Yann called
missing me
tempting me to foregoing quarantine
to come home...
he said,
“ Gabriel is coming here tomorrow,”
(you see Chelsea and Martin will be with us for summer as Martin can work from home,)
Yann continued,
“... and I am going to cuddle him, play roll the ball with him, smell his sweetness, push him in the swing and do all the things you cannot do cause you won’t be here.”
I laughed at his sweet tease and said...
“The second thing I am going to do after I love You up is squeeze Gabriel the Butterball until every drop I have missed gathers up into one big happy juicy hello. So you better do what you can because when I get home I am never putting him down.”
...
In a few more days I will be home
time will evaporate as it does
and it will feel like the never ending river flow
of life.
Back in France. Surreal experience at the airports with the haunting emptiness and everyone respectfully wearing masks at times I thought I was in a science fiction film. I arrived last night in Paris and will stay at our apartment to self-quarantine so I haven’t seen my family yet. It feels odd to be this close and not home. But self-quarantine is what we are expected to do to keep everyone safe, and I would not want to inflict anyone if I have it. In a few days (after five months a few days is nothing much to ask) I will go home. The real count down is now! Thank you for your messages I appreciated each one of them.
My brother drove up to my mom’s home, then he got out with his two children and jumped in...
Who says you cannot bring a pool to the party?
So unexpected and original my mom and I laughed and laughed. We did not get it due to self distancing but man oh man was the temptation great!
I like to squeeze the toothpaste in the middle, I always have.
I can't help it the plump spot just aching for a squeeze tempting me like a pinch to a fat baby's cheek.
There are certain things we aren't supposed to do.
Rules of life tangled up with meaningful purpose, strict and formal, stiff and sobering,
dictating with a gnawing voice inside, "don't do it."
Often, we might think we can't do something, though, in reality, we can, yet we don't, blaming it on rules of this or that, or the timing, possibly weighing the consequences with a mixture of uncertainty and fear... the what-if factor.
If I could, I would, and yet I can so why don't I?
Hence, my remedy a symbolic act of conquering fear:
Squeeze the toothpaste.
Life is running alongside us begging us to take hold,
literally feeding us with all it has
surrounding us with an invisible yet visible bountiful blanket.
How easy it is to be blinded by the beautiful abundance,
as we wake up to a new day with too many stars and grains of sand to count.
Whatever brings you joy no matter how small let it led you,
let it root inside of you, and water it with your longing.
Zinnias' unpretentious joyous wonder can make me smile without even trying with their pop-pop colorful sturdy stock. Zinnias remind me of home, which reminds me of childhood, which reminds me of summer, blackberry pies, and swimming at my cousins' home then coming back for dinner with a bouquet of zinnias on the kitchen table which reminds me of home and the swirl starts over again.
Summer was bliss is bliss and may it be bliss for years to come.
I am grateful for those days that formed me, that have surrounded me these last few months, simple pleasures, nature's surprises yet constantness the crop duster overhead, the chartreuse rice fields, the starlings dancing intricately in remarkable patterns overhead, and the cornucopia of summer's harvest.
Grateful, spoiled, soaking it up while letting it run through me.
Early evening my nieces, mom, and sister in law drive alongside the rice fields to a certain magical juicy place to pick wild blackberries. We are addicted to picking, to staining our hands violet, to giggling how many blackberries there are, challenging ourselves to pick more, wondering how many pies my mom can make in a year. During this Covid 19 time when I have heard many say, "I am over it" I hear myself giving thanks for the luxury of picking wild blackberries with my family as the sunsets... a simple pleasure unrushed, giving, endless and restorative to mind, heart and soul.
Counting goodness where it is sending it as a prayer to those in need, may this unexpected joy reach into my brother's tumors and bring a healing change.
Prayer is that to take what we have and send it forward be it work, effort, time, energy, resources, blackberry picking, the joy we feel, the ache we carry...
Today I will be a zinnia and send you colorful virtual hugs.
A million wonders in those petals that don't ask for anything.
Photo via Kaari Meng
Our chat will be on Kaari Meng's French General's Instagram live and on YouTube.
