Time Is Like A Silent Whisper


 

retro timerI’ve had so many moments that have been capsul-ized by other people stopping me and telling me not to miss them, to embrace everyday, to stop and smell the flowers, that it is rather ironic to be the one telling  the young people I know now in my life, that message of Carpe’ Diem. To enjoy these moments, all of them, even the tough ones, “because someday they will be your good old days.”

I’ve shared before in another post, how my grandma once asked me how old I thought she felt inside. I was about thirty and she was in her early seventies. I asked, “I don’t know grandma how old do you feel?” And she’d said, “about 17” So matter of factly, I never forgot it.

 

NOW I GET it! Sometimes, when I am in the shower, with my eyes closed, there  is something so familiar about doing something I’ve done since I was ten that makes me feel kind of ageless, trying out a new shampoo, takes me back to when I was a teen with my youth in front of me. My hair was a lot longer and my body a lot younger, but I sometimes feel like that young girl when I am standing under that water, and not someone’s grandma!  Maybe everyone has those certain times that just catch you off guard like a rubber band and you are snapped back in time. A scent, a song, a taste, hearing an old friend’s name, sends you there. I know swimming or riding a bike, mowing the lawn or even weeding the rocks takes me back in an instant. As if time stands still while I take a magic carpet ride into yesterday.

A few years later, an older woman, (probably younger than I am today) stopped me in Target when my little baby girl looked up at me (less than 2) and said “Mommy I love you.” And the woman said, “Cherish these days, my daughter just got married and I’d give anything to have these days back again.” I smiled and kind of knew what she meant, but I do feel as if I did cherish every minute of those baby days with my kids. I loved when they’d wake up and it was a new day with new discoveries. But I did kind of rush them, I mean I loved the progress, the first sign of recognition, the first words, first steps. Looking  back,  I could have just been  a little more patient, instead of always looking forward to what came next. Now my daughter is getting married this summer and those memories of those women’s words, one my grandma, and the other a complete stranger resonates more for me now than any other time in my life.

Sometimes when I am in Target, I hear a little baby’s voice  chatting to a half listening mom and I might say something to plant the same seed that was planted in my heart a little less than three decades ago, other times I hear a screaming kid and I wonder if I’d still have the patience. But think… yes I would, it is different when they are your own. Howling or not. You want to scream yourself at times, but in the end, it is the best thing I ever did in my life.

Today there is a part of me that looks back a lot, that knows that someday I will look back with regret if I don’t stop and embrace these days. Because you know what? Every moment, now will someday be our good old days. I have a favorite Winnie The Pooh saying that goes like this:

“Though honey is a very good thing, sometimes right before you taste the honey, is almost as good as when you do!”

winnie pot upside down

 

It is all about embracing the moments before the good things happen. To live in the moment. Even the frustrating ones. To look forward, but not too far ahead so you don’t miss the minute you are in.

Time is like a silent whisper,

a gentle moving nudge

trying to hold it too close

as it evaporates

through our fingers

or letting it go

embracing the moment

as the memory lingers

Diane Reed©

2016

 

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Or did you just know?


book shelves in library

What comes first, the reader or the writer? For me, first being read to, and then reading, inspired me to write. It made me think at a very young age,” I can do that.” Or perhaps, I want to do that. I know others do it better. And yet, when we do something well, we just know. A dancer, a singer, a baseball player or an actor. We may have encouragement from parents or teachers and adults prompting us to hone our craft. But it is something more, there is just something inside of each of us when we have found that one thing we want to improve on without anyone telling us to.

It is funny, I remember in about second and third grade, grasping the concept of writing and my favorite authors that inspired me to want to do it too. Roland Dahl, Beverly Cleary, Ray Bradbury and C.S. Lewis, just to name a few.  I know that as an adult, I now have my accrual of favorites and I know that they are both similar and different than my style and that I am always aiming for improving and use them as a sort of an archetype. A model of sorts to sharpen my own skills by their style of writing and their formulas.

When I knew that I could write poetry, or could write verses and rhyme sentences, I studied the greats and it wasn’t as black and white as a certain genre such as Fiction or non-fiction. Poetry is an entirely different concept. I have always loved T.S. Elliot and Of course, Elizabeth Barrett Browning, who intrigued me when I’d heard she was an ancestor. Whether or not, I ever have proof of that, just learning that, I think helped to inspire me and for me to feel as if talent might be inherited and hopefully a few blood cells found their way into my bloodline!

