COVID sucks

 

Made it two years. Never diagnosed. Exposed to it. Surrounded by it. Took care of people with it. Never got it. Vaccinated. Boosted. Tested.

Till now.

Yes. I was bragging that I had never gotten Covid.
Yes. I was bragging that I never get sick. 

The next day? I got sick. 

One year on November 30, I spent some time with my beautiful newborn niece. She was about 8 weeks old and very uncomfortable. Colic. Like, bad, bad colic. We brought food and had dinner, taking turns holding the baby girl. The only time she stopped crying over the 2-3 hours was when she laid on my very pregnant belly. Draped over me on the couch, we joked that she and the baby inside me were silently communicating to one another. I did not move for 45 minutes because everyone was quiet. Finally. I was due on December 31. I walked out of their house that night, looked at Kelley and said, "Thank god we have another month because I am so not ready for this parenting thing."

My water broke at 6:30 a.m. the next morning. 

Yes, I am at a crossroads in my life. Yes, growing pains abound. That said, isn't it when you are in these moments that things can become more clear? We all have these moments. At several times in our lives. Some are pronounced and some slide under the radar. Some demand to be acknowledged and some are pushed away - denial isn't just a river in Eygpt (iykyk).

It has been raining for what feels like weeks. It is gray. It is gloomy. 

Covid is making me pause. Covid is making me reflect. Covid is making me sleep, and sleep A LOT. So much of social media is about showing how happy and good everything is. All the freaking time. You know what? Life is not great all of the time and that is A-OK! 

What happens when it stops raining? What happens after sleeping for hours on end? What happens when you stop after going through the motions of life for a bit? 

I wake UP! 

The edges become a little more vivid. The dreams become a little more real. The goals become a little more structured. The emptiness inside slowly gets refilled. The cycle continues.

Life is just a give and take. It is a paradox. Life just is. And it is amazing just to celebrate that fact. Relish in all of its moments. Happy, sad, growing, quiet, loud, laughing, simple and complex. Moments.

Time to put on More Than Life by Whitley and let's get cooking. 

Tacos. Yes, tacos. I love that the video makes it seem like it takes 3 minutes to make but it is worth every minute longer than 3 minutes. Have made with ground beef and chicken. Liked chicken better but honestly, the tortillas made this meal. Yes, it is an Instagram video. 

thefoodie.101

Yes, it was delicious. Enjoy! 

Pulled Chicken Taco Recipe

Choose kindness. Every gesture counts. Peace and love always. 

Amy

A week later.

A week later. 

So much has changed yet so much is also the same. 

And yes, it is Sunday. Sunday. 

1000 miles traveled. A huge piece of me left behind. An empty feeling persists. Upon my return, a quieter house than even expected. Tears spontaneously form randomly. But. But. Underneath, a feeling. A feeling that this is right. This is the way it is supposed to go. A feeling that this is just a beginning for Sage, oh the places she will go and I can't wait to witness what is to come and how she will attack this next chapter of her life. Feeling confidence in her being. 

Letting go is hard. It hurts in a way that I can't even put into words. 

Once again, I look to other languages to find the essence of what I am feeling. 

This is a beginning for me too. I know it is but that is just going to take a little more time. I'll get there, I will. 

Time. 

I am strong. I am really okay. This is just a piece of me. A piece of what I carry. I use all of my experiences to make me a better person, a more complete person, a more feeling person. So I put myself out there. I am honest. And I remember that I am made of many parts. 

Time. 

There is a bus stop near my house and a woman has been living in it for the past several months. I check on her and have come to make it part of my routine to do so. I have mentioned her before. This past week I was driving to work and as usual, drove by this bus stop. Something looked different and then I realized immediately. I put on the breaks and pulled over. It was gone. The bus stop. The woman. Missing. Nothing left. No traces. As if it and she were never there in the first place. My heart missed a beat. My mind started darting rapidly. A shaky feeling overcame me and a lump in my throat formed. Where was the structure? Where was the woman living there? Did they remove the bus stop because someone was living there? She was displaced, made more invisible than before, if that was even possible. Is she okay?  

Each one of us has our own unique experience, our own journey, our own challenges, our own history. There is no one right path and there are many, many bumps along the way. In the end it is not judgment, criticism, blame, or comparing that gets us through. It is pure love, kindness and compassion, with a dose of laughter. We are all human and you'd be surprised at how far a little love, a little kindness, a little compassion will take you. For yourself and for others, at all ages. And if you need to hate something, hate the hate in the world. Peace. 