I must say as happy I am to be asked to be part of French General's chat I am a bit nervous too. As those of you who have been reading me for ten thousand moons know, I seldom share photos of myself since I am timid in front of the camera plus very self-conscious of that thing called age. But here I go full throttle with an online interview. You might say this is like doing a bungee cord jump. After I agreed to do the live interview with Kaari I realized two other things one I haven't brushed my hair since self-imposed shelter in place and seriously what am I going to wear since the clothes I brought in February are too hot and the clothes I wear now... tank top, shorts, and a baseball cap I do not recognize myself. As you can see I haven't started freaking out about what the chat is going to be about which is more important than what I am going to wear, insert laughing out loud, funny how the unimportant things take the front seat when worrying.
So I hope you will stop by and watch Kaari and me share what we love about all things French because honestly, after not being in France at the brocante let alone not being in Yann's arm's or squeezing Gabriel, I might cry talking about it all. Gee, I hope I don't cry.
Teasing aside We are going to have a good time I hope you will join us.
the saying goodbye part is stirring
how could it not
knowing I will be going home makes it a soft landing
saying goodbye this time feels different as you can well imagine
I am trying to focus on the absolute lucky chance, the beautiful chance I have been given instead of the hard goodbye.
a barn I walk by nearly every day admiring the rusty tin siding.
I have had ample time to notice the littlest of things such as the coloring of petals.
The spots on ladybugs
blades of grass
clouds
the developing stages of pomegranates, blackberries, rice, cattails, black walnuts, almonds, figs, and
the dance of willow branches in the wind.
I have collected eggs when they are still hot and wet and watched killdeer eggs hatch.
Nature or earthing has taken over a big part of my daily life and I am going to miss those fields, that magnificent sense of space I have thoroughly enjoyed these last five months.
Time spent with my mom doing nothing at all except being comfortable in each other's space.
The gift of time.
One year old
without a single tooth
sucking on an apricot.
He walked at ten months, so did his mom, but she had plenty of teeth at his age.
His favorite food, not the apricot he devoured, nor the seasonal Provencal fruit, oh yes, of course, he likes it- he likes everything except avocados. But his favorite food, the food he eats no matter what, the food he looks for and points towards, and cries for more as if it were candy??
Ready to guess? Scroll down for the answer.
Broccoli and sardines.
Yes, you are reading that correctly.
SuperBaby!
Fingers crossed the flight I have back home to France will take off July 5th.
I am a mixed bag of various feelings and thoughts as you can imagine starting and finishing not in order with Yann, my mom, my brother, my family, little boy boy... will the plane leave or be canceled a fourth time, covid 19...
Faith.
Shortly, after my mother and I started sheltering in place due to Covid 19 I started to post photos of flowers I had taken to my Facebook page. My goal was/is to post a photo of a flower a day in the hope to add a gentle soft spot in the midst of the sadness, confusion, followed by many other thoughts and feelings, my brother's illness, then the need for Black Lives Matter, and the Presidential Election... It seemed that whenever I opened my phone, news article, computer, TV, the news was is heavy and concerning and rarely a place of softness.
When I say softness I do not mean to take away from what is going on or to turn away from what might need to be done or heard. Not at all. I post(ed) flowers to give a moment of pause to see, feel, experience something comforting, of hope and goodness.
As of today, there are nearly a hundred photos of various flowers on my Facebook page, near 100 days of trying to simply add a gentle soft spot to focus on or to take a breath of air to carry on.
Here are a few of the photos I have posted:
From a bouquet in France.
I took this photo last summer in a shop in Cassis.
A photo from Cassis.
Flowers from home last summer.
This year's Easter bouquet.
At a friend's house in Provence.
I will post more of my daily flower photos here to my blog for the same reason I have been posting them to my Facebook.
Please keep my brother in your deepest prayers today as he is having tests to see if the tumors are shrinking with the chemo that he has endured.
Flowers, a soft gentle place to rest my heart, eyes, thoughts, prayers, hope, yearnings...