Every once and a while don’t you just stop and wonder, why am I doing this? Why can’t I not do this? When did I ever come up with this concept that I might have something worthy of sharing? Do you remember when you first had the notion? Was it some encouraging word from someone else, or did you just know?

Most of my poetry is very Hallmark-ish I always loved Hellen Steiner Rice and I think I tend to count cadence and beats and rhyme accordingly. I am trying not to rhyme. To  dig deep and attempt new things.

Below is a brand new style for me. Not sure I am there yet… It is dark, always dark lately. And very random, no cadence, no formula. I will write a happier one tomorrow! It’s so hard not to rhyme!!!! Not good at not doing that yet! (this is just what came out of me this morning…  I think sometimes, whatever rises up is what needs to be shared… maybe for someone else somewhere…)

On The Brim

cliff girl looking down

as I smell the storm passing

trying to escape where I’ve been

the rain fights with the fog

the storm wins

broken glass eye

it’s hard to see

behind the pain

barely holding on

as it rains

the clutter in my head

crashes in

pieces of glass stare back at me

broken glass3

shattered on the floor

as each finger lets go.

cliff stepping off

Diane Reed

2016

My half of friendship


A Michele's Latte

Friendship is a funny thing as you get older. You understand more. You tolerate more and you cherish more. Hopefully because of what we learn in the end, we give more.  Recently  (all my loyal readers know) that I lost my childhood bestfriend of over a half a century. It has made me reflect on a lot of things this last year, especially since her birthday just passed. A few years earlier, we’d had a silly falling out. In all of the years we’d known each other, that had never happened. Not to say we hadn’t been annoyed with one another in all those years. Probably, no absolutely, her with me and me and at times me, with her. We’d just weathered our feelings silently and moved on and never had so much as a cross word with one another.

This one had to do with one of her friends repeating a conversation she’d overheard me having with my husband. I’d been annoyed at something she’d said to me and was venting in private. This gossip she shared with my best friend was very silly and yet damaging and it took a good month for us to repair, and get through it. Though it probably made our friendship stronger in the end. NOT what this other friend was hoping I am sure. Later, at her funeral, this friend of hers came up to me, pretty drunk and apologized. My daughter said that “liquid apologies” don’t count. But it did for me, because I am all about validation, and sometimes the “liquid” provokes more honesty than anything ever could, and it told me that this woman knew what she’d done. I forgave her. But I do regret that she was allowed to steal even a month of my friendship with my best friend. Something, I must take partial responsibility for allowing.

In all the things I have learned from my friendships, I have learned to embrace every minute. March Madness is a good way to describe the birthdays I have to remember in March. Having one less, made me realize that I am blessed to celebrate the birthdays that I do, and one less is not better!

The other day one of my friends who has recently lost her husband to ALS (one of my husband’s best friends) messaged me to tell me that she’d be in town  and asked if I “had time” to meet. My first reaction to a question like that, usually always is me scrambling to make excuses. And it’s a bummer for me that I have that automatic attitude. In my head, I have so little spare time, that I am selfish with it.  Over the years, I have never been one to have many friends. I hone the ones that I hold dear and for me that is enough. Though there are those few friends I will drop everything to be with and Michele is one of those friends.

I went through a particularly hard time a few years ago. One that I couldn’t share with a lot of friends and Michele didn’t judge me or even nudge me, she just listened. No advice, no opinons, just prayed with me and continued to be my friend through the worst of it. As I was driving to our destination, I felt blessed. A feeling that I usually feel after I’ve met and am glad I ended up saying yes. But this particular morning I was so happy to be going and excited to see my friend who I’d not seen for a while. And it made me think about all of the other times I missed out on by feeling I didn’t have time and saying no to other friend’s invitations.

This special woman that has taught me so much about friendship, who comes to town and seeks “me” out and wants to share “her” time with me. And our time was so special, I kept pushing back the minutes, not wanting to leave.

A Michele

Our place to meet -At Spearhead Coffee in Paso

It made me think… Of all the special women in my life. The ones who have evolved. The ones I would do anything for. The ones that you realize are worth the time. The ones who feel you are worth the time. The ones who you have known for decades, the ones who you work with and suddenly realize that they are one of those ones you include in that small handful, the ones who come through for you in ways you never could imagine, and make you want to do the same. It really is all about the blessing of being the other half of something pretty special called friendship.

A Michele and me

Michele insisted on this selfie!