Family on the Beach

We are back from the beach and salt water hair and not enough sunblock and too much ice cream. This weekend felt like old fashioned summertime. Visiting John's mother with loads of extra family added including two babies which just make you smile constantly. Beach walks, family talks, too much food and then some bonus time alone on the beach. Rumors of sharks made it more exciting and real sitings of schools of seals made it sweet.

Somehow we got to here which includes in-laws that I love, family stories that we are part of now, and an ease with past and present both real and normal.

Came home to news of two deaths--a friend to cancer and a former colleague to medication errors. In its own sad comparative way that made the weekend sweeter too. Life is short. The reminders are all around us. I still worry about every little thing and work too hard and want the writing to be "just-so" and then I think, "just for today".

It's a good summer this year. I'm glad we are in it.

Loves Long Walks on the Beach

This weekend felt like a good Hallmark card or a bad Match.com posting. A beautiful fall weekend on Cape Cod. On the drive there we laughed listening to Tina Fey “Bossypants”. Ate steamers and fried clams and blueberry pie. John did chores. I hit the jackpot at TJ Max. And we had long, long walks on the beach. Holding hands. Laughing. We saw a friend’s new house. Went to the movies. Felt so grateful for our lives. This is one of those times when it feels like the clouds parted. I feel grateful for every struggle and every minute of therapy that got us here. Not that I want to relive any of it. No, but I do love long walks on the beach

Beach Surrender

We went to the beach this weekend. I go alone in the morning to pray, writing the names of each person on the edge of the shore and watching to see the water come up and take the prayer away.

This weekend I wrote the names of all of our family members his and mine, spouses and kids, siblings also. I wrote his name and my name and I wrote my workplace too. I live in the gap between wanting to make a complete surrender, making that surrender for an instant or a moment and then, seeing, even as I walk aback to my car fear returns and my wish to control something or someone is already back in my head.

Surrender is such an imperfect process but I do think it is a process. I really do wonder about people who say they have done it and it’s done. Do they really never worry again? Worry means I still think I can affect an outcome. Curiosity might be the antithesis of worry. Being able after surrender, to wonder: “I wonder how God is going to play this one out?”

These are the things I surrender and later worry: His health, our relationship, his family, having time together, my health, money, my job, my stepdaughter, my granddaughter, his sons, my ex-husband, his ex-wife.

Maybe this worry of mine too is something I need to surrender.

Over and over I surrender and return to these things.

The ocean’s rhythm is familiar; in and out, in and out, washing, soothing, wearing me down.

A Day at the Beach

I am at the beach and having my week alone. The cottage I rented is perfect. It’s like a doll house. A one person house with living room, office area, small dining area and a kitchen. There is one small bedroom with space for one double bed, a night table with clock and lamp, and a small built-in counter that serves as a vanity. There are lamps everywhere. This is a house for reading. The woman who owns the house is a photographer and it makes sense. It’s a teeny tiny house with perfect lighting. Anywhere you sit you can also read.

I have come here to write and I have come here to remember me. I need to remember me before him. I need to feel my edges again. I need to recall what I like to read, eat and watch on TV. That is one of the surprises. Watching the tiny television—everything is doll sized, my sized—I watch Gossip Girls and Desperate Housewives. I do not watch baseball. In the car I listen to WGBH—Boston’s NPR station. I like the news, I like the political analysis. This is better NPR than we have at home. I brought music and I brought spiritual talks on CD but I love listening to WGBH. I do not listen to music.

I do not wear makeup here. I take a shower at midday after I have been writing and after I have been to the beach. My hair is fine without a blow-dryer. I look at my face without makeup. This is my face. This is me.

I am at home here. Inside this cottage and inside of me. I do not want to give this up.