During the shelter in place, Sacha and I planted a garden or if truth be told a few vegetable plants. Zucchini, cucumber, tomato, green onion, green beans, and crooked neck squash. Nothing beats homegrown. I wish I could say we have an overabundance of vegetables but that is not the case with one plant each of the above vegetables. So far there have been seven green beans or as my mother said when I added them to a salad, "If you say so, but I did not see them nor taste them." I have planted a garden before but this time without the right tools or soil or fertilizer it was more like throwing seeds to the wind. A dare you to grow attitude. Hence a few vegetables.
There are sheep in the field behind my mother’s house. A friend needed some pasture land so my mom lent him ours for the pleasure of seeing sheep in the field. In the not so distant background behind the sheep the chartreuse green rice fields.
Reconnecting to my roots
one season into the next
farm to table
thankful
Foraged along the creek black walnuts for their perfumed skins, the first buds of grapes and fig leaves.
My mother and I have been gathering wild blackberries in the morning four cups make a pie.
Then there is the pomegranate tree (my mom has several but this one is the best) won't be ready until October.
Seeds planted some give a harvest within a month or two, and others most others take several months. Time and patience.
What seeds am I planting now? What harvest do I expect?
How does your interior garden grow?
Some of my father's and brothers' motorcycle trophies
It is funny how something comes out of nowhere, and it can remind us of someone, and they are right there beside us.
Dad, no matter how far away I am, I always have you in my heart pocket.
Memory: I am eight years old and riding in front of my Father on his motorcycle. We are rounding up the cows for milking. My Dad says that I am ready to ride on my own. I grab the throttle, I can feel him smiling. He says yes, you are ready and jumps off. I glance back and see him standing, still smiling, yelling, "Look where you're going!" I look ahead and see the field, the cows, the blue sky, and the freedom to explore.
The feeling has never left.
Happy Father's Day Dad
Yann
and Martin.
xxx
H A P P Y B I R T H D A Y
Sacha came to California at the beginning of Covid 19, nearly two months later he returned to Seattle. How fortunate I have been to have had my son to come and stay with my mom and me. How fortunate I have been to have had two unexpected months of his undivided attention.
Today is Sacha's birthday, my beautiful son!
When Sacha returned to Seattle he drove the back roads before he left I asked him to send me a letter of his journey for my blog:
"My car is ready, my belongings packed. My front seat is overflowing with homecooked meals my mom made for my trip. I make sure my grandma's famous chocolate chip cookies are in reach.
There I will sit
back at my home
thinking back to this time faraway
watching it
shift change remains strong yet fade
with melancholic overtones and tender thankfulness
not knowing never knowing
trusting
Chelsea sent some very happy birthday videos of family and friends enjoying the afternoon together at Gabriel's birthday party. As I cannot connect the videos I am adding the two photos I loved the most. His homemade birthday crown, his little scratched nose, toothless grin, and his new colorful scoot toy that his other grandparents gave him. Chelsea, Martin, and baby have been staying with Martin's parents during the covid 19, and plan to stay throughout summer. Hopefully, I will see them soon.
Gabriel is so happy!
Thank you for your birthday wishes yesterday I appreciated each of them.
Of course, I knew that a baby would change everything.
I thought I knew what everything meant.
I knew my heart would expand memories of my childhood and my daughter's childhood would all come back to me, combining past to present deepening the wonder of life, a continuation, a thanksgiving rich with memories of my grandparents, my parents our lives.
I knew that I would want to hold Gabriel endless hours from the first rays to the last flicker of light
and that I would be able to be better than I am because the path would be easier to follow with innocent love leading me. With Gabriel somehow somewhere a door opened a passage unfolded as if my feet become wings and light-filled every single cell in my body, heart, and soul.
A baby that tiny little wonderment, that magical mystical baby...
Life has expanded beyond my imagination what was past, and the present and those tomorrows that I will never ever know blended into something I never expected nor knew.
Let's just call it the Big Bang, a firework of indescribable love.
---------------------
I wrote the above shortly after Gabriel was born. I have not seen him since February yet the invisible thread of life that connects us, the mystery of our cells, the pulling of our heartstrings, creates a union of love that cannot be denied. I am grateful.
He is a charming, beautiful, sweet little boy and a million more wonderful adjectives.