Time to listen to I Come Apart by A$AP Rocky (featuring Florence Welch) and go do something strictly for you. Read a book. Go for a walk. Cook your favorite meal. Have cocktails with friends. Sit outside and listen to the noises around you. Listen to your favorite playlist. 

Me? 

Choose kindness. Every gesture counts. Peace and love always.

-Amy

Deep struggles on Sunday.

 

-Gayle Oshrin

Several months ago, I wrote about Sundays. People describe Sunday as Sunday FUN-day. For me, it isn't quite that. At all. It is not a great day for me typically. That sounds negative and I don't mean for it to sound that way. I am just being honest and open about the struggles that plague me more typically on Sundays than on other days. It is an end. It is a day I feel the anticipatory anxiety of what is to come. I feel restless and less grounded. I am not comfortable and I don't feel settled. I feel behind. I feel a sense of loss more on Sunday than on any other day. As the day wears on, I become more and more quiet, withdrawn. Simply put, it is not a fun day for me. Or probably for those around me!

When I was growing up, Sunday dinner was always a highlight. When we would visit family in New Jersey (a frequent occasion) we would often stay for Sunday dinner at my grandparents' house. Looking back, that was always a special night. An evening we were together as family. Sharing a meal, some laughs, with sports in the background on tv, crowded into one room piled on top of one another. It was always the same meal. Tradition and constant. I didn't appreciate that time as much as I do now, but even then I knew it was special. What I wouldn't do for just one more of those Sunday meals. 

Today I am sad. 

I am just very sad. 

This is the last Sunday with Sage home. She has spent the weekend saying goodbye to her friends. Not one to cry often, when tears form in her eyes, it crushes my heart into pieces. She has been very quietly and diligently packing for her next adventure. We leave on Thursday night for Ohio. Ohio State University is about to be changed forever. Sorry, I am still learning. The Ohio State University is about to be changed forever.  I am very excited to watch what she is able to do in this world. Oh the places she will go. She is ready to soar and spread her strong wings.

While this is just the beginning for her, it is an end for me. I know, I know. It is a beginning for me too. But, is it? So much of my life has been lived. Lived well. Lived beautifully. In the complex and messy way that life is meant to be. But nevertheless, lived. So, my baby leaving the nest is a loss. A loss of youth. A loss of identity. A loss of knowing. A loss of being. A loss of what was to be. A loss of what never was. A loss of what was, too. 

I seek connection. I always have. I have done many things in the name of connection, with the knowledge that I will at times be rejected. That is difficult to admit, especially publicly. Out loud. With this part of my life ending for now, my life becomes less tethered, less connected. 

So what do I do with all of this?  

I let myself feel these things. I do not push them away. I acknowledge that by allowing myself these emotions, it adds to my healing. It adds to my strength. It adds to my life experience. The key I think is to recognize them for what they are. Emotions. Feelings. They are but a part of me, not the whole me. At my spine, my backbone, is me. Finding space, finding room. When the absence grows and the emptiness begins to creep in, I seek space. I seek a new understanding. I seek new possibilities. I seek a deeper meaning. A deeper connection within. And I smile. I laugh. 

I remember that this life is a gift. It is fleeting and can change in a single moment. I need to appreciate the here, the now, the moment, the present. I push away the self-loathing that sometimes finds me and I look at the beauty in the world. Celebrate the differences and appreciate the similarities we all share. 

I stay open. I wear my heart on my sleeve so that no one ever feels alone. So that people know it is okay to be vulnerable and strong at the same time. To know that we are all human, we all feel, and we are all in this together even if our individual journeys take us down different paths. And, we never stop growing. Even at the end, there is always a new beginning. Always.

Time to put on Clarity by Vance Joy and let's keep living!

Choose kindness. Every gesture counts. Peace and love always. 

The art of racing in the rain

 

This is the face that stared at me all morning. 

Literally, all morning. 

I would feel this presence. The warmth of something looking at me. I'd turn my head in his direction and Chappy would be staring. Just staring. I finally had to move a chair over to the island so he could sit next to me while I worked. He even made a guest appearance on a Teams call. 

I was confused. 

Why was Chappy being so needy? What was going on with him? I was working. I was going about my day, but he kept pawing me. Kept staring. 

So, I thought about it and then finally put aside the slight annoyance of it all. I started to appreciate it. Chappy needed connection. He needed eye contact. He needed touch, to feel close. 

