A GLIMPSE INTO...

I read at "Secret Notebooks..." today (sorry about not being current...I've had a lot on my plate but I am catching up!) about how we don't send letters anymore and how so many of us/you enjoy both sending and receiving letters in the mail. I, too, thoroughly enjoy opening up my mailbox and peeking inside. I am always hoping that there is something really great in there. Most days there is not but every once in awhile I am totally surprised and get the excitement of seeing a familiar handwriting or a colorful envelope with drawings or stickers decorating the outside. Isn't it great how something so simple can satisfy a person's desire? I have to admit that the mailbox is one of my most favorite times of the day. I look forward to arriving at the bottom of the road, key in hand, turning the lock, and looking inside. Maybe it is the element of surprise that I like; maybe it is just the connection.

Speaking of connections: Willow wrote an incredible poem on her blog today and also posted a great photo of my other favorite place: the bathtub. I cannot live without my bathtub. My bathtub not only soothes my body when it is aching, but it also soothes my soul when it needs a deep soak also.

When one of my twins was in college she was a runner on the track team. One night she was out on the levee behind the college, practicing with her identical twin sister, and collapsed. Thank goodness her sister was with her because there was no one around (being evening and summer) when school was not in session. Someone was down in the parking lot and heard my daughter's screams and dialed 911. Thank goodness they were only a few blocks away because when they arrived my daughter was already in distress and the EMT's had to shock her three times to get her back before transporting her to the ER. We received a call from the sheriff's office that she was "code blue" and we flew to the hospital (over an hour away) as fast as we could. A week later we found out that she had something called "Sudden Death in Athlete's Syndrome" and usually it was diagnosed during an autopsy. Thank goodness that was not her. A month later she had open-heart surgery for something that there were only 100 reported cases and very few surgeries ever performed. That has been well over 10 years now and she has had the fortune of marrying a wonderful man, building a wonderful home, and having a wonderful daughter. During that time though, my bathtub was my place of solace. I wrote a poem about my tub after she went home to be on her own. It was hard to let her go and not "mother" her after all that time being at home.

Here is the poem that I wrote:

TIME TO LET GO

I lie in my tub.
Warm water and lavender bubbles seep slowly
Into every pore.
Sky is dark.
Sweet smell of candles in the air.
Clock on the wall
Is ticking.
My thoughts turn inward.
Are you doing well
Without me?
Are you safe?
I should be there with you.
You are alone.
My tub cannot wash the pain away.
Yet, months are carried upward by
The hot wax of the burning candles.
Alone, now, I can only hope that time
Will heal you.
My worries swirl down the drain of the tub.
My thoughts float on the pool of hot wax.
Tick, tock.
Tick, tock.

This virtual world of blogging is such a wonderful outlet for all things. We can share our thoughts, our dreams, our neighborhoods, our interests, and our even our sadness. I find that I have so many things in common with people from enjoying the actual mailbox, to yoga, to feeling upset about parents and children, to art and its concept and creation, to food and friends. I am constantly reminded about how small the world really is. It feels so large and many places feel so far away UNTIL I read posts by other bloggers and realize how similar we all are in one way or another. Life is full of mysteries and yet, the more we ask, the more the mysteries become solved. I feel so lucky to be alive and aware of what is around me that should not be taken advantage of. I thank each and every one of you for sharing parts of your lives with me (and others). For me it is like opening up my mailbox each day to a sweet surprise.

"HAPPINESS IS A PERFUME YOU CANNOT POUR ON OTHERS WITHOUT GETTING A FEW DROPS ON YOURSELF". Ralph Waldo Emerson