The Ghost of Christmas Past

Apr 17, 2012 by

The Ghost of Christmas Past

I just had the most painful memory.  I was reading Firefly Lane and a passage referenced some dolls called “Liddle Kiddles.”  I began thinking of the many barbies and dolls I had as a little girl and my thoughts came to rest on the Sunshine Family.  And then my tears started to flow. It was Christmas time and I must have been around seven years old.  There was only one thing that I wanted for Christmas that year and that was the Sunshine Family dolls.  They were the fun, hippy, anti-Barbies that radiated all things flower child, nature, and love.  They were also everywhere in the commercials, and my friends and I strategized over how to optimize our chances of getting the dolls.  I did my part in working on my parents through good...

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Firsts

Feb 4, 2012 by

Firsts

While we were sunning and funning in Cancun, my sweet mother-in-love was mourning the loss of her furry companion of ten years, Amos.  Amos was an 8-poundish yorkie terrier who sort of weaseled his way into all of our lives.  Barbara bought Amos home and the first night we met him as a family he sized us up as much as we did him.  Only around 4 pounds then, he rebuffed every overture we made toward him by barking as loud as his quarter-sized lungs could manage and sticking as close to underneath to Barbara as he could.  Over the years and through many antics though, Amos was as much a part of our family as anyone else walking on two legs and sharing the same DNA. I often teased Marc by calling Amos...

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A Birthday Wish

Feb 3, 2012 by

A Birthday Wish

I’ve had the pleasure of spending the past several days beneath the sunny skies of Cancun. I’ve enjoyed the beach and the breeze with three of my favorite people, my husband, obviously, included. He and I have woken early each morning, to catch the first breezes of the day and walk the shore. We call those moments, whether on vacation or back at home in Seattle, our “walk / talks”. I like . . . no, I LOVE our walk/talks.  As our thoughts turn from those we love to situations that concern or challenge us to our dreams and hopes for our futures, our time – step by step – becomes a moving meditation, prayer in motion. Yesterday, my birthday eve, Marc and I walked Cancun’s shoreline, enjoying the expansive and picturesque view. We...

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Permanent Ink

Jan 2, 2012 by

Permanent Ink

My earliest memory of Marc Walters happened somewhere around the 3rd grade. He and I sat next to one another in Mrs. Coleman’s class where, on this particular day, she gave a lesson in cursive writing. Standing over our shoulders, she critiqued our efforts. After looking at the either too big or too little loops that shaped my p’s, b’s, or q’s, she pointed to Marc’s paper as an example of how alphabets could look, of how alphabets could be. Taking a long, slow look at the paper next to mine, I recall laying aside my elementary pride and, reluctantly, agreeing with her. Though I can’t remember what the words were on the page, I remember that they were written incredibly well, with a care and embellishment beyond our 7 or 8 years.  I...

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