Each morning I’m home, I follow the same ritual. I clean the coffee maker, grind the beans, fill the water reservoir, and press BREW. I reach into the cabinet to choose from double stacked memories, from coffee mug mementos that remind me of events, experiences, and eras of my life.
Aside from photos, I don’t keep many physical reminders of my past, but the coffee mugs are an ever-present exception. I wake up my brain and fuel my morning from these vessels, sipping from the emotions and lessons they still hold.
Continue reading Sipping a little memory each morning
I woke this morning to a fresh coat of snow on my balcony that sculpted the pots from my summer garden into frosted cupcakes. It reminded me of how my former garden would look covered in snow. I could almost feel those virgin steps into a pristine tundra full of serendipity.
For the first time in a while, I missed having a garden whose winter bones called me into the cold to capture its quiet beauty. Someday soon, perhaps I’ll have another plot to call my own. My soul seems to be beckoning nourishment from the soil once again.
For most of my adult life, I thought I possessed a critical character flaw because I don’t have close, lifelong friends. I’d look at people whose inner circle of friends knows what they were like in grade school, high school, or even college — and wonder what was wrong with me.
I look back on the ages of 20, 25, 30, 35, 40, and 45, and my inner circle looks completely different at each milestone, with very little thread between. I remember the moments of the purest, most intense connection with people who now exist mostly in memory or the periphery of life. I’m often overcome with a nostalgic sadness and regret that those moments are no longer on the center stage of my life.
It’s taken me nearly 47 years to understand, but the impermanence of nearly all of our connections is a good thing.
Continue reading Making room for what’s next
My work parking lot is adjacent to a large cemetery. This morning, a dense fog enveloped the trees and headstones, and reminded me of the way the memories of those lost fade with time. It’s up to us to honor them by sharing their story along with our own.
When I was apartment hunting in 2014, east and west facing windows were high on the list of requirements. I need to clearly see the crack of dawn and end of light of each day. It’s an important time for me, rejuvenating and restorative. The morning light stirs my mind and spirit as I grind the beans for my morning coffee. These moments are an alignment of sorts where I decide what kind of day it’s going to be. Yes, the events of the day may collude to collide with that decision, but my intention prevails more often than not.
It’s been a bright, frigid winter day, the kind where the frozen snow is noisy underfoot and your skin complains almost immediately when you step outside. I stopped near a local church while running a few errands before our New Year’s festivities to watch the final sunset of 2017. It was only fitting during a year where I spent countless evenings chasing its beauty along country roads.
Continue reading Skychasing | 12.31.17
Back in October, K and I celebrated my 46th birthday watching Matt Nathanson and Matchbox Twenty perform at the TaxSlayer Center in Moline. Matt opened with the perfect blend of concert, revival, and comedy jam that energized the crowd for Rob Thomas and crew’s last stop on their 20th anniversary tour. The arena went completely black at the same moment a single white spotlight illuminated an empty microphone stand.
Continue reading Over the threshold of a new year