Happy Birthday

Happy Nineteenth Birthday Kiddo!

It's hard to imagine now but there were days I wasn't sure we were both going to make it to your third, fourth or fifth birthday but here you are, 19 and we are both still going strong.

As many days as there have been when I wanted to strangle you, there have been so many more that I have been so grateful that I didn't.  Not just because of the jail time, but because of the young lady you are.

In spite of the homeschooling that many thought would ruin your chances at a future, you survived the transition from home to dorm life, made a boatload of new friends, made it through your first illness without me and managed not to spend every penny you had. Thank you for the countless phone calls you made home as you walked across campus from one class to another.

Year two brings new excitement with your first apartment and room mate. With so many of your friends renting in the same building living off campus will have many advantages of last year.  Cooking for yourself should be interesting. I'm glad you know how and I hope you stay motivated to do it well. 

Now that you can legally drink, I hope you never try to find yourself at the top or the bottom of any bottle.  I pray that whether marijuana becomes legal or not you remember that your body and brain are better off without them.

I am honoured that you invited me to share a Birthday Brunch with you. I suspect that as time moves forward I will begin missing more and more of your ordinary moments which has made this summer that much sweeter. I hope I am always invited to be for the big things.

You love well, I'm glad you at least learned that along the way.  Your friendship with Abby has been almost as long as your life and I'm glad to see that it continues.  Two years with Vincent hasn't changed you much.  I am happy to know he treats you well and, as always, will be watching to ensure  that continues. 

Advice for year nineteen... Feel pain when it comes to you. Work your way through it. I promise that no matter how deep the hole you fall in I will be madly shovelling with all my tools to extricate you but even if I drop a rope, only you can choose to grab onto it.

My heart made yours to love. If you do nothing other than that you make me proud.

Happy 19th kiddo.

Love,
Mom

Into the Light

When I saw these rocks, a question came to mind. One I had to answer for myself and one which, maybe you too would like to contemplate.

What holds you up?

As solid and heavy as these stones are, they are also stacked one atop another. Some are the foundations on which others are able to stand tall above the water. No matter how solid the rock or the foundation, still some lean.

Perhaps they were not originally placed this way.  Perhaps over time the wind, the water, have caused shifts, created crevices which needed to be compensated for. Perhaps some have even met the bough (or stern) of a boat lost in the darkness.

Regardless of the why, the question remains.

What or who provides me with a solid foundation. What or who keeps me from falling.

Like the water, my answer has shifted through time. Like the rocks, in the darkness, I can't always see what lays beneath, or what I have used to prop myself up or leaned myself into for stability.

It is not until the day breaks that I am able to look around and recognize the changes which took place int he darkness... the shoulders I am standing on... the hands that fed me... the arms that encircled me... the things and the people that saw me through.

As I look at the stones I know that like in my life, there is even more unseen going on beneath the surface of the water.

More propping, more leaning, more foundation to be unearthed and be grateful for. It's something which I continue to contemplate in hopes of discovering the truth about myself and my relationships. Recognizing my who's and what's is enlightening but also heartbreaking. It's a question which, when answered honestly, has the power to change you.

What holds you up?

The Bridge

Marty and I bought a canoe.  A canoe, a strange and wonderful thing which, with a little steam, allows us to travel short or long distances in silent contemplation.

I have to admit it was Marty's idea. I have never been much for canoeing.  For me, until now, it was a cottage sport. One I engaged in happily enough but if it were missing, I would contemplate the water from a different vantage point.

Still...

So, we have a canoe. Living in the City, I didn't think we would use it much. I guess twice, once last week at Jordan Harbour and once this week in the Credit River, isn't really much but I'll tell you what happened because of the canoe.

Our house in Mississauga is close to Lakeshore. When we decided to canoe, we looked for a place nearby and found that just 10 minutes away from the place I have lived much of my life there is a canoe club.

When we got our 50lb green machine harnessed onto the roof of the trusty silver Honda, we took off. Within the half hour we were pushing from shore. At first, there was a lot of noise from a park across the river, the Boat Club downstream and the GO train making it's way from Toronto. As we paddled on, however, wild greenery overtook the manicured lawns and bird chatter overtook the human voices.

I wouldn't say it was silent... there were a few others using the water... but it was quiet.

Still...

Not long into our trip, we approached a bridge which I recognized as Dundas Street crossing over the Credit River.

I told Marty, "I have always crossed that bridge and looked down at the people paddling in the water, today we are the people in the water."

As we paddled on I realized that I will never cross that Dundas Street bridge again without knowing what it feels like to glide underneath it while nature teems around me. Next time I will know there are willow trees down there arching over the water, their leaves gently skimming it's surface. I will remember the strength of the current, the small family of red-breasted Mergansers. I will remember the warmth of the water rushing around my legs while small pebbles press against the bottom of my shoes where the water shallowed and we had to disembark and lift our boat to turn her back.  I will remember the strength of the current, the small family of red-breasted Mergansers.

As we settled the canoe back atop the car and pulled away from the club Marty asked, "Do you ever think you will take the canoe out for a run by yourself?"

A month ago, when he was avidly searching, my immediate answer would have been NO! - yes, emphatically so.

On this day I had to say "Not now. Perhaps when I get better at steering, more confident that I can... perhaps then I will."

I don't know when that will be. Not sure how long it will take but I know that in the meantime I will enjoy the learning and the very different view it gives me of our world.