complex, yet simple, and all the while a slightly bitter relationship. It's really not my fault entirely that this holiday and I have been on the fritz for most of my years now. 

Perhaps it's because the holiday revolves around pastel pinks & sassy reds while I am much more of a deep green & autumnal yellow girl. Or maybe it's because I secretly think roses are drab little flowers. But, honestly if I could place the blame anywhere {and I'm about to} I would put it, one-hundred percent, twenty absolutely's, and a service full of hallelujahs on:

High School.

It was the high school  l o v e  that I was not about. The awkward hand-holding, the carnation giving, the boxes of chocolate, and don't get me going about those little stuffed teddy bears. Barf. 

In high school.

On Valentine's Day

this girl wore 

black.

Yes black.

From head to toe.

I like to fancy this young push back against society as my earliest flirtations with my feminist awakening ... {wink. wink. elbow. elbow}

And while I would hate to limit and dismiss any rumblings of political engagement, I think there was something much simpler that I saw missing in my high school environment.

l o v e

for

oneself.

It might sound silly,

But I believe this is some of the hardest work of all.

Sometimes I need small reminders.

To choose myself.

To love the quirks.

The failures.

The aspiration.

To accept myself right now

just as I are ...

even without the list of New Years Resolutions.

It's hard work.

Hard, hard work.

Easier for some than others.

But it's our work

And it's good work

And that my friends ...

That is  l o v e. 

Sending you all my  l o v e  today.

From this girl,

who this year is wearing pink!!

- n.

{actually, no no. I couldn't do it. I can still celebrate and wear green. I can!}

Happy Valentine's Day.

extra courage.

start.
...hesitate.
start again.
then...stop.


i watched a young girl
do this precise
dance
while trying to cross the street
this morning.


cars passing her by the many
she struggled to know
when.
to make that move.
that step.


i wanted her to be careful.
the cars were moving too quickly
for neighborhood streets and
paying no mind
to a little girl 
in a purple hood.


you can do it,
i heard myself whisper inside
my thoughts.


those first steps often require
the most intention.
and courage.

directions were being hollered
from across the street.
"go, go, go!"
"no, no. wait wait!"
"come on!"


but still she hesitated.
something hesitated.

no doubt she could do it
on her own.
she looked more than capable with
a younger-brother-hand 
tightly
encased in her own.
no doubt she'd done it
countless
times before.


but sometimes the road.
the same as yesterday
looks different
today.
the thing you did yesterday
it feels unknown today.
different somehow.


another car.
"not yet!"
"wait wait!"
"no, no, not now."


and sometimes
even those trying to be helpful
are just words
floating
in the space around you.


the intention
and courage are inside.
you know they are.
but summoning them
in that moment
seem impossible.


there i was.
standing next to the
purple hood.


sometimes asking is the 
hardest part.


i put my hand out.
found her wide brown eyes
staring back at me.
"maybe we can go together."
i ask.


she breathed deep
and nodded up at me.


and together we went.
both
fully capable on our own.
but together nonetheless.


sometimes we need 
that extra
courage.
to do the very thing
right in front of
us.


today.
may that extra courage
find you.


mine did.


- n.

i beg you...

i beg you,

to have patience with

everything

unresolved in your heart.

and to try.

to love the questions

themselves.

as if they were

locked

in a room

or

books written in

a very foreign

language.

don't search for the answers,

which could not be

given to you now.

because you would not

be able to

live 

them.

and the point?

to live.

everything.

live the questions now.

perhaps then,

someday

far in the future.

you will gradually,

without even

noticing it...

you will live your way

into the answers.

so today.

breath in.

and breath out.

look around.

what do you see?

poem compliments of Rainer Maria Rilke. 

i added and changed the style a bit.

peanut butter.

sometimes the circumstances of life
give us no choices.
or at least.
the choices are
...limited and 
just plain unfortunate.


exhibit a:
peanut butter.
typically 
upon a trip to the local
grocer.
it is hard to not be overwhelmed 
by the selection.


but this.
is not currently true 
about my grocery shopping experience.
and so i am left with
limited choices:
like Skippy Peanut Butter.
[just plain unfortunate].


it's been a few now 
since one
g.i.a.n.t
jug of Skippy has been consumed.


and upon completion.
i knew.
this could not happen again.


so i bought some peanuts.
from the local grandmother
selling her collection
on the corner.


after a trip to the local
superstore.
i left proudly cradling a
blender slash food processor,
that i was 
convinced would greatly 
enhance my life.

three ingredients. 

peanuts.
canola oil.
and some locally grown honey.


i'm still working out
the perfect combination of
the three.


but generally
it goes something
like this:


2 cups of peanuts.
2 tablespoons of oil.
1 long drizzle of honey.


grind well.
yet cautiously.
because some
blenders slash food processors
are better than others.


so.
go easy.on.her.

and soon you will realize.

that limited options

only happen

with a limited imagination

and determination.

and i can now

proudly say,

Skippy?

oh is that a children's game?

i am just
a beginner in my 
tales of peanut butter making.
so any suggestions for

tweaks and adjustments

would be greatly toiled over.

[and appreciated].

pass them on please!

until the next 

peanut butter adventure...

some favorite things

dear mom.

somethings i really like to do

with you.

and only you...


like getting up early to
share a cup of tea.


like pulling up our pant-legs 
mid-march,
to show
neither of us
wearing socks.


like shopping,
wandering around
and enjoying the beauty
of lovely things.


like red shoes.
stealing...
oh i mean
...
borrowing.
borrowing each others 
coveted shoe finds.


like morning walks
through the woods
behind the house of my childhood.


like dreaming about the future
and what it could hold
for both of us.


like telling you all about
the things that
seem to be running around
in my brain.


like riding in your
car
with the top down
and singing along to our 
favorite musicals
for all to hear.


so today.
as mother's day approaches.
i just want to say,
thanks for being my mom.
thanks for choosing to wear
this title:
mother.


you bear it well.
you've pursued it beautifully.
i admire that it is but
one of the many titles
you bear
that make up who you are.


so thanks.
because i really enjoy
being your
daughter.


and being the one
who gets to remind you
of this choice you made,
every time
i call you...

"mom".


love & love.
your daughter,


me.