Chappy is very good at reminding me to live in the moment. He doesn't care about obligations, the phone or social media. All he wants is love. All he wants is kindness. All he wants is connection. All he wants is a simple moment. 

A simple moment. 

I started this blog originally as a vehicle to share recipes that I had been making but it felt odd just writing a recipe down. I felt like I needed to share a little bit of perspective as well. You see, I strive to have at least one moment every day where I am fully present. Fully in the moment. It can last 5 seconds or 5 minutes. Hence the title of my blog. Simple Moments Each Day. 

I will be brutally honest. Experiencing a simple moment is very hard for me to accomplish most days. I find that my mind races and it is difficult to settle myself enough to fully recognize or appreciate that simple moment when it occurs. To experience a connection with myself and also a real connection with those around me. To feel really safe and close to someone and to myself. To feel grounded. To feel my mind empty when I look at someone deep in their eyes or at myself in the mirror. To fully be in that moment. To really appreciate that singular moment. To just be. 

Chappy reminded today that it is okay to have that moment. He stared at me until I paused. So that I would take that moment. To just be. To be, well, to be me. 

Time to put on Underwater by Rufus Du Sol and let's get cooking. Let's do something a little different this time. Make a favorite recipe. One that is beautiful and filled with lots of colors. One that inspires you to create. One that reminds you that food is art. Light the candle. Fill the wine glass. Listen to your favorite songs. Take a moment to appreciate the blank palette, your work space. And then take your time. Enjoy the moment to cook. Your favorite recipe. For yourself. 

Remember that we are all growing. Always. It may not always be fun or comfortable but it is always good. Always.

Choose kindness. Every gesture counts. Peace and love always.

Wdym words aren't just words?

 

Looking out my window. Seeing the distance. Finding the light beyond the hard surface of the wing amongst the darkness. Focusing on hope.

My friend and I have been having a meaningful conversation in writing (we live continents apart) about language. Words that capture the essence of something. There is no word for it specifically in the English language but it exists in other languages. I love this concept. A word that describes an essence, a feeling. For me it is a reminder that English is just one language of so many and it inspires me. It signifies hope. The world is vast and the universe beyond even more so. There is so much to learn from our surroundings and each other. Often it is important to look beyond yourself and your own world to understand life, context, and perspective itself.  It also  is important  to remember that while life comes at you or you react to your life, you also project life. You are active in your life. I forget this sometimes especially when I get so caught up in the routine of thought and being. The necessary pause, breath, space to understand the moment. 

Komorebi is the image of sunlight streaming through the branches of trees. Now that you have seen this you might recognize it more often like I have now that I know this word. Of course it is the easiest to capture in a photograph. 

When I look at photographs, see a piece of art, watch a film or encounter something on a walk, it can instill an emotion.  I love that in other languages there may be an actual word for what I may be feeling. Take a look at some other words that have resonated with me.  I saw these recently in a book that same beautiful friend recommended to me. 

So sometimes there isn't a word for how I may be feeling in life, but sometimes there is. I just have to look beyond myself to find it. 

Time to put on Dark Red by Steve Lacy and let's get cooking. 

I have been missing Martha's Vineyard something fierce lately. It is a special place for me and each time I go, I find out a little bit more about myself. Maybe I am missing the search. Maybe I am missing a moment in time. 

In honor of the Vineyard, I am making Beach Salad. I had it for lunch today and I include a link here for you. Enjoy!

Please click here for Beach Salad.

Choose kindness. Every gesture counts. Peace and love always. 

Grounded

 

Summer. Summer flies by. Lightening fast. In an instant, days pass by, then weeks. Months too. 

For me, it flies so quickly it is hard to hold on. To stay present. In the moment. Sometimes I don't even recognize the simple moment when it is in front of me. And sometimes I do and when that happens, it becomes a gift that stays with me. 

I don't want to go along for the ride. I want to stop and appreciate the journey. 

I remember taking Sosie for a walk when she was 2 and I was so focused on getting to the playground so she could play. I planned out how long it would take to get there, how long we could spend there to play and then the walk home. The walk was the means to the end. 

Within a block, I realized something. Sosie wasn't thinking about the end. She was enjoying the walk there. Observing everything around her. The leaves, the stones, the sky, the birds, the chipmunks, the thoughts that popped in her mind, hand in hand. That was just as much of an adventure as the playground. I remember adjusting in my mind and actively slowing down. Grounding. 