Happy first birthday Gabriel!
Barely had light fill the room
my mother was purposefully clanking in the kitchen
"Corey you can come to knead the bread"
without unshuttering my eyes I asked was the yeast frothy?
"No, but we can make the beds and you can check if there are eggs in the coop while we wait."
Or I could roll over and sleep a few more minutes was my thought.
The difference between a get-up and go person and someone like me is five minutes or so.
I went for a walk while the sweetbread rose twice.
Chocolate chip cookies baked, sweetbread rolls made, five-miles walked, eggs collected,
garden watered, beds made, dishes done... by nine a.m.
Not even the brocante gets me doing all that by nine a.m.
After months of staying put Chelsea ventured out to a local park and met up with a very dear friend Clem. Clem was nine months pregnant when she was in Chelsea's wedding. Clem's little Boy Boy will very soon be two years old, and Gabriel will soon be one. They met in the park to play.
Clem sent this photo, isn't it precious.
Those two little babies have no idea what this experience has been, nor the impact it had on lives around them. Though maybe when they are very old they will have a story or two to pass on that they have gathered from memories shared.
Clem and Chelsea have known each other since the sixth grade now they are passing their stories on to their children who most likely will have a long history together.
When I left France at the beginning of February to come to visit my family in California I had a feeling it might be for a while... but I did not expect it to be four months and counting. I did not expect our world to shift, and a lockdown and a stirring of thoughts, habits, ideas, lifestyles to the core but it has. The silver linings are plentiful, the road less traveled a familiar path, the reality that no matter how good, kind, or and loving we are there is room for improvement.
My Instagram was filled with pretty stuff, a collection of old French things that created my work, business, and lifestyle for me... though given this time on hand for reflection and given that I am not at home in France but back at my childhood home in California with rural nature 360 degrees I do not want to miss what is around me. Also, I see this time as unique, a time where I can unveil more than pretty things, and hopefully, in sharing myself I can be a genuine part of the challenging beautiful path ahead towards a more loving peaceful untied world.
I do not know what will happen- do any of us? My brother continues to push forward with true grit and grace. Flights are returning to Europe and my days here are shortening, and now more than ever I want to be present to the current that moves amongst us.
There
in the vast sacred swirl of dust
millions of years before light streamed
darkness heralded
spark shattered shift
temerity
gave breath to us
rising
as one
Colorful threads
part of fabric
that covers us
warm and safe.
Patterns vary
bright, delicate, bold, intricate
endless
endless single threads
Flamingo
Punch
Watermelon
Blush
Sunflower
Hay
Lion Mane
Corn
Sapphire
Sky
Peacock
Slate
Tangerine
Yam
Marmalade
Spice
Needle
Thread
Fabric.
(Photos I took when I had the pleasure years ago meeting Corinne of Baucis et Philemon)
Have you ever waded with your thoughts? Vaguely remembering where they started and unsure where they will end? I know I have. The waters with their sirens and whipped seafoam are uncharted, rendering a certain uncertainty.
Why are we still here? Where are we going?
Is there another way? Will we reach the shore? What will calm the sea?
Driftwood, jellyfish, sharks, tangling seaweed, and an island of peace.
The current sands shift, moving unevenly, blistering hot underfoot yet the soul beckons beyond to blend a slow steady wave carrying us onward.
A rare truth is given when we look at mystery square in the eye and let it unravel as it will, trusting that grace once obtained won't be lost.
I saw this on Instagram.
A lot of things I do not do but maybe would like to are not based on fear. Most have to do with not having the talent, nor wanting to put my resource towards it. Fear is not often the reason I do not do something unless it is something like parachuting or bungee cord jumping.
And you?
After reading the rest of the Instagram post I saw that the author was directing the quote towards those who did not, or those of us who do not, respond when something is going very wrong. Such as the case of George Floyd. Why didn't I jump in and tell the police officer to step back? I am saying it this way because I wonder if I was there watching this horrific scene unfold if I would have done something to stop it or not? If I did not do something to stop it would my reasoning have been out of fear?
Would I have been capable of doing anything, other than standing by with my hand over my mouth?
