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With camera in hand, safari-style, I gathered up a few items – mementos and keepsakes – from various rooms throughout the house, plucked from the kitchen counter, the dresser in our bedroom, the desk in our office, a shelf in the guest room.

Color. Texture. Remembrance.

  • A painted plate from a holiday craft venture with my son
  • The unique picture frame with a photo of my father
  • The silk comb I wore in my hair on our wedding day nineteen years ago
  • Sawdust and wood-shavings from Dad’s sawmill in a Mason jar, tied with a bow made from a strip of fabric from one of his old flannel shirts

Yes, these are a few of my favorite things.

Cee’s Fun Foto Challenge: My Favorite Things, Verse one

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Unlike both my mother and my mother-in-law, I hope to remain physically active into my 70s and I don’t just mean mall walking or potting a few container plants come spring and fall. I want to hike the Rocky Mountains and shoot my .22 and ride my bike and golf and maybe even discover a new passion or two as the years go by.

Like both my mother and my mother-in-law, I hope to have perfected a variety of recipes – dinner entrees and baked goods that I can whip up without having to refer, again and AGAIN, to what’s written in my flour-smudged cookbooks or scribbled onto recipe cards.

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Unlike my mother-in-law, I hope to continue to travel and seek new adventures, always finding joy in the facets of our everyday lives, appreciating and seeking to commune with nature and exploring the world all around me – both close to home as well as across the globe.

Unlike my mother, I hope to still have my husband at my side, healthy and well, alive and kickin’, until death comes knocking on the door for both of us at once. I’ve seen how difficult it has been for her to carry on without Dad and while she’s managing just fine now, it has been a horrible struggle for her and I hope not to go there.

Like my mother-in-law, I hope to continue enjoy playing cards with family and friends. A few years ago we held a Game Night at our house and it was so much fun that I’m wondering even as I write this why it is that we haven’t organized something like this again since then. Note to Self: Arrange for a little soirée once we’re past the rush and tumble of the holidays!

Like my mother, I hope to continue to enjoy holiday decorating and landscaping and color and fabric and fun clothes and jewelry. On second thought, I am certain that I will!

Like my mother, I know that I’ll continue to pursue my love of reading.

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Like my mother-in-law, I know that I’ll continue to love her son with all of my heart, soul and being.

Like both these women, who play dominant roles in my life to some degree or another, I am my own unique self. I know I have strengths and passions and characteristics they do not and never will possess. But just as well, I am sometimes lacking in areas in which they neither of them struggle, such as patience, calm or restraint.

We all have to strike out on our own, seeking pathways that best suit and fit who we are as individuals but in many ways, we can benefit and learn from those who have walked before us.

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Fresh faces, new spaces.

Throwing our all into brand new places.

It took everything we had and then some…

One foot in front of the other. It’s all that we knew to do.

Too many times we feared that we had erred in impossible proportions to anything we’d been called upon to do before this undertaking of ours. There was no light for us, only the darkness of the tunnel.

Now, at long last, we are able to bask in the glow of our perseverance and we delight in the here and now.

Continue on. Trust in yourself. And know that all things ultimately change. Revel in the good and strive for to deliver yourself from that which is not.

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The view outside my eyeballs is no different than it was before Thursday, December 11, 2014. It’s the same overcast sky. The same brown, lifeless trees. The same Christmas décor looking strangely out of place with no snow on the ground. People come and go about their business, oblivious to what has changed for ME since that day. The traffic on Fleur Drive and University Avenue and I-35 still chugs along, its vehicle’s inhabitants on their way to jobs, homes, shopping malls and other obligations and passions of life.

Make no mistake though. Something HAS changed, at least in my own little world. The sights all around me are amazing, utterly amazing. It’s true that what has changed, for me, is more a consequence of my yearning for convenience, for want of a kinship with those who’ve never known (and therefore perhaps have always just taken it for granted) what it’s like to see without an apparatus of visual aid of any kind.

Having Lasik surgery – on eyes with 20/200 and 20/400 vision – was a decision made after much deliberation, caution, exuberance and a mix of both anticipation and apprehension. Twice during the procedure, fascinating in its own right, I was tempted to ask the nurse to hold my hand. The somber reality of what might, of what could go wrong was ever present but still I went through with it. My fears were, I’m certain, not unlike what anyone else who’s had the surgery has experienced. For some reason, that comforted me and made it easier to forge ahead.

