Creative November Challenge Day #15: Past imperfect

I was too tired to write when I got home from work last night. Four day weeks often feel hard because I end up trying to cram five days' worth work into them, and I headed home later than usual because of a late afternoon meeting. Fortunately, I had my camera with me so I was at least able to capture a few image.

I prefer the colours and composition of the image above, but the image below is the more evocative for me. I took it while walking from my meeting to the ferry. Normally, I prefer to walk outside along the waterfront boardwalk, but it was cold and windy enough that I opted to take the pedway that connects Purdy's Wharf to the Marriott Hotel, then make my way through the hotel to Historic Properties instead.

It amazes me how memories come flooding back when I visit places I haven't been in awhile. The Marriott is such a place. Over the years, I've attended numerous conferences and special events there, including a memorable black tie fundraising dinner as the guest of an old friend, but I rarely have reason to go there now. Walking through the foyer last night, I found myself remembering that dinner and how much fun I had. I so enjoyed getting dressed up, chatting with our fellow attendees, and going dancing after. The memory still makes me smile, though that particular friendship hasn't withstood the test of time.

It's interesting to think about which memories get stored and why. There was nothing especially remarkable about that dinner - other than that I attended it with a friend who's no longer a friend. How can I have almost no memories of some people and events and such poignant memories of others? Why it is so challenging to recall the details of a deceased loved one's face, yet so difficult to erase memories I'd as soon forget?

I think I'd like the power to edit my memories - to decide which to preserve and for how long. My perceptions of the past would be no less imperfect, of course, but at least they'd be imperfect in ways of my choosing.

Celebrating All Hallow's Eve

Like many people, I'll be rushing home early from work tonight to prepare for the trick-or-treaters who will be ringing our bell from 5:00 on.

Though I haven't any children of my own, I always enjoy Hallowe'en. When my sisters and I were small, the day was magical. Even now, if I close my eyes and think back, I can hear the sound of children screeching with fear and delight as they run from house to house, smell the scent of dry leaves crunching underfoot, and taste the rich hot chocolate offered by an elderly neighbour. The night always felt so safe and so dangerous at the same time. Safe because we were well-loved children living in a close-knit caring community. Dangerous because oft-repeated stories of razor blades in apples and knife-wielding boogie men filled us with fear.

Much as I enjoy Hallowe'en, I've often wished it was more like Mexico's Day of the Dead, when families take time from their normal routines to remember and celebrate loved ones who've passed away. It strikes me the celebration must make death and dying feel more normal and less final somehow - one more transition in the cycle of life with bonds of love remaining to keep the departed close in spirit.

After we've said goodnight to the last of the trick-or-treaters this evening, I plan to pour a glass of wine, light a candle then spend some quiet time remembering family and friends who've gone before me, wishing them well on their journeys and praying we meet again one day - in my dreams, if no place else.

Happy All Hallow's Eve!

Don't forget to check back here tomorrow for the first installment of my Creative November Challenge.

Lonely, lazy days

I managed to get myself out of bed this morning in time to go for a 5k run before work but I can't say it felt good. My body was achy and sore after so many weeks of relative inactivity. Don't get me wrong, I've been running occasionally (1-2 times per week), walking a fair bit and doing some gardening. But I've not done any serious training in nearly ten weeks and my body is feeling it. The next few weeks will be busy at home and at work but I need to find more time for running if I'm going to be ready for Rum Runners Relay on September 27th.

Unfortunately, everything's feeling harder these days because I'm missing Her Majesty so much. She was a huge part of my life. From the time I woke up in the morning until I crashed at night, she was there - demanding food and snuggles, lying on any clothes I dropped on the bed or in a chair, settling into my suitcase when she caught me packing, "talking" about whatever was on her mind. I see her shadow from the corner of my eye dozens of times a day, and some part of me still thinks she's in the country with Husband and will be home in a few days.

I know that letting go of people we love deeply is one of life's toughest challenges. I've dealt with many such losses over the past few years and it never seems to get easier. I may go weeks at a time thinking I'm finally over it when something happens to remind me of the person who's missing and the grief and pain come flooding back. The same is true when I remember that Ranee now lies buried in our garden in the box Husband built for her.

I've been struck this week by how some people totally understand how I feel about Ranee's death, while others have no clue whatsoever. For the latter, I suspect pets are just "things" - to be owned and enjoyed for so long as they're convenient. But that wasn't how I thought of Ranee. To me, she was a constant companion who loved unconditionally and always wanted to spend time with me, however grumpy or upset I might be. It isn't hyperbole to say that she tethered me to life on my darkest days - through the challenges of law school and my early legal career, the times when Husband and I were on the verge of separation, difficult moves, professional disappointments, family issues, and lost friendships. No one - not even Husband - has been the guardian of so many confidences. So - yes - I miss her. The house feels desperately empty without her small but mighty presence. I know it will get easier in the months ahead but I still feel weighed down by grief and loneliness whenever I think of her.