If I had done something would I have been arrested too with a knee on my neck?
Would I have not wanted to get involved, and walked on by?
Would I have thought, it cannot be what it looks like - figuring it can't be bad as it seems?
Would my response be out of fear?
Would I have been afraid?
What can I do now and tomorrow to bring change, to shower in love, to give without counting the cost? To follow a path or to blaze a path before me that leads to helping others when I am afraid?
The first step is to take a step.
There are two homeless men who live under a bridge not far from my mother's home. I see them every now and then walking to and from the town which is about a mile or so away. I have thought to take them food, or water. But have not out of fear that if I do they might come to my mother's house when I am not here. I would not want to put her at risk. The police have visited them, but I do not know what happened. Are they dangerous? I do not believe they are. Homeless yes other than that I do not know their story. How shameful I feel admitting this.
Fear. It is a terrible thing to face. But I must.
(Thank you Dixie for posting this image on FB)
I pray to respond, to have courage, to be outraged.
In the words of Tony Robbins,
"Stop being afraid of what could go wrong, and start being excited about what could go right."
Maybe it is because nobody has come into our home since mid-March,
Maybe it is because it is very hot today,
Maybe it is because I tossed and turned most the night,
Maybe it is because I am missing the owl's nightly mantra,
Maybe it is because I run a small part of my walking path for the first time,
Maybe it is because I am wondering about the brocante.
Maybe it is because I pruned the tomato plants as Mr. Port taught me years ago,
Maybe it is because my Mom's windows need to be washed,
Maybe it is because I just finished reading Michelle Obama's Becoming,
Maybe it is because I know this sacred time with my mom will end,
Maybe it is because Yann has seen many of our friends and he isn't as careful as I would want him to be,
Maybe it is because I watched too many old movies and collected far too many old papers that have a romantic bent,
Maybe it is because I miss Cassis,
Maybe it is because my friends ask me what I think and I answer with what I feel,
Maybe it is because I wish the ocean was closer,
Maybe because Gabriel is growing bigger and is so adorable I want to squeeze him,
Maybe it is because I miss old beauties,
Maybe it is because my hair is nearly all-white,
Maybe it is because Sacha returned to Seattle a few days ago,
Maybe because my brother is doing as best as he can and Chemo is so awful to endure,
Maybe it is because I am wired this way, which is to say I am a marshmallow at heart
with a healthy pinch of lemon tart.
What is my mood today? Ho Hum just letting thoughts come and go and wondering what I can do to make the world, or maybe just around the corner, a safer, happier, peaceful place
What is your mood lately?
When Chelsea was three these are some of the questions she asked me,
Where is heaven? What does it mean to die? When I yawn why do my eyes water? How does water come to our house? How does our body make urine? What does God look like? Who was born first? Why can't we make grapes in the kitchen with a recipe? Why do we have two nostrils? Where do words come from? When fish die do their fins turn into wings?
Does God feel scared?
No, I don't believe God feels scared.
Does God feel happy?
Some questions just need to been asked, with each question the answer goes deeper and deeper. Like a child who says, "why?" after every answer.
My mother reminded me to answer my children's questions as honestly as I could. "That is how they learn, and after they have asked you a hundred times the same question, and they go to ask you yet again, simply ask, "Why," back to them. Then you will hear that they will have the answer."
If only my questions could have answers.
If only we could ask why over and over until the question no longer existed.
Until the truth rang.
Until doubts vanished.
Until we knew that everything was going to be... okay.
"O ye of little faith." Mathew 6
The heart doesn't question, it responds.
”The cover of Sunday’s New York Times. It lists the names of 1000 Americans, dead of Covid-19. One thousand is just one percent of the number of those officially counted as dead of coronavirus we will likely hit this Memorial Day weekend.
It is “AN INCALCULABLE LOSS,” the headline reads. “They Were Not Simply Names on a List, They Were Us.”
The editors introduce the list by saying: “Numbers alone cannot possibly measure the impact of the coronavirus on America, whether it is the number of patients treated, jobs interrupted or lives cut short. As the country nears a grim milestone of 100,000 deaths attributed to the virus, The New York Times scoured more than 1,000 obituaries and death notices honoring those who died. None were mere numbers.”
