Category: Journaling My Days

I journaled for years on paper and I expect to be doing it in some form until my last days. In short summary, I teach mindfulness to parents of kids with challenges; I garden as often and as much as I can in Wisconsin and I am working through the threads of grief six years after my husband’s death. I am very grateful for finding and chasing the joy in this unexpected life.

Falling

IMG_4263I want to capture Autumn and Fall in words.  I start over and over again.  And fall short of my expectations and so don’t post.  And Autumn and Fall move on.  Oh, the metaphors.  How many stories put aside in search of better words?

Half of the trees, maybe more, stand naked. There is a brilliant mix of orange and gold in the background interspersed with faded green and divided by the dark bare limbs of the giants who are the first to retire to their long sleep. There are fewer trees that are seemingly lit from within and I stare hard at those that remain, memorizing the effect.  The days have turned warm again which enhances the sweet smell of decomposing leaves that crinkle under my feet by the back door.  Does anything smell as good as fallen leaves?

And I have a little bit of myself back again.

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Posted on by Suzanne Buchko 3

pain

An old picture from November 2010
An old picture from November 2010

I have been writing.  Lots of crappy, more than the usual self indulgent missives.  Complaints of pain and great bouquets of self pity.  You get the picture.

Enough.

Today, I woke up to great gratitude, however, and wondered if I had something else, better, wiser to say about this latest incursion into this wilderness of pain.

Perhaps.

And I feel wildly, deliciously self indulgent.  Enough so that I can imagine it useful to more than my very singular self.

Pain.  And gratitude.

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Posted on by Suzanne Buchko 3

low & bitchy

IMG_2276Trough
~ Judy Brown ~

There is a trough in waves,
A low spot
Where horizon disappears
And only sky
And water
Are our company.

And there we lose our way
Unless
We rest, knowing the wave will bring us
To its crest again.

There we may drown
If we let fear
Hold us within its grip and shake us
Side to side,
And leave us flailing, torn, disoriented.

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Posted on by Suzanne Buchko 2

Apples and honey

 8:21 a.m. My teen is asleep. Slow Sunday morning with a meeting for me at noon and a session for her with her art teacher. We should both enjoy an early fall afternoon.

40 degrees this morning. Aide memoire that seasonal change is relentless. That last heat wave, the one that coincided with the beginning of school in our unairconditioned schools allowed me to slip back into flip flops and hold onto capris. Julia has worn summer skirts and bare legs for two weeks. But I’ve been shutting windows at night, still determined to keep them open during the day to bring fresh air inside. Windows stay closed for such a long time in Wisconsin. I keep the window by my bedside opened at night almost to freezing but the opening shrinks and I need my down comforter much sooner than if I simply closed it. Julia, always cold, is huddled down like a little bear. We need to change out her bedding today and hope for a few more days of throwing off the blankets. We need to see what can be salvaged of last year’s fall wardrobe after summer’s growth spirt.  Continue reading →

Posted on by Suzanne Buchko 2

happy new year

First day of First Grade
First day of First Grade

First day of school.  Forgot to take a picture.  Other than that, a good send off.  Julia picked her clothes last night, woke up with a minimum of complaints, did morning routine (a week with printed schedules is paying off) and walked into the playground alone.  I hope she made it to the classroom.

I watched from the car.  A moment.  Julia in the middle of the small middle school playground.  She looks around.  She begins to approach one cluster of girls and then another without making it to either.  What is she thinking?  There is still no friend, no one she can be sure of a greeting from.  No one she recognizes as someone she can be sure of.  I know of at least a few.  If I could, I would mold a friend from clay and breathe life into the form for my girl.  However, realistically, if this approach might be considered realistic, Julia is still not a good friend herself.  It is her inability to do more than greet and exchange non sequiturs with someone that keeps her from developing friendships.  My heart goes out to her — I want to keep her spirit brave until she figures out conversation and friendship.  I want her continue to be willing.  I worry (as if worry would do any good) that she will decide that other people are not worth the work of learning how to communicate with them.

I watch from the car.  A moment.  Julia stands in the middle of the school playground.  Alone.

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Posted on by Suzanne Buchko 0

anniversary

imageSetting: San Marco Piazza at 6. Definitely late afternoon and not early evening. We sit on the shady side of the square at one of those impossibly expensive cafes. The sitting charge, usually a euro or two at very nice restaurants, is 6€ here. Julia eating a sundae, gelato, whipped cream, chocolate and bananas. She will finish it, I am sure but this is probably super. It is huge.

