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Showing posts from May, 2018

Family Moments

My mind went back and forth as I debated about the finishing touches in my guest room.  Should I line the dresser or night stand with framed photos of romantic memories of the two of them like I’ve always done or should I leave the space empty with more room to settle in after unpacking?   After polishing the desk, I placed a mini album on it, off to one side.   At will, he could pick it up and breeze through countless photos of family, mostly of my sister posing with her kids, family members, and friends. My brother-in-law, Eduardo, spent a week in our home earlier this month marking just shy of a year since my sister passed away.  He still lives in their Chicago home and tries hard to cover up his emptiness but his blue eyes portray a river of sadness.  He misses her like crazy.  I worried that being here with me might cause more grief.  She was my sister, in fact, and we bear similarities.  Oh how he easily speaks of them too!  To my surprise, it turned out to be more posi

No Peace

I feel eerie when I think of last weekend, Mother's Day, and how I received a bouquet of roses that turned into a prophetic message.   My daughter carefully unwrapped the store bought flowers as I filled my vase with water.  She whispered the Peace Rose is her favorite and that's why she chose it for me.  As healthy as the bunch of roses were, we noticed one stem that lost its flower head as soon as we lifted it.  My daughter had an idea.   She carried it from the kitchen to my office and placed the lone Peace rose next to my desktop with hopes the flower would cheer me as I worked in that room.  She positioned the Peace rose on my Jerusalem plaque.    The next day brought a historical event both in Israel and the USA when President Trump moved the American Embassy from Tel Aviv to Jerusalem.   I felt jubilant as I watched the event on my computer screen.   I celebrated Israel’s 70 th birthday from afar and smiled when I viewed the dancing in the str

Will They Bloom Again?

I climbed on the step stool in my kitchen and reached for my bud vase, a whiskey shot glass from Eau Claire, Wisconsin.  Every fourth week in April, the buds on my rose bush appear and each year my husband says the same thing as he presents me with the first rose of the season.  “You’ll have roses by Mother’s Day!” I carefully set the first rose in water on my kitchen island and secretly wonder if those bushes will reach their full potential after winter. He planted the rose bushes decades ago and every spring I’m amazed how the spindly branches transition into plush red roses that drape the front deck of our home.  I’ve yet to face a Mother’s Day without their crimson beauty. Oddly, my roses parallel my motherhood. I often wondered the outcome of raising little girls in my younger years.  I think about the times my confidence waned, or the times I second-guessed myself and the times I thought I could have made better decisions.  The girls blossomed i