wandering mind

We are a family of engineers. I am an engineer, and so is my dad. I married an engineer. His dad happened to be one as well. So imagine our surprise when our daughter decided to be a theater major. Especially since she is really good at math and science. How I made my peace with that is a topic for another discussion. So we were sitting in a family gathering and discussing how my daughter got almost 100% in calculus.  A relative who knew my father in law really well noted that it must come from my daughter’s grandfather. I almost wanted to raise my hand like a little kid and say, “but, but, I also almost always got 100% in Math…” but I didn’t want to take the conversation there. I have tremendous respect for my father in law. He might be one of the most brilliant person I know. Then my daughter chimes in “I think I get it from my mom” My heart filled with something warm and fuzzy

One day you finally knew what you had to do, and began, though the voices around you kept shouting their bad advice — though the whole house began to tremble and you felt the old tug at your ankles. “Mend my life!” each voice cried. But you didn’t stop. You knew what you had to do, though the wind pried with its stiff fingers at the very foundations, though their melancholy was terrible. It was already late enough, and a wild night, and the road full of fallen branches and stones. But little by little, as you left their voice behind, the stars began to burn through the sheets of clouds, and there was a new voice which you slowly recognized as your own, that kept you company as you strode deeper and deeper into the world, determined to do the only thing you could do — determined to save the only life that you could save. Mary Oliver

When you have hurt someone, even if it was completely unintentional. Even when you didn't realize that you have done it. It does not alter the fact that it happened. Do not justify. Just apologize. And let the healing begin. I am so sorry. Please forgive me. As simple as that.   

Home alone this evening. Drinking a glass of wine. Burnt the rice that I was making. Maybe I don't need dinner. No one else to feed. I can hear the traffic on I-95 Someone just locked their car outside. Two short beeps. I hear Buddy's heavy breathing as he lays content near my feet after a walk and dinner. He needs so little to be happy. A preview of times to comes when all evenings will be like this. Silence is really loud. I better turn on the TV to drown out this deafening silence.

I took my time this year and didn't make the rushed January 1st resolutions. I have decided 2017 to be the year of slowing down. The year of saying no to things that I do on auto pilot. The year of not rushing to say yes to any exciting things that comes my way. The year of introspection. The year of reading less stuff on the internet and spending more time knitting, drawing, painting, sketching, gardening, writing, reading. The year of decluttering my environment and my mind. The year of deep breaths in, deep breaths out. The year of reconnecting with yoga. The year of meditation.

The bright green grass of not too distant summer is littered with the brown of the fall to come. The crunch of the leaves on the sidewalk releases memories of the years gone by. And suddenly I have this craving for a long afternoon walk with you. But you are no longer here. I miss you. Of all the days, today, I miss you. Wish you were here. Wish we were walking and talking of baking butternut squash with honey glaze and of roasted vegetables with balsamic vinegar. Of the good value red wine we recently discovered. Little things that were taken for granted, as if they will last forever. But they didn't.

I haven't been here back in ages. It is a weird kind of feeling coming back. I sort of had put this life on hold, but the rest of this universe kept humming along. So much has happened since I last wrote here. One of my daughters started college last year. One night her and her roommate sat and read most of my old blogposts. She asked why I stopped writing and told me how much they enjoyed it. Why did I stop writing? I got too caught up in driving kids to all the afterschool activities while commuting two plus hours to work everyday. Then there was dinner and laundry. It was so much easier to hit the like button on facebook posts. Things are slowing down again. Nest is half empty - to be completely empty next year. And I miss the deep conversations on the blogspot platform. Would I be able to connect again?