Lately, I have had a word in my mind. It has been coming into focus, off and on, during odd times. Intention. Intention. Instead of flying, I am striving to move and live with intention. To ground myself in a way that forces me to be in the moment. Breathe.

For me, it is getting back to basics. Going to a farm to pick flowers. Going to a farmer's market and buying locally grown, in season fruits and vegetables. This is the season when you can taste a difference between a cucumber bought from a farm and one bought at the grocery store. The difference between a freshly picked tomato off the vine and sweet corn on the cob, just cooked enough. The smell of herbs that you cut that only enhance the flavors of the food picked from the earth. Find that market. Find the space. Find the beauty around you. In that moment. Grounding. Intentional. 

Book to Read: Lessons in Chemistry, Bonnie Garmus

Song to Listen to: Next to Me, Rufus du Sol

LET'S COOK!!!  There is a website and Instagram page called, Cook the Vineyard, which is a section in the Martha's Vineyard Magazine. I saw their post and it inspired me to write. I can't wait to make this recipe. 

Cook the Vineyard

Summer in a bowl. Click here for the recipe. 

Choose kindness. Every gesture counts. Peace and love always. 

I'm so tired.

 

I am tired.

I am really tired.

I am having a difficult time getting myself out of this deep feeling of hopelessness and dread about the way we are treating each other in this world. I am having a difficult time moving towards solutions. Towards resources. Towards fighting back. 

Politics over humanity. 

Toxicity over authenticity. 

Negativity over positivity. 

Transactional interactions over kindness.

I am tired. 

I am sure you are all tired of my voice, my posts, of me, too. I am sure I should just shut up, not share me, not share my thoughts, my feelings, my soul. Who listens anyway? Some don't understand why I do this and most don't read, but it is me. I am me. 

I wish that we lived in a country, a world, that treated everyone equally, fairly, with love, with respect, as friends, without constant judgment. I am so sad when people feel "less than". We all have felt this way. It is a shitty feeling. It is a huge burden to carry. It is time to lift the burden off each other. It is time for change. 

I wish we lived in a country that acknowledges, celebrates and respects differences. I wish we lived in a country where an open mind is the norm instead of the exception. 

I wish we lived in a country where it would be harder for someone to purchase an automatic weapon than for a woman to end a pregnancy safely in any state. It is time for change. 

I wish we lived in a country where two of the nine Justices on our Supreme Court were not accused of sexual misconduct and yet are in the position to make life-altering decisions for women.

I wish that the system built for heterosexual white men would grow and change as the world has grown and changed. We, as individuals, grow. With time. All of our lives. We carry. Shouldn't the system change too? Life is hard. For every single one of us. 

By stating this, I am not saying that heterosexual white men don't matter. I am not saying that life isn't hard for them. Life is hard for everyone.  I am simply saying that if you put everyone at the back of the room in a line and a dollar bill at the front of the room, the heterosexual white man will get that dollar bill first. Every. Single. Time. Isn't it our responsibility as people of the world to do what we can to make it a better country for everyone? The world is complex and we are all figuring it out as we go but don't we want to learn lessons from the past? 

We all matter. We all matter. We all matter. 

Every day I pass a homeless woman who lives in a bus stop near my house. I think about her every single day. I have brought her flowers. I make sure she has water. She is human. She has feelings. She never leaves that spot. She matters. 

It is time.

It is time for change. 

Song to Play: 99 Red Balloons, version by Goldfinger

Recipe to Cook: Lemon Linguine. One of my very favorite summer recipes. 

Film to Watch: Who We Are: A Chronicle of Racism in America, Netflix

Choose kindness. Every gesture counts. Peace and love always. 

Being brutally honest and scared out of my mind to do so

 

I am going through a bit of an identity crisis.

Who am I? 

Here I am, middle of my life and I am about to have an empty nest. For as long as I can remember I have been on a trajectory. Go to high school, get into college, get a job, get married, have kids, raise kids, get kids into college. I am a mom. They are my everything. And it is time. Time for them to begin their own lives. Be on their own. Home will always be here but it is different. The focus is different. It has to be different. For all of us. 

What does that mean?

It means everything.

And it scares the shit out of me. 

So I am going to pause. 

I am going to recognize how I am feeling. I am not going to feel badly for feeling this way. I am going to acknowledge it and I am going to allow myself to feel all of the emotions that go along with it. I am going to do my best not to let fear define me. I am going to try to let myself define me. 

