Monday, August 03, 2015

Hey everyone!
Since I am out in the woods again and not able to be with you here; I thought I might instead follow the bonfire tradition of telling tales. 




Gather round folks... it's Story Time!
 Don't be afraid: it's not a scary tale!




The sun was still a glowing orb, hanging low on the horizon, but thankfully losing the stifling heat of the day, when he stepped out onto the beach.  He turned his head to catch the crash of the surf upon the shore, but instead his 8 year old nephew's excited holler filled his ears.

"Do you really think we can catch a crab Uncle Mike?"

"Sure SmallFry, I don't see why not."   

He ruffled the sun bleached head, still damp from his bath as they both headed closer to the water.
The sunset will be amazing tonight he thought, and loosed a heavy sigh.  Single, thirty something, successful and quite handsome if he did say so himself -- and he was sharing what should be a romantic setting with his nephew, instead of a beautiful young woman clasping his fingers tight.

I suppose it's better than watching the sunset alone, he mused. 

As he watched, the delighted boy race across the sand dunes, scattering seagulls with indignant cries; he really couldn't find it in his heart to be that disappointed.  The kids' enthusiasm was infectious.  And, it gave his sister and her husband a few extra moments with the newest little bundle of joy.  He smiled as he thought of baby Kailey grabbing fistfuls of his hair and squealing in delight. 
 
Yet, hopefully one day he would not walk the sand alone.

The boy was running in circles; whooping and waving his arms at the seagulls that hovered and plunged, remaining just always out of reach.  Mike chuckled to himself as he hurried to catch up.  The light was sinking fast, if they wanted to check the tide pools, they had better hurry.  As he looked up to find the boy, he noticed Edan was standing still atop a sand dune, gazing down the beach.  Coming up along side the boy he turned his head to see what could be so fascinating, that it could stop this ever in motion kid in his tracks.

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 She stood just downwind from them, the sun casting a golden halo about her, as she balanced perfectly in tree pose. Arms stretched up high, and her long hair whipping around her slim body; it's strands set afire by the setting sun.  As they watched, she slowly turned a knee to the outside, reached down with one hand to grasp a foot and pulled it back behind her, as the other hand stretched out forward: as if she was touching the golden sky.  

Perfect dancer's pose, Mike thought.

"Whoa," he heard the tiny voice beside him.  Yes, whoa too.
It also occurred to him that anyone who thought yoga pants were not the single greatest invention of the century, most definitely had to be blind.  

While both men and boy stood in rapt attention, the women gracefully returned to tree pose, and then easily shifted down to Toe Stand.  Her body the perfect contrast of stillness to the crashing waves and the whisper of the ocean breeze.  She easily transitioned one leg straight forward; palms held front in Namaste.  He could see the rise and fall of her deep breaths.  Imagined them carried softly towards him on the summer wind, to whisper a promise.   

As she moved into a twist, her face caught the light, and she seemed to glow from within.  His breath caught in his chest.  A familiar squeeze that kept him also silent and still; rooted. The sun caressed a cheek where a dampened curl lay, and he wondered what it would be like to touch that softness.  To be the man to brush the tendril aside.  To feel the softness of her hair against his own skin.....

"whoa.  How does she not fall Uncle Mike?"

The spell broken, he turned to his nephew, "Practice kiddo, lots of practice."

"Can you do that kind of yoga?"

Mike chuckled and ruffled the small head once more, "ahh, not quite Edan. but almost.  come on, we only have a little while before it will be getting dark.”

As they walked down to the waters edge, he couldn't resist one more glance back at the woman, who now stood in a Warrior's pose.   

Maybe one day he wouldn't do yoga on the beach alone either.

Photo Source: Tristan Martin on Flickr (beautiful photography!)

Until next time.
See you round the campfire!

About The Author
Leslie Botchar, aka "RoryBore", is a SAHM enjoying life one day - and one cup of coffee - at at time.
She has had several articles published in The Huffington Post, and hopes to one day marry her skills as Word Wrangler and Photo Ninja. Leslie spills it all on her blog Time Out For Mom, and invites you to join her for some Mom "Me" Time.
Connect with her: Twitter, Facebook, or Instagram.

Friday, July 31, 2015

The glitter covered microphone sparkles under the stage lights, tightly grasped in her small hands while she twirls her dress.

Because dresses should twirl you know.