Fortunately, when I finally went running this morning, I was reminded that, although it's sometimes hard to get myself out the door, running is one of the best things for dealing with sadness. It reminds me that, despite everything, there's a big beautiful world out there - where birds sing, children laugh, and light bounces off the surface of the lake - and I'm fortunate to be fit and healthy enough to enjoy it. In time, I hope that it's my happy memories of lost friends I will recall rather than the grief of losing them.

Birthday reflections: a very special birthday in a very special place

I'm celebrating the big 5-oh this weekend so I find myself thinking back over my half century of life to other memorable birthdays - where I was, who I was with, and what I imagined for myself at that point in my life.  There is one that come vividly to mind.

It was 1973 and I was turning 11 years old. I had a pen pal, the daughter of close friends of my parents, who lived in Corner Brook, Newfoundland.  Pat and I had known one another since we were babies - literally. Born just two days apart, we'd played together whenever our parents could manage visits. In our first photo together - I think we're about two and a half - she looks like a sweet little girl while I look like a boy - still almost entirely bald, which is ironic given all the hair I have now.

Anyway, in 1973, as a special treat Mom and Dad decided to take me to Newfoundland to spend my birthday with Pat. Keep in mind that this was 39 years ago when flying was still something of a luxury - every flight an adventure. To that point in my life, I'd never been on an airplane so it was with considerable trepidation and excitement that I boarded my first Eastern Provincial Airways flight to Deer Lake, Newfoundland.

I don't remember what time our flight left but it was late by the time we were in the air over Deer Lake and a fierce winter storm was raging. We could feel the plane descending but saw nothing but darkness beyond the swirling snow - no lights and certainly no runway. I didn't know enough to worry but could feel the tension in the air as the plane continued its approach. Looking back, it's a testament to the pilot's skills that we arrived safely that night. I suppose he must have had something to guide him as he brought the plane down, but we passengers saw nothing until we were on the ground and taxiing towards the terminal.

Pat and her family met us inside and loaded us into the family car for the 30 mile drive to their home in Corner Brook through the storm that continued to rage.

I don't remember a great deal about our visit after that. I know we laughed a lot and that Pat's mom cooked homemade macaroni and cheese which I'd never tasted. (We ate Kraft dinner at our house - which was not at all the same thing.)

The highlight of the visit for me came the night of our birthday supper. After we cut the beautiful pink frosted cake, Pat's mother presented us with matching silver charm bracelets. Each bracelet held a dainty "happy birthday" charm engraved with "1973" to mark the occasion.  Mine also held the small figure of a Newfoundland dog. I cherished that bracelet and wore it often until it was stolen from my apartment more than twenty years later.

That trip to Newfoundland was the beginning of my life-long love of adventure and travel, as well as my fascination with the beautiful island of Newfoundland.  In the 39 years since, I've literally travelled "around the world" visiting places I couldn't have imagined existed when I was 11 - the highlands of Papua New Guinea, the massive Salar de Uyuni of Bolivia, the peaceful temples of Ubud.  I've also come to know the people and culture of Newfoundland well  - through its literature, music, theatre and my many friends who come from there.

Thanks Mom and Dad for making my 11th birthday such a special occasion. It's wonderful having great memories of my first big adventure to take with me into the second half of my life. :-)

Friendships lost and found

I had a strange dream last night. I was in conversation via teleconference with an old friend and a young person I didn't recognize. The three of us were in different locations discussing some deeply technological and philosophical book. The dream made me sad because my friend and I had a falling out some time ago and I doubt we'll talk together like that anytime soon - although I suppose one never knows for sure. 

Running lessons: Remembering other times and places

Running in familiar places is comforting at this stage of my life. I like knowing what to look for just around the next bend - a favourite wooded grove, an well-designed garden, or the friendly face of a dog-walking neighbour. There are times, however, when the memories that go with running in such places are also unsettling.

My long run last weekend was a case in point. Most of my 24km route was along the trails that line the LaHave River. Though my family has been in the community for more than 30 years, I "lived away" much of that time so the trails are relatively new to me and I'm just getting acquainted with them now that my husband and I have a home nearby.

The last 4 to 5kms of my run were a different story. I turned away from the river and headed into town, runnning by landmarks that reminded me of the many times I stayed with the family between college semesters or during summer and Christmas vacations.