Now, my eyes are healing from the process. I’m taking all the necessary precautions, putting the drops in at the prescribed intervals, wearing the plastic shields while I sleep, taking care to keep hard, airborne objects and elbows from striking or even a stray finger intent on rubbing or scratching too close for comfort. Family, friends and work colleagues will have to deal with seeing me without makeup for the next two weeks (a scary proposition, indeed!) They may have to also put up with the occasional, spontaneous tears such as what I’ve experienced since the surgery. I think I cried at least four or five times within 24 hours of the procedure. The beauty, the reality of being able to see, unaided, continues to amaze me.

It’s overwhelming to think – even now as I look up from my laptop – to look out at the Starbucks parking lot and realize that I am able to SEE all of this without glasses which I’ve worn since third grade, without contact lenses which I’ve worn for more than thirty years. My vision is as crisp and clear as it ever was. Indeed, on my follow up exam the morning after the procedure, I was told I’m now seeing 20/20. Incredible. How fortunate I am to be able to see – and this was true even before Lasik! – this magnificent, wonderful world I live in, the world all around me

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Educating oneself is a lifelong process. Unfortunately, some of us don’t learn as quickly as others that circle within our orbits. Apart from formal coursework, done at the university or collegiate level, there is the learning that occurs as a consequence of having lived.

Hard lessons of life, often related to matters both of the heart and the wallet, are seldom sought after curriculums; they are, however, for better or worse, those that leave the most lasting impressions.

We late bloomers are often reluctant, resistant, fool-hardy, naïve or otherwise clueless to what life is trying to teach us and not every classroom environment yields results. So many wasted years. If I could go back in time (to ponder such a thing, I know, is a monumental waste of energy), I would put more passion and enthusiasm toward being a better mother and living a healthier life – and making better financial choices. The time, money and tears that I frittered away on toxic relationships drained what meager resources I did have at my disposal and only served to damage my own sense of self-worth. I suppose some of those lessons were ultimately learned at last – just not in a timely enough fashion.

Painful as it is to dwell on our own past mistakes and to harbor regrets over what might have been, it’s even more difficult to bear witness to those that we care about while they continue to struggle and fail to pay attention (as we once failed to do as well) in The Classroom of Life. How to respond? What to say? What CAN one do other than to just offer support and alternative paths if pressed for help or if asked for our opinion? The crucial point, is it not? If one’s advice is not sought, it’s difficult to sit still and say nothing, other than to perhaps describe lessons learned from our own pasts and hope that a connection might be made. Aside from inserting ourselves when we observe truly self-destructive behavior, all we can do is offer love and encouragement. Seeing someone suffering and grieving is heart-breaking especially when there is light at the end if only one would steer toward a different tunnel and detour from the path currently taken.

But then that is how the lesson is more stridently learned. To shield those that we care for from these lessons in life would be to deny them the opportunity to grow and develop in ways that only their own experiences and methods of coping can provide.

Life. You are one tough governess.

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In third grade, I began wearing glasses. When it was determined that I needed them to see better (one eye is 20/200, the other 20/400), my mother drove me to Capitol Optical in Mason City, easily recognizable among the shops on the north end of town by their signage: a huge pair of cat glasses that could be seen two blocks away. My parents were frugal to a fault and I’m sure they made certain I had the most inexpensive (read: ugliest) pair of frames that were available.

Sure, I could now SEE but at an aesthetic price. In high school, I ‘accidentally’ lost my glasses over the side of a bridge so that I could walk the hallways at school (until I could get my replacement pair) and sit in class without those blasted contraptions taking up facial real estate. That I couldn’t tell where I was going or read the chalk board was secondary. It was a stupid stunt but indicative of how much I thought not having to wear glasses would improve my appearance. Whether it was successful or not, I can’t say. I just know that it made me feel that it did, however briefly.

In my latter 20’s, I finally was able to afford contact lenses and the impact was immediate and definitely welcome. I loved not having to wear glasses! Over the years, it’s simply been part of my morning and evening routine to rinse and insert my contacts to greet the new day and to cleanse, disinfect and store them before bedtime.