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She brushes the stray curls from her eyes, squinting past the glare of the lights and into the crowd.
I know she is searching for me.
I wave; but she can't find me --- I wait for the moment of panic, or distress. 
I've been here before.  Twice.
It doesn't come.
Instead, her smile is bright - like a bright force of Nature of its' own.    Her small lips already silently mouthing the words before the song begins.

"Don't Stop Believin'
... hold onto that feeling...."
 My vision blurs briefly as I feel the warm sting of tears held back.    Can I?
Can I hold onto this feeling?    This moment?  Can't we stay here awhile?

"Just a small town girl..."
This is my 3rd - and final - Kindergarten graduation.
There will be no more.
The last time I watch one of my little birds spread its wings, and take that leap out into a bigger world.  A bigger playground with no fences, that beckons beyond the former safety of this glitter filled world.

No  more finger paint portraits on my fridge.
No  more brown paper bag puppets in my kitchen drawers.
No crafts soaked and hardened in white glue.   Or glitter glue that leaves a fine dust over my entire house.  (fine, not too upset by that one.)

I didn't think I'd be sad.
I've been here before.  Twice.
Three times

"it goes on and on and on and on..."
 The feeling is bittersweet.  I see my son standing with his friends, as I glance around the gymnasium. Too cool at 10 and 1/2 years to be in the school talent show.   Yet I remember his own big smile as he searched through those bright lights not so long ago. 

I know now, if I go over to him, two things will happen:
1) he will be as tall as my shoulders
2) he will die of embarrassment

Two ends of the spectrum.   One who still searches for me in the dark; another who avoids eye contact At All Costs.   And somewhere in this noisy, crowded auditorium, sits the third.   And let's be honest; she's probably accountable for at least a third of the noise.  
She's not likely to search for me.   I probably don't even exist in whatever world is currently swirling inside her blond head; but - if she sees me, the force of her running embrace is likely to knock me over.  And several small children around me.   She's always been a hugger.   And that's just her heart.

"hold onto that feeling..."
Three little birds.


 One mama watching.  Waiting.  Searching through the dark for who will spread their wings.
Breath held.
Did I teach you enough?

 "some will win...
.... some will lose..."
 Fly!
I actually whisper the word; much to my surprise.  Though the mama's heart shouts back: "No! Stay!  Don't let go!

Oh the heart whisper sounds as a might roar, doesn't it mamas?
But this letting go - I may as well try and hold back the tide, than try to prevent this change.

"some were born to sing the blues..."
From the stage, her little voice rings out loud and clear with the rest of her class.   They've changed some of the words, but the original overlays in my head.   When she's finished, she's supposed to sit down with her class.  She won't.   I know this.   The tiny wave tells me: I'm spotted!

She comes running over, even before the final note dies.

"Mommy, Mommy!!! I'm in Grade One now!! I'm a big girl."

The heart sighs even louder than the whisper.   It places it's bets against great odds.

"paying anything to roll the dice..."
Stay.
Fly.

In the flash of her smile and bright eyes, it hits me: her excitement is contagious.
SHE WANTS TO FLY!  

Suddenly, I realize how proud I am that she has embraced this change; this new world, with her usual enthusiasm.   Unbridled.  No Fear:  just Adventure Ahead!   She is not thinking of the new challenges she will face.   That Grade One might be harder.  Homework!  New friends!  New rules!

No - those thoughts all belong to me, as my mind wants to race ahead, as though I could change the future simply by wishing it not to be.
She only thinks: I did it!!  I graduated!

She is NOW. 

This present moment is all she grasps and holds and savours.

"going anywhere..." 
I bite my lip and will my misty eyed vision to clear.   BE HERE WITH HER!!  NOW!!!
Forget the letting gos and the what may comes, and even what has come before.

All we two have is Now.   And it's beautiful.
It's sticky glittery microphones and lights and sweet voices, and even that sneaky smile you caught from the boy on the cusp of letting go.... and holding on.    It's hugs so big you can't stand up under the force of love.

Hold onto THIS.

and don't ever stop believing:  in the power of Now. 



A quick edit I did - because we are off into the woods again!!  
If you like doing digital art, you can drop by Claudia's on Saturday to link up your creation.

See ya in a week!



About The Author
Leslie Botchar, aka "RoryBore", is a SAHM enjoying life one day - and one cup of coffee - at at time.
She has had several articles published in The Huffington Post, and hopes to one day marry her skills as Word Wrangler and Photo Ninja. Leslie spills it all on her blog Time Out For Mom, and invites you to join her for some Mom "Me" Time.
Connect with her: Twitter, Facebook, or Instagram.

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