So, while I may feel a little lost and while I am experiencing some growing pains, at my core, I am still me. At my spine, I am still me. At my heart, I am still me. I am just trying to peel back some layers to discover exactly who that is. And then, when I find even a piece of who that is, I am going to strive to find deep love and compassion for that soul. 

Song to Listen to: 

Lovin' Me by Kid Cudi (feat. Phoebe Bridgers)

Yo-ohh-ohh

Yo-ohh-ohh

Mmm

Ohh

Please, Lord, hear me now, hope you're listening
It's been centuries, least what it seems to me
I've been on this road, my eyes glistenin'
As I stare at Scott, I know he's all I got
Our past don't matter, babe, I'm much stronger
And fly much farther, soar overseas
Finally see, I'll keep on climbing
Ridin' the lightning and I am sure

At times I really didn't show
What was wrong with me, wrong with me
I told myself I cannot grow
Without lovin' me, lovin' me
But this is just the hell that lives inside, hmm
Tell me now, where to? Please be my guide

I've been goin', goin' in circles
Reoccurring dreams, talkin' in my sleep
Then I'm floatin' up to the surface
I can finally breathe, I could do anything
And I don't know why it's alright
And it's not at the same time
Then I look up at a blue sky
And I know

At times I really didn't show
What was wrong with me, wrong with me
I tell myself I cannot grow
Without lovin' me, lovin' me
This is just the hell that lives inside, hmm
Tell me now, where to? Please be my guide

Yo-ohh (ah-ah)
Yo-ohh (la-la-la, la-la-la, la-la-la, hmm)
Yo-ohh (ah, ah, ah-ah)
Mmm (mmm)

Meal to Cook: 

Poolside Sesame Slaw, Smitten Kitchen (Click here for link)

This was a perfect meal. Perfect for a nice summer day. 

Choose kindness. Every gesture counts. Peace and love always. 

Mother's Day

 

Today is Mother's Day. May 8, 2022. A day to celebrate moms of all kinds and mother figures everywhere. It may be a Hallmark holiday but it is still a day worthy of celebration. To celebrate women. All women really.

Today I think about my family. 

I think about my great-grandmother who went to college in Armenia. My great-grandmother who was supposed to study medicine in the United States but followed love instead. My great-grandmother who walked out her front door and threw her keys in the bushes only to walk hundreds of miles, hearing cannons, with her husband, baby and young daughter.  A family literally fleeing for their lives in the middle of a genocide. My great-grandfather who was listed to be killed because he was a professor and a band leader. An intellectual. A great-grandmother who had to bury her baby weeks later in Russia before taking a passenger ship from Georgia to the United States to start over. But alive and as a family.  

I think about my grandmother who came to the United States and did not know one word of English when she started Kindergarten. I think about my grandmother who went to college and sat on stage with a dozen other female graduates from Cooper Union. I think about my grandmother who was a gifted artist. I think about my grandmother walking in New York City with her portfolio in the 1930s looking for a job as a commercial artist. And, getting one. I think about my grandmother who was the breadwinner in the family until she stopped work to start her family. I think about my grandmother who loved her family fiercely until the day she died. Everything she did was for her family. My anoush-pan.

I think about my mom who grew up with a scientist and an artist as parents and with the weight of Armenian history. I think about my mom who went to college in Pennsylvania, married my father and started her own family. I think about my mom who taught her children that family is the most important thing in the world. Above everything else. I think about my mom who taught me that kindness will always prevail and what being truly selfless and truly good looks like. I think about my mom who taught by example that it is better to give than to receive. My mom who taught me more lessons than I can ever express with words and who makes the world a better place just by being here. My mom who does not know how special she is and in the end, all she really wants is to be surrounded by loved ones.

Always. 

Always.

Each family has a story. Each story is valuable. Each and every one.

Choose kindness. Every gesture counts. Peace and love always. 

Me

I stare. I stare at a blank page. A clean slate. A new day. Music plays. Candle is lit. Coffee is in my mug. A mug that says Breathe. It is a mug that is not shaped like a typical mug. It is a reminder. A reminder that differences make us unique and yet we are all more similar than we realize sometimes. A reminder of my friend, Kim, who gave it to me. A reminder of my favorite store in Massachusetts. A reminder of how inspired I was whenever I walked into it, seeing the art around me. 

Yesterday I was reminded of something. Every single act of thoughtfulness and kindness matters. One gesture. It says so much. More than the person who offers the gesture even realizes and that fact makes it even more special I think.

My youngest daughter, Sage, is about to graduate high school. She goes to a small school. Tiny really. And smaller than it was when we arrived. But....it is special. I appreciate it even more so now that our time there is coming to a close. 

