Two Poems and a Poem: Ritual One, Day 28

 Two Poems

“What I Know of Country” by Richard Blanco 

“My First Derby Party” by Barbara Kingsolver 

A Poem

Home

by ljkemp

The sun shines bright, I squint at the sky

and consider how far I’ve run

There was a time when anywhere was

better than here. Here was home, 

where nothing happened, nothing except 

the dissolution of family

An empty kitchen with a microwave,

an empty yard with uncut grass

an empty dining room with empty chairs

Even the memories ran off for awhile

they too, needed time to heal

until it was safe to return 

alongside the comfort of new ones

I wondered if that feeling would ever come,

tried to stay away, but home was home.

Italicized lines: 

The opening line is from the Kingsolver poem, the last phrase is from Blanco’s poem.

Two Poems and a Poem: Ritual one, day 27

 Two Poems:

America the Beautiful Again by Richard Blanco

By the Roots by Barbara Kingsolver

A Poem:

Florida Schoolday

by ljkemp

“Be nice to the trees and the plants”

We walked across campus to lunch

everyday a journey from the two-story

add-on at the back  of the perimeter 

A school, at once a relic of the 1950’s,

Florida open-air campus

and a sign of modern, more sinister times

a two story, easier to secure building.

We walked. They dragged their hands

along the sides of the buildings the way

children do. And into the bushes, yanking

leaves, pieces of leaves from the plants

tearing out the hair of the world.

“How would you feel if everyone who

passed by you pulled on your hair?

Be nice to the trees and the plants.”

We are lucky. A few minutes of open air

a time to visit the blue skies, the chirping birds

and the plant life.

Look up, listen. Take a deep breath in.

We are lucky to be alive, to be here in 

Florida during winter.

Every explanation of praise I belted out

until my throat hurt.

Aren’t we lucky?

Italicized words: First italicized line is from the Kingsolver poem, the second is from the Blanco poem.

Two Poems and a Poem: Ritual One, Day 26

 Two Poems:

"My Mother's Last Forty Minutes" by Barbara Kingsolver

"Remembering Boston Strong" by Richard Blanco

Today's poem was written in a form I think I made up a few years ago. I've never seen it anywhere before which is why I think it's my own creation. However, I am uncertain and admit it may be out there somewhere. If it is, I do not claim credit. Anyway, the form is this: Take a line from a piece of poetry or prose, or a song or a favorite quote. Then use each word in order to start a line in your poem. In this particular case, it was not my intention to capture the essence of the original poem or interpret its meaning. I simple chose a line as inspiration to create something completely new. I did not know where I was going with my poem until I was well into writing it.

The line is from Kingsolver's "My Mother's Last Forty Minutes":

May I say that life is filled with instructions we just don't believe we are ever going to need?

A Poem:

Derailed

by ljkemp

May, an in between time. Spring is no longer cool and breezy in the morning and the same again at dusk, but the oppressive heat has not yet arrived.

I miss my classroom days, when this time of year meant a break was near. A time of quiet and rest.

Say what you will about summers off and days that end early.

That those who can't do, teach. You, those who buy into this stupid old trope still, even now.

Life has thrown us on one hell of a ride since last spring, and though the train seems to be slowing,

Is it going to halt abruptly throwing us from the tracks or will it pull into the station smoothly 

Filled with passengers who exchange handshakes, phone numbers and text messages,  even hugs. Glances of kindness and respect

With a new understanding. We are all on the same team. That teaching comes with knowledge and training, but it does not come with 

Instructions. Not for this. Not for how to get a derailed train back on the tracks.

We know how to respond with intervention and differentiation for individual needs,

Just don't expect us to have all the answers to everything all the time.

Don't expect us to create miracles and explain anomalies, and have immediate answers to never-seen-before problems.

Believe us when we tell you it is not as easy as you think.

We will teach them math and reading, science, and history, but not at the expense of their well-being or of our own. Maybe at the expense of our own.

Are you going to concede yet? Admit the school is the heart of the community, not just a place for chalkboards and globes and desks and textbooks.  

Ever really been inside a classroom since you graduated (or didn't)?  If the teachers give up, if you push them all out, you are

Going to need more than just knowledge and rhetoric. You have a lot to learn about what our children need to learn.

To contribute to the world and to humanity, our children need  to learn empathy and compassion and love. For the train to stay on the tracks, we

Need. We need more love.

Two Poems and a Poem: Ritual One, Day 25

 Two Poems:

“Seventeen Funerals” by Richard Blanco 

“Thank You Note for a Quilt” by Barbara Kingsolver 

A Poem:

Not Today

by ljkemp

My selected poem today are about death, one in

tragedy, the other in the passing from one generation

to the next. But today I do not want to. I do not 

want to sit in the sadness of death, to wallow in

writing of time and people of places gone by. My 

eyes blooming open with the light of one more

morning, I want to fall in love with the time on my

hands. Today I want to live.

The sentence in italics is a combined sentence; clause before the comma from Blanco, and the clause after the comma from Kingsolver.

Two Poems and a Poem: Ritual One, Day 23

 Two Poems

“Between (Another Door)” by Richard Blanco 

“Long Division” by Barbara Kingsolver 

A Poem

Alone

by ljkemp

She lay there, her body lifeless

her heart warm and aglow, still.

He felt it, aching like his

but it was still alive,

for now.

He stood back on the other side

of glass, covered in cloth

and latex and the heaviness

of people dying.

His eyes the only way to send messages

please just breathe, 

please don’t leave me.

20 feet away

30 feet away

6 feet multiplied by something,

by eternity. Loving the only way he could love

disinfected, sanitized, distanced

longing to kiss her forehead

touch her cheek, hold her hand,

whisper the words I love you to her ear.

Here, not possible. 

According to the rules you stand alone

and watch her slip away.

Italicized lines: First italicized line is from the Blanco poem, and the second is from the Kingsolver poem.

Two Poems and a Poem: Ritual One, Day 22

 Two Poems

“The Visitation” by Barbara Kingsolver

“Until We Could” by Richard Blanco 

A Poem:

No Words

by ljkemp

Word are not his tools

they are mine.

He speaks with his hands

a gesture, soft and intimate

or quiet and withheld.

He speaks with his eyes

a playful wink, a soulful stare

or a look away.

Our years have taught me

reserve, quiet. Sometimes 

no words say one word 

satisfaction 

frustration

peace

ecstasy

Love

Our eyes become voices

speaking without speaking. 

Italics: Opening line is from the Kingsolver poem; last line is from the Blanco poem.

Two Poems and a Poem: Ritual One, Day 21

 Two Poems

“St. Louis: Prayer Before Dawn” by Richard Blanco 

“Passing Death” by Barbara Kingsolver 

A Poem

Poetry is Not My Favorite Today

by ljkemp

Poetry is not my favorite today as I put the finishing touches 

on a teacher resource for National Poetry Month.

I wake to my own ritual to be faced with sadness

a poem of injustice and inequity

a poem of prayer for what is unfair

in our society, our country

and a poem of death

a mother, presumably a wife,

slipping into darkness, dying

as her family practices life without her

until a tumor takes her away.

I looked for brightness between the lines

meticulously dissecting the lines and words apart 

under a microscope searching or the tiniest particles of joy

a description of those who live in comfort

sleeping past dawn with faces resting tender on pillows

the image of memories like seeds from a melon

squeezed out of a fist until nothing is left

but the sticky sweet cling of living.

The first a comparative description of the haves,

sleeping comfortably in peace and the have nots,

who try to rest uncomfortably under fluorescent lights

on commercial streets or on buses.

The latter a description of cancer 

eating away at a woman’s brain.

I pause.

There seems no joy in these poems

words pouring through pain and heartache.

I pause.

It seems the joy is in the beauty of the words.

Poets who string together eloquent words

opening windows to the world- to their souls; 

though inside there is hurt and death and injustice

and excruciating pain and anger,

the joy is that we have words and art and poetry 

to share the human experience.

Italics: First line is from the Richard Blanco poem; the second is from the Barbara Kingsolver poem.

Two Poems and a Poem: Ritual One, Day 20

Two Poems

“This is How they Come Back to Us” by Barbara Kingsolver

“Poetry Assignment 4: What Do You Miss Most?” by Richard Blanco

A Poem

His Hands

by ljkemp

My beloved’s hands,

not just those