Off for a Mosey

Mother's Day wk-end (Yachats) 2012 020

This time of year I like to head out and immerse myself in some fresh Spring-into-Summer experiences. It is Mother’s Day week-end, and my mother passed away during very close to Mother’s Day, so it seems appropriate. Not because I am yet burdened with grief–it has been thirteen years and she is still with me in countless ways–but because little could more excite her than getting out to meet new people, absorb  new sights, and return with more stories to share. It was like she carried a cache around with her into which she would nestle bits and pieces of many places and faces, whole conversations, moments of insight, detailed descriptions of all she felt and observed. A treasure chest is what she had within her, and she passed much on to me, to all who knew her.

Curiosity is one thing I got from her (and, of course, my father, if I need to be inclusive). She was usually aglow with something that happened on the way to the store or what she garnered when interacting with a stranger or friend or perhaps after reading something. She sometimes would stand at the kitchen window while cooking or wasjing dishes and gaze into the distance as though she was catching sight of something marvelous. It could be a songbird or sunlit leaf or shape of the clouds–or her own imaginative thoughts. And, I must note, her prayers for us all and many more.

I, too, have a very large appetite for learning, doing, rooting out the unusual or interesting if ordinary moments, people that render and reflect lives that are deep and complex. Life is noteworthy in its infinite varieties no matter where one goes in this world. Sometimes that is just down the street and around a corner. I want to see what is there, too, though I may be uncertain of the outcome. Or perhaps because of that.

But this time it is a bit farther afield in the jewel of the Pacific Northwest that is my home. So I will not be writing blog posts this coming week but shall return with a broader, refreshed viewpoint and my own smallish satchel of new stories and ideas. And quite simply, the pleasure of any travel is its own reward.

So, to those of you who are practicing mothers, have mothers you are not always thrilled with (are any of us, every single moment?) or deeply love your mothers or profoundly long for a mother…I send you good will and kindnesses. Remember to care for yourself, too–we are all our own mothers in the end.

Talk to you after next week!

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