Now, thirty years later, I have (finally) decided to have Lasik surgery done. Even with the surgery date scheduled for several weeks now, it was not until yesterday that I settled in to an acceptance of which route I would ultimately take. I queried everyone I knew who had already had the procedure done and to a person each of them told me it was one of the best decisions they had ever made. I even posted a question to my Facebook friends and after a comical, albeit frustrating exercise of telling people again and AGAIN that yes, I already knew I would still need reading glasses, I was thankful for their input and inspired by their stories of how glad they all were to have had the surgery.

My hesitation was rooted in one basic concern: the cost of the procedure and the knowledge that some of the people I spoke with had to start wearing glasses again after a period of five to ten years, although none of them expressed regret for having it done. On further examination, I learned that while some folks now wear glasses again, it isn’t all the time and they can, in fact, function well without them. Incremental changes in their vision made it necessary to wear glasses again for longer distances such as while driving. Another consideration is that three of my sisters – all of whom wear glasses again now but as described above – had Lasik done when they were much younger. Over the years, as explained to me by the nurse at the clinic where I’ll have the procedure done, it is likely their eyes have been stabilizing over the years. Since I’m quite a bit older than they were when they had it done, it’s possible that could be a factor in my favor. While there are no guarantees, of course, this information made it easier for me to come to a final decision to go ahead with the surgery.

Yesterday I was in awe of the realization that when I took out my contacts last night before bed, this was the last time I would ever do so. As I prepare for the surgery one week from tomorrow, I must forego wearing contact lenses just as I did prior to the pre-examinations to determine whether I was a candidate for Lasik. The space in my make-up drawer where I keep the cases for both my glasses and contacts will now open up, to make room for additional make-up, no doubt. Never again will I need to rush to the store to get more saline or make my annual pilgrimage to Target Optical to order my next year’s supply of contact lenses.

I am looking forward to many of the benefits (large and small) of unfettered vision: seeing the alarm clock should I wake up during the night, being able to read the shampoo bottle that sits on the shelf in the shower, having clear views of the people and things underwater while swimming and the freedom of going about my business each day or climbing into bed at night without the hassle of dealing with contacts or glasses. Truly, anyone with 20/20 vision who has never had the need for an aid of any kind in order to see, cannot comprehend what these small ‘gifts’ will feel like to someone who’s worn glasses his or her entire life.

People have told me it will be life-changing. I’ve made my decision and I am ready.

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Farewell to fall and, depending on where one lives, hello to the beauty and bluster of winter. For some of us here in the Midwest, we’ve gotten an early taste of what perhaps awaits us in the long months ahead.

Autumn is my favorite time of year, chock full of warm and welcoming colors and that indescribable scent and weight and feel of the invigorating, crisp and, at times, brisk air. The inevitable cycle of the seasons dictates, however, that fall must give way to what comes next: snow, wind, ice and cold.

Enter the holiday season with all its pageantry, light, love, laughter and cherished traditions. Thanksgiving, that unique American celebration, replete with feasting, family, food and football, sets the tone for Christmas. More of the same and then some…

Childhood memories and nostalgia for what was (or perhaps that which we believe had once been) is a mighty force behind the potency of the Christmas holiday. We recall the eager anticipation and countdown of Santa’s arrival, the heady excitement of seeing the bounty beneath the tree come Christmas morning, the songs and carols that still make us smile, the red and green and gold and silver of holiday décor triggering a feeling of contentment unlike any other event of the calendar year.

The holiday season is upon us now, providing those of us in more frigid climes with a welcome distraction from the bitter wind-chills, icy roads and snowy driveways that winter promises to deliver in the weeks and months ahead. And yet, winter in December can be beautiful. Softly falling snow, the calm stillness of winter woods, frost on windows and the delighted cries of children playing outdoors, rosy cheeks and colorful caps, scarves and mittens to keep them warm.

Perspective is everything and I, for one, choose to embrace this transition from fall to winter just as I did when I was a child: filled with starry-eyed wonder and an appreciation of the changing of the guard from one season to that which follows.

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I read somewhere once that to be a good writer it is helpful – encouraged even – to read as much as you can. Reading increases your vocabulary and sharpens critical thinking which are certainly useful tools for expressing oneself via the written word.

And so while I just haven’t felt like blogging much the last couple of days (NO idea where that came from) I’m going to stock up on a few brain cells by way of the engrossing Into Thin Air, quite apropos given the wintry blast that’s shaken up the heartland this mid-November weekend. Feet up, warm cup o’chai close at hand, a crock pot of chili simmering away for the evening meal and I’m good.

Inspiration: my vessel awaits!

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