Little Life Moments.

I tried to save a bug tonight. Actually, I tried to get it out of my car. It sat beside the windowsill of the passenger seat. I lowered the glass with the press of a button. Once it was down, I flicked the bug but it fell further down the side door. I flicked it again and tore its body apart. The bug died at my attempts to set it free.

When I sat down to write, this was the first thing I could think of. And I can’t tell you why, but moments like this stick out in my mind. Little life moments that last only seconds or minutes. They come and go swiftly like the wind.

Speaking of wind, another moment that struck me today was the way the dry leaves tumbled across the grass. They remained low to the ground like wheels rolling on the pavement. The leaves rolled on the earth with force from the wind. And they traveled like a herd of fallen stars.

Does this mean anything? What’s the significance?

I don’t know. It’s just what I remembered. And I felt like writing it down.

Painting with Punctuation.

I am a creature who thrives on creation. I need to change my setting, create new art and grow things. I have a craving for white walls, green plants, semi-colons and music: a few things I realized I needed in order to grow and feel alive.

The walls in my living room are an extremely light blue-gray. But they are not light enough. I want blinding-bright-light. The whitest-white that screams – clean! The perfect backdrop for a vibrant green. Green plants which provide clean air and bloom with life. I want my home to feel awake and alive. But clean. I need cleanliness and order. Life can be so messy, especially with three children. However, more plants means more dirt. I want more cleanliness and more dirt? What a contradiction!

It was just last night, I vacuumed a pile of dirt in the hallway. I carried the succulent in my hands and I bumped into Mia, or she bumped into me, either way – the plant toppled over and dropped to the floor.


Recently, I took the children to the nursery and bought succulents (four small and one medium sized), an Aloe plant (which I guess is a succulent too), and a plant with blue flowers that supposedly attracts butterflies. We welcomed these plants into our home along with the herbs growing in mason jars on windowsills. There are a few spots in our home blessed with direct sunlight: the windowsills in the living room and the small balcony hidden behind lengthy blinds and a rusty colored couch. Yesterday, I put our plants with flowers on the balcony – which is more like a ledge – to bask in the sun. I think about putting more plants on the ledge, but worry the squirrels will knock them over. The squirrels are everywhere: along the walls, on the patios and in the trees. They have us surrounded. There are limits to what I can achieve with plants. Maybe what I’m really after is a blank canvas and something to paint with.
I guess I could paint with punctuation, instead of plants. And the squirrels wouldn’t eat my words. My words struggle to capture another tail: the elusive semi-colon. The act of dotting a comma is foreign to me. It seems sinful, yet sophisticated. Semi-colons have an arrogance about them. They’ve taunted me with their knowledge; the many things I do not know or have forgotten; I’ve been afraid to misuse them; I don’t want to abuse them. And I don’t want to appear as though I know what I’m doing; I don’t. But, I long for the confidence and the day I’ll use all of the available tools to get there.

Music is another tool I need to create but often forget about. I’ve been thinking up a plan to get music streaming through every room of our two-bedroom condo. But I have yet to follow through.

Last Sunday morning, I longed for a peaceful beginning: music, coffee and quiet children. I walked over to the Block Rocker, a large speaker near the fireplace, and sat on top of a stack of boxes beside it. The box I sat on, a black round hat box with a white floral pattern, was full of cords used to connect, energize and amplify sounds and images. Abe stood nearby, at the coffee table, very close to the speaker. I switched the block on and connected my phone via bluetooth. I pushed play and “Love Me Do” burst through with voracious volume. Abe jumped in fright and screamed with fear. His little arms reached out for me. I turned the volume down, grabbed Abe and put him in my lap. Our weight broke through the hat box. I laughed, stood up and held Abe in my arms. The music played at a comforting volume as I soothed Abe with a waltz around the living room. I heard a violin playing in the background. The instrument came to life as Alana wove the bow along the strings in her bedroom.

Two rooms filled with music. It was not a peaceful beginning, or day for that matter, but music played and my craving settled for just a moment. I’m working to satisfy the rest. The walls are not white – not yet – but they will be. But I hear music playing, I see greens growing and I am painting with punctuation.

I’ll Never Know.

As I strolled around the park with Abe,  the sun shone through the clouds, and The Sounds of Silence streamed through my phone. I paused to capture a patch of dandelions. Never had I seen so many wishes waiting to be fulfilled. 

I passed groups of benches in search of one for me. I sat down and wrote as my sweet babe snoozed.

Birds chirped, “Tweet, tweet.” And men played tennis nearby, “whaack, bounce, whaack.”

A breeze shook the trees and freed leaves barely holding on. My nose gently ran. I sniffed and looked up as a fly zipped by. The grassy hills were rich with green. A bolder color than I could remember. 

I documented things to practice bringing life to the page. If only I could write it all down. There was too much to describe and many details I’d never know.