Each name comes with a characteristic of the person lost: “Stanley L. Morse, 88, Stark County, Ohio, trombonist who once turned down an offer to join Duke Ellington’s orchestra;” “Jose Diaz-Ayala, 38, Palm Beach, Fla., served with the Palm Beach County Sheriff’s Office for 14 years;” “Louvenia Henderson, 44, Tonawanda, N.Y., proud single mother of three;” “Ruth Skapinok, 85, Roseville, Calif., backyard birds were known to eat from her hand.” “Richard Passman, 94, Silver Spring, Md., rocket engineer in the early days“💔
"Every year on the date, the 3,000 victims of September 11th are read aloud at the World Trade Center. It takes 3 hours.
If we were to read the names of each person who has died of Covid-19 so far, it would take over 4 days, without stopping.
It would cover each Sunday issue for over the next two years.
Today I read 1% of those names. Each of those names was allowed half a sentence to describe them. Half a sentence for a lifetime on the front page of The New York Times.
I picked out some of my favorites:
-“We called him the grand Poobah”
-her backyard birds ate right from her hand
-could fix almost anything
-first black woman to graduate Harvard Law school
-quick with his fists in the ring
-her will was indomitable
-he could spit a watermelon seed halfway across a double lot
-agent who turned on the CIA
-her favorite quote was ‘I am as good as you are, and as bad as I am’
-cancer survivor who lived as a deacon
-nothing delighted him more than picking up the bill
-saved 56 Jewish families from the Gestapo
-could be a real jokester
-thought it was important to know a person’s life story
-maestro of a steel-pan band
-saw friends at their worst and made them their best
-engineer behind the first 200mph stock car
-discovered his true calling when he started driving a school bus
-made the best Baklava ever
-emergency room doctor who died in his husband’s arms
-leader in integrating schools
-architect behind Boston’s City Hall
-shared his produce with food banks and neighbors
-family believed she would have lived the traditional Navajo lifespan of 102 years.
-loved his wife and said ‘yes dear’ a lot
-mother to a generation of AIDS patients
-worked long hard hours and still made time for everyone
-walked across the Golden Gate Bridge on opening day
-liked his bacon and hash browns crispy
-more adept than many knew
-would stay awake the whole night shift because she didn’t want anyone to die alone
-freed from life in prison
-her last words were ‘thank you’
Seven small towns I thought no one else had heard of.
Six women who reminded me of my mother.
Five people my age.
Four holocaust survivors.
Three 9/11 responders.
Two couples who died together.
One person I’ve met.
And a 5 year old girl.
They didn't get a funeral.
They didn't get to say goodbye.
I've been in my apartment for 71 days. I've cried four times.
Three of those times, was while I read this.
Have fun at your barbecue." - Jacqueline Kamel“
Every day I go for a walk around the rice fields behind my mother's home. I can walk along the dirt roads that the farmers use to check their crops for miles and miles endlessly around rice fields that are taking root. The pleasure of seeing nature take its course and farmers working steadily with the season. The blackberry vines are growing wildly as they should, and I have spotted and noted the ones I can reach to gather for my mother's blackberry pies.
Sacha pointed out the red wing crow's nest that was brilliantly nestled in the reeds alongside the canal.
As it was surrounded by water it was hard to take a photo and or to see if there were eggs inside.
But Sacha managed to lean in and see that there were three eggs.
From that day last Saturday, I walked the three miles to their nest to see if they had hatched and how they were fairing.
Three little birdies hatched Sunday.
What a pleasure to see them grow each day. They endured some might winds, rain, and unusually cold weather for this time of year.
Yesterday they had little feathers.
They became my symbol of new life, for a new tomorrow.
They made my steps going towards them giddy as I wanted to see their growth.
The disappointment of finding this misfortune today. I had hoped to see them fill out, feather fluff and fly away.
Nature has its ways. Life does too.
Understandable or not.
Unfair and beautiful,
full of richness and misfortune
it carries on and so do we.
Bye bye Blackbird.