Lately, my senses are heightened, my emotions are running a little higher, I am in my head. I'm thinking more. And feeling more. And when a group of people extended themselves for the soccer team, it went straight to my heart. It warmed even the edges that are a bit frayed at times. It made me remember that one moment can affect us. It made me realize that we all have the power to change a moment. To change someone or a group. It is a lesson in humanity. In how kindness matters...always. 

Song to listen to: Record Player by Daisy the Great and AJR
Book to read: Devil in the White City by Erik Larson
Show to watch:  The Staircase on HBO Max
Recipe to make: Tuna with Capers, Olives and Lemon

Easy recipe, tasty and perfect for a hot spring or summer evening. 

Choose kindness. Every gesture counts. Peace and love always. 

Feelings

I have always loved writing.  I remember writing poetry at an early age.  I remember writing about my uncle who was killed in a car accident. I remember writing about the sea. Then, older, I remember two papers I wrote in college (race relations at Colgate using Homer's Odyssey was one and the other comparing the movie Fatal Attraction to Jane Eyre) that I absolutely loved writing at the time. Do I specifically remember because I received good grades or because I had really thought about and believed in what I put down on paper? 

Maybe it was because I found a voice that no one could tell me was wrong. I could express myself unabashedly. I didn't write expecting many people to read what I had written. In fact until the internet I don't think I cared if anyone read it. I am embarrassed to admit but I know I care if anyone reads these words. Why though? Why should I care? Validation for my voice? Why do I need validation for me just being me? 

For those who know me, I am an extrovert. I express. I am someone who lives by connection and I basically seek it in every aspect of my life. I reach out to all sorts of people in many different ways. Sometimes I reach out knowing I’ll be rejected. I reach out to people that are like me and unlike me. I also believe in the underdog. I believe in making sure no one ever feels alone. I believe in connecting people. I believe in kindness always. I am very hard on myself. I feel. I feel deeply. Too deeply especially without an appropriate outlet to express myself. Writing then becomes cathartic. It opens my mind and brings a form of clarity.

I am more expressive in words than when I am when interacting or being with those I love sometimes, maybe more than sometimes actually. Is that fear? I keep up some version of a wall, which may be surprising for some, but then why is it easy for me to write it down. Especially in such an open way. Is it a cover? I go back to what I wrote before. I can write without seeing a reaction. I can be vulnerable without being vulnerable - it is safer. I can write and then pretend I didn't because that isn't public facing. No one can tell me my feelings are wrong but don't I need the interaction and the challenge to grow?  

In some ways, there is similarity to what acting might be like. When you are acting, you can be open and vulnerable by being the vehicle for the vision of the director and producers but it isn't really showing who I am deep inside, not really anyway. Assumptions are made about the actor based on their roles or interviews. Assumptions can also be made by what I write especially because it is inherently personal but my writing is about a singular moment in time. In both acting and writing then, it is a form of expression, whilst keeping a part of myself safe or guarded. I long to feel comfortable taking the risk in all aspects of my life. Feeling confident that if I fall yet again, I can and will pick myself up as a stronger more fulfilled person. Letting myself go. Just to be. Truly be. 

I have always thought that I could have done something more expressive artistically in my life. I have always, always dreamed about it and I could almost touch it at various points. Is that ridiculous? Is that stupid?  Is it cliché? 

Yes. Yes, it is in some ways. 

But does it make it wrong? 

What brought me to sit down this morning? Why did I feel the need to write? I mean I just wrote a blog post.  I think yesterday I touched the surface and there was still so much more to process than I realized.

I am feeling emotional. I am feeling vulnerable. It is scary but it make me human and it makes me feel alive. My world is on the cusp of changing yet again. I am about to watch my daughter play in her last home soccer game. She is injured but fighting strong. So many emotions flow through me. It isn't her last soccer game but it is the last one I will witness in her home stadium. The world that I have known and been comfortable living for so long is shifting. The ground is shaky and therefore my core is unstable. Change is coming. And, I can write about change but facing it inside and out, individually and head on, that is the moment. Will I watch the change or be the change? What do you think?

So, this is my playlist. I don't know if you'll be able to access it but I am giving it a try. 

Repeat Playlist

In the event it doesn't, play Homecoming by Ye, with Chris Martin. All drama aside, listen or read these lyrics. They are masterful. 

Choose kindness. Every gesture counts. Peace and love always. 

Amy