I have a tanquerai and tonic with ice. Ice! The waiter brings all this on a silver tray that sits on our small table. There is also a small glass bowl full of potato chips and another with olives. Good inducements to drink more.

As romantic as this could be imagined, there are more tourist families here than couples gazing into each other’s eyes. Pure smaltz and packaged dreams but it is where I am today. Five years ago today. Another anniversary of a living I didn’t know I’d have. The birth day of this life. Another year without David. I could toast myself for making it this far. For observing in Venice, not hiding at home or even surrounding myself with friends. A five piece band strikes up, begin the beguine. Julia sways as if she is dancing. There is still a lot of Frank Sinatra played in cafes here and songs from old Broadway musicals. I don’t feel foolish listening at home to Italian pop from 30 years ago.

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Posted on by Suzanne Buchko 1

selfish

DSCN1887
Travelin’ 2010

When I stop writing for awhile I get . . . a sort of constipation of the spirit.  The creative spirit to be specific.  I don’t grows into I can’t.  And when I finally sit down to tap a few keys, I have both too much to say and nothing at all.

And I feel rather garbled.

Forgive me.  The only way to begin again is to just do it.  So . . .

I have been obsessed with travel plans— leave for Italy in 11 days — and the very long list that I’ve made for myself.  My pre-traveling lists, that I make for almost every trip short or long, could be judged compulsive.  It has all the planning steps, packing steps and what I need to do in the house and for the summer Mindful Circle workshop before I close the door.  I have my goals as to how much to do each day to arrived at the door closing with everything essential and a few good wishes done.  My joy here is crossing off what I have done each day.  Simple compulsive pleasure.  However, a long trip makes for a long list.

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Posted on by Suzanne Buchko 3

mistake

imagesRainy, damp, more March than April and my internet connection is very weak.    My desk is cluttered with unfiled detritus.  I’ve noticed that my couch, the uber comfortable nest of family life, is looking rather shabby.  Bought for another house with a bigger living room, it has always been a bit of an elephant in this living room.  Something to be slightly squeezed around especially when the clothes basket goes downstairs or a big box is delivered.  For a millisecond I wonder if the money that I just spent on airline tickets “should” have gone into some household item—Ach, the driveway!—but the cloud passes very, very quickly.

I bought airline tickets for Italy.

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Posted on by Suzanne Buchko 2

sleep

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The night began so well.  I was exhausted, just wanting to get to bed and sleep.  The day was busy enough, physical needs up to date enough to climb into bed right after tucking Julia in.  I tuned into the next Doc Martin episode — my current favorite television — knowing that I’d be asleep almost before the credits were finished.  I would, a little later, close the laptop, thereby dousing light and turning off media.  Yes, I know, I’ve promised myself to keep media out of the bedroom but I was too tired to even open the book on the bed stand and I’d be asleep very soon anyway.

I was looking forward to a solid eight hours, possibly nine if the stars were in alignment and the prospect of getting back to even keel — I have fallen off ‘keel’ lately, working on just one more egg, indulging in electronics and google searches way too late, even when kept out of the bedroom, and walking around bleary on next days.

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Posted on by Suzanne Buchko 1

journeying

DSCN1887I know I’ve announced this before, at other noticeable stopping points, but once again—ta-da!—I am coming more into myself.

The self that I am coming into?

I am chatting up more wait staff and baristas— this morning at the Target Starbucks, I noticed that Oprah has a chai but not a coffee and we, the barista and I, bantered.

I notice that I am grumpy.  It’s not the grumpy part that is notable but the noticing.

I am feeling oppressed about falling behind, way behind, responding to email and I actually realized that all I have to do is to answer a bunch of emails to feel better.

A code appeared just today on the dashboard of my car and I noticed it and called the folks who service the car.  I remembered that it was not there yesterday and I acted in a timely manner.

I want to buy show tickets for next fall and see touring musicals.

There is also the travel thing.  In the last few years, I have insisted that I wanted to travel far and yet have not done it.  Yes, we did travel to Mexico last summer but I corralled Cheshire and another young friend to go with Julia and I. Cheshire is fluent in Spanish and so was an excellent buffer between me and any semblance of un-touristy Mexico.  We went to a rather touristy part of Mexico.  It was a beach vacation, not the exploration vacations that I most enjoy.  And so, Mexico almost doesn’t count as traveling far.

And now, today, and for this whole week, I’ve begun planning a trip to Italy. Continue reading →

Posted on by Suzanne Buchko 4