A Brand New, Smoky Monday

When we awoke this morning, the land was blanketed in a soft and very stinky smoke. At first glance, it appeared that there was fog hovering over the lake; we rarely see that sort of thing here but since I'm from New England, where fog is a fairly common sight, my first thought was that was what it was. As soon as I stepped outside, I realized that the "fog" was actually smoke, and a quick internet search revealed that fires were burning in the Everglades. The smoke was so bad in some areas that sections of highway had been temporarily shut down. A few unfortunate travelers were stuck waiting for the haze to clear so they could be on their way; they couldn't see in front of their vehicles to drive for the white smoke.  By this afternoon, the air had cleared considerably, but my throat is sore (in spite of my having spent very little time outside today) and the headache lingers.  So far, Sparkle Fairy hasn't complained, and hopefully she doesn't have any ill effects from the polluted air we experienced today.  This happens occasionally, when nature turns up the heat or the sugar cane fields are set alight, though the cane burning creates a blacker smoke.

Our weekend was interesting, a combination of Pagan and Christian activities.  On Saturday, we had Sparkle Fairy's kids' group, where I found out she is a dragon in this year's ending ceremony for her class. We love dragons around here!!!!  It was nice to be among like minded souls, but I'm a little sad that the class seems to be dwindling.  Some of the families who used to participate have moved away, while others are busy with unrelated activities.  The teens are all off doing teenager things and don't want to get up early on Saturday to go to the UU Church.  This year's Beltane turnout at the UU was meager, with fewer vendors and many of the familiar faces missing. Sparkle Fairy and I were among the only parents and kids who showed up to represent the Pee Wees group.  I don't know what's going on.  On Sunday, we had an open house for our neighbors' church school.  It actually wasn't too bad.  I don't have anything against what they believe in, I'm just not so into the absolutism.  Also, every time I wander away from my magickal lifestyle I miss it terribly.  As well, it's hard for me to see the Bible as the one and only book that gives us the word of God.  I mean, it was written by human beings, very fallible human beings, in a different time from the one we live in now.  There are some wonderful and not so wonderful ideas within those pages, and I'm not saying there isn't any divinity present within them, but I'm not so sure about the "one truth" bit.  I will confess to being in possession of a huge fondness for my Jewish roots and heritage, but get me in a group of rowdy Pagans and I feel right at home.  Maybe it's the free spirit in me; it's just  hard for me to be too confined, even if I do love the concept of grace and try to practice it in my daily life whenever I can.  I'm a work in progress as far as that's concerned.  I also feel deeply connected to nature, and feel it quite easy to communicate on some level with the wildlife in our yard (sparse as it might be), and my spirituality is intertwined with the natural order of things. 

Well, my eyelids are getting heavy, and tomorrow will be an early day.  Off to walk the doggie man and turn in for the night. 

 

Fa La La La Yule

The atmosphere in our house has finally become more festive. This took a bit of an effort on the part of Sparkle Fairy and me, as the Hub has been depressed over struggles with work.  I don't know why, but it is very difficult to find anyone here in South Florida who wants to work. I know such people exist, but when it comes to our business we have experienced very little luck in wooing them over to our doorstep.  I believe part of the issue to be the transient nature of this place. Lots of people arrive in South Florida with big dreams and little motivation, or dreams of lying on a sandy beach somewhere while the money they need to live magically rolls toward then on the waves.  That said, I personally know quite a few people in South Florida who are highly motivated and in possession of a fantastic work ethic, so I know they exist.  Maybe there are just fewer of them in the world of construction. But I digress.

This weekend, we sparkled up the Yule tree and the Hub strung more lights in the trees in our front yard.  He put up a few lights last week but I was secretly a bit disappointed that he didn't put out more.  Usually he gets excited and a little crazy and I'll walk outside to find him up on the roof trying to balance an inflatable Rudolph with a blow up Santa, a mad scientist expression on his face. This year's attitude is more subdued, but we've managed to tease some spirit out of him, and I'm glad for that.  

The heat has not subsided much to date.  While our nights are cooler and some days the temperatures are a wee bit lower, the 80+ degree weather seems reluctant to leave us.  My northern family and friends scoff at me when I complain, but I'm a northern girl at heart, and I've been down here for enough years to have cultivated a deep longing for changing seasons once again.  Of course, left for a week in weather that ventures into the 20's, I might start whining.  One is never sure, as we humans are prone to the romanticism of times and places past.  

