Ten minutes

I make time to read two blogs: The Calm Before the Stork, written by my friend Julie Feinstein Adams, and Soule Mama, written by Amanda Blake Soule.

The first I love because it’s Julie, and I like the way she writes and sees the world. Julie is really more family than friend, and we have a lot in common.

In some ways, I have very little in common with Amanda Blake Soule, but if I was living a different life, it would be like hers. Not that I regret the choices that have led to my current life. I don’t. At all. But in a parallel universe, I would be mom to a passel of kids, homeschooling in rural somewhere, baking bread, making my own laundry detergent, sewing our clothes, and writing about it.

The last two days, Soule Mama has written about taking a bit of time for herself, ten minutes to slow down, take a breath, and be present. It’s got to be particularly challenging for her with four kids and a newborn. But in her writing, it sounds so lovely, so nourishing, I had to accept her invitation to do the same.

So tonight, as Dean, Aidan and Reba all slept, I turned off the lights in the living room, lit the little pumpkin candle on the altar honoring our Beloved Dead, and remembered.

Miles P, who died too young, and smoked the most heavenly smelling pipes, wore crazy ties, told dirty jokes in sign language, and wanted to paint his house bright orange.

Joan and Hasi — She who supported my stepmother when she came out, at a time when other family members were having trouble standing by her. And he who did tricks with cloth napkins and made the most delicious meat and cheese stuffed bread for Christmas.

Sonya, who died about a week before she was to be born to my dear friend; a baby very loved and still missed.

Bishop Mark, who baptized me and had a mischievous smile. He once set his curtains on fire making candles in the parish house. He put the fire out himself, then called the fire department.

Tara, my childhood dog. The sweetest girl who once ate a plateful of Christmas cookies, then passed out on the couch. When we found her, she looked at us so innocently having no idea her whiskers were covered in powdered sugar.

There are many more names and pictures to contemplate, memories to invite and cherish, but they will have to wait. The turkey stock for Aidan’s food requires my attention, and he’s soon to be up, and I’m hungry! But this ten minutes fed my soul and I’m looking forward to taking another soon. I hope you will, too.