" A great artist is never poor"-Isak Dinesen

Confession

I have a confession to make: my parents were hoarders. What began as a simple collection evolved into hoarding over time. I feel ashamed to admit this; it feels like a betrayal of my parents, whom I love with all my heart. The truth is that the transition from collecting to hoarding happens gradually.

It occurs when purchases begin to take over, when a path has to be cleared from one room to another, and when the things you own can't be found when needed. I was upset while my parents were alive because I felt they were not safe. My mom fell and broke her hip, which made me worry even more. I saw their quality of life diminish as their possessions accumulated.

Now that they have passed away, I feel the weight of the burden they left behind. As I confront the mess, my emotional wounds do not heal; they remain open. Every time a scab starts to form over the wound, something triggers it again. It’s a deep wound that keeps reopening without any chance to heal truly.

Simple and perfect

A sign of the times

When Daniel comes home from school I always ask him about his day. The first response is "fine". Minutes later he will share a tidbit about his day. In the evening when we read we converse about the book we are reading and thoughts spill over. A topic we read about evokes a memory and then Daniel tells me his stories about his day. Daniel was sharing with me the news about his teachers. The specials teachers had to resort to teaching regular classes because of budget cuts and school running out of funds. He witnessed  his art teacher dropping off her regular class at her old art class. His voice trailed sadly " I bet she misses it" I could hear the empathy in his voice." She loved teaching art and she loved her class." I looked at my son and I felt the way he did. We felt sadness. I realized how children observe everything. Children know by watching. Children know by feeling. The pain that they see all around them teaches them the hard reality life can be. It teaches them compassion . It teaches them lessons learned too soon.

Joshie Otter

" I miss you today" I told you.
" When do you not miss me mom"
you questioned.
I laughed , how true!
As an infant I cradled you
in your sleep
watching the wonder that you are.
I listened to your breathing
watching the lines of your face.
My heart was full with love,
my soul was soaring.
You are a man ,
you listen to me
you lift me
you humble me.
You make me want to be
the best .
You make me want to soar.
My precious son,
my love,

my life.

Collecting

I am a collector. You could say that it's in my DNA. Both my parents were collectors. I think my first collection started when I was six. It consisted of pretty paper napkins. The napkins had various flowers and various designs. When I was a teenager I began collecting thimbles. When I was in my twenties I collected tea sets and miniatures. Some of the things that I collected remind me of special places that I found them. A part of the joy was in the hunt for them. I would find a special piece and I would decide that it had to be mine. Collecting is magical . Collecting can become an obsession. Collecting can turn into hoarding.  Now that I am in my forties I collect experiences.  Experiences  such as a wonderful vacation, a wonderful meal, a wonderful concert. Life comes and life ends.  The  only things that are  left are the memories that we share with our loved ones.

A Year

At a difficult time in my life my mom said to me that she thinks that she made me out of steel. she thought that
I had inner strength. What my mom didn't know was that the strength she believed I possessed  would
dissipate  when I had to watch her die. How the pain of losing her would leave a scar in my soul. I have gone through feelings of anger,guilt, sadness, and acceptance. Last year at this time I was desperate for her pain to end. The pain of losing her brought me to my knees. The strength the she believed that flows through my veins
carries me through this journey.

Beauty

March 2003

A cloudy day in search of treasure,
we found a sea urchin,
a parrot fish and a
Pelican looking for a meal.
Our eyes feast at the beauty
that surround  us .
You my little boy smile
and call out, "Hi Pelican"
offering a cookie crumb
sticking to your chubby fingers.
You amaze me,
sweet wonder
God's blessing,
My son!
We are surrounded by  clear blue waters
beauty everywhere
you absorb it all.
Grandpa with his fishing net,
daddy with his fishing rod

and you a born fisherman.

Intruder

My mother in-law was in church praying when her house was broken into. She was at church when her peace of mind was invaded and her world was violated. Someone entered uninvited . Someone  walked into this clean peaceful home and walked up the stairs. The stairs adorned with family photographs. Four generations of smiling faces hung on the wall.There is even a photograph of my mother in law's father after he saved himself and he rescued a train of Armenian children that were headed to death if it wasn't for his courage and spirit.
Someone had come into this house and they took a box of jewelry. Sentimental items that were gifts for different occasions. Another box was taken, a box of award pins that were given for excellence at work and charitable work at the church. Fun jewelry was taken,necklaces that my sister in law played with when she was a child. Necklaces that she thought that she would share in play with her own daughter. Colorful necklaces of reds and purples, the kind of necklaces that make little girls feel special.
This someone took her computer. The computer had the story of the family history that she's been attempting to capture through memory. A history to leave behind for the next generation. Her computer which is a link to family and friends through email and facebook. My little one asked me who would do such a thing and I answered a bad person that's who. There was no hesitation in my reply and there was no doubt in my mind.

Dinner

" What are we having for dinner?" my husband asks. We review what we had for dinner during the week. We question what we desire to eat. A universal question in many households. We are aware that we are blessed to have choices unlike many other people in the world. Still, there are days when meals are nurtured and days when meals are rushed due to the schedule. The magic happens when a few items are left in the refrigerator and my husband whips up a  delicious meal. Cooking with love and the love of cooking is the answer. I am lucky that he has both.

Fourth Grade

It was bed time and Daniel announced how happy he is that summer was ending and school was beginning.
There was savoring the last week of freedom. There was playing in the pool and going to the movies.
There was playing on the DSi  and a trip to Borders to buy book number eight of the 39 Clues series.

And today we went to visit his new classroom. He is entering fourth grade. I watched his excitement and  I took it all in. I was delighted that he will be in the same classroom with his best friend. I was delighted that his teacher stated that she is a creative instructor. I was delighted as he asked her questions  such as " are we going to learn mythology this year?" all due to  a creative influence from  the Percy Jackson series. I watched as I do many times. I didn't interfere when he said his strength was art. I didn't correct him. Because I believe in him. I value his thoughts and his dreams . If his teacher would have asked me what his strengths are  I would have said everything. He is a thinker and a dreamer and I love that.

A perfect day

Daniel

You tell me tales
about your day.
You tell me tales about
the trail of sand in your shoes.
You tell me tales about fossils
that you excavate in the school yard.
You are so proud
of the treasures that you find,
coconut leaves
and rocks.
You tell me tales
about the games
that you invent
and about a shark
that you draw.
I listen to your tales
amazed by every story
that you tell.
I listen to your tales
happy to be the keeper of your tales.
I listen and treasure your tales
the way I treasure you.

Goodbye

A year ago I kissed you goodbye.
I watched you as you lay in peace as your suffering ended.
Your beauty angelic, your beauty present.
I said goodbye, I held you the way you held me so many times.
You had brought me into this world and now I was witnessing you leaving it.
My thoughts have flooded my being, a wave of emotions as rapid as your last breaths.
I have revisited a lifetime of memories.
I have questioned choices that we made, while you were still alive.
Choices that were difficult because we didn't want you to suffer.
Choices that are still hard and yet should be light because of your pain and your quality of life. Your fingers were bruised by needles. Needles that pointed to your map of suffering.
Your arms and legs swollen from shutting down.
My soul in a rage, my spirit lost. All I wanted was for you to be free.
I wanted you to have peace.
Now you do.
" I miss you mom "
I only wish you know how much!