This weekend at the ArtsPark there was a Christmas festival.  Our little family ventured over, albeit late, and listened to a very dynamic gospel band while watching people stroll past, some decked in Santa hats, others sporting face paintings from a booth that was offering them as well as balloon figures.  The music was a bit too much for me,  but if you were the sort to enjoy lots of "washed in the blood" types of lyricism, you'd probably enjoy it. For me, the trees in the park were the high point of the evening. The park at Young's Circle is home to some of the most amazing trees  I have seen in a long while.  I wonder how I'd forgotten about this; I complain about this area's lack of extensive forests while right down the street is a beautiful park containing trees that are truly magical.  Live oaks stretch their graceful arms in all sort of twisting directions, while Jacarandas grow thick and tall. At least, I think they're Jacaranda trees.  I need to do some research regarding that.  Walking between these trees on Saturday night, I could easily imagine picnicking beneath them with Sparkle Fairy, or reading a book stretched out on a blanket in the sheltering shade of their branches.  We truly do need to open our eyes and our hearts to witness the wonder around us.   

And a new weeks begins! 

A Hard Good-Bye Long Past

It's been almost a full year since the passing of my friend. The initial shock of her leaving has worn off, but the sadness and the missing of her has retained it's vigor.  This morning I was reviewing a gratitude list that I've been keeping for some time now. Nestled between the other entries was one that read, "Cooking in our kitchen with Lisa". I wrote that quite a long time ago- a couple of years ago, most likely- but I clearly recall that day. After the meal, we stood by the sink, me washing and her drying what couldn't be cleaned by the dishwasher.  She laughed as I told her I'd never been joined in the kitchen before. For her, growing up in an Italian family with siblings and other relatives present, partnering in the kitchen was commonplace. I enjoyed that day immensely.  I still think of it sometimes as I stand at the sink alone.  While I cook in the kitchen with my daughter often, it's rare for me to have another adult by my side. And because the kitchen is somewhat of a sacred space for me, that day with Lisa was doubly special. 

When I first had my daughter, Lisa was one of the few people I trusted to help me care for her. She helped me to find my voice at a time when I was still a bit shy and timid. Once, when we were at the beach, a grimy man who was stumbling about the broadwalk reached out to touch my then baby.  Lisa, admonished him immediately, telling him in her raspy voice, "Don't touch the baby with your dirty hands!"  I was grateful that she'd spoken up when my own voice felt so uncertain.  I have since grown and changed a great deal; I can hardly recognize the mouse I once was. But Lisa helped me to get to where I am now.   

For a new Mom, everything in life revolves around our new little one.  We accept this, usually without much thought, but appreciate it was someone thinks to do a little something for us too.  In my early days at home with wee Sparkle Fairy, Lisa would sometimes come by with a little something for us both. She might bring a toy or a trinket for the baby, and would give me a candle or some lotions. It didn't matter what the gift was; it just felt good to be considered, to receive that love.  

When Sparkle Fairy grew a little bigger, Lisa would sometimes babysit for her. Our daughter adored Lisa, and until recently would shy away from the mention of her name. It was difficult for her to acknowledge Lisa's death; she was a part of our girl's life from the beginning.  We have a ritual with potato chips- Lisa used to tell Rachel that the folded over chips were the best (aren't they though?!). They'd sit at our kitchen table, and when either pulled a folded chip from the bag, they'd hold it high in the air before chomping it down.  To this day, those potato chips are Auntie Lisa chips.  

The last time Lisa and I communicated, I told her I loved her and would see her when I got back to Florida. I could feel in my solar plexus that she was in some sort of trouble but she never told me what was going on.  I had no idea how sick she'd been, or that she'd almost died already over the previous months. I don't blame anyone but myself, really.  I'd distanced myself from her a little bit because I'd had some confusing experiences with her during which her addiction was fully in charge.  While I was familiar with the dynamics of addiction and could handle some of those painful moments, my daughter could not. I didn't want her to see Auntie Lisa at her worst. She was so beautiful at her best. I wanted my girl to know her for that. For the past year, I've regretted that I didn't find a better balance with this situation. While I don't have any false notions that my presence would have changed the course of her life (if she could have gotten well for anyone it would have been her daughter, but addiction doesn't care how much we love our family, or our friends), I do wish she'd been aware of my support for her. In my heart, I never gave up on her. To the last day, I held a shred of hope that she would be able to make the changes she needed to make in order to live.  It was not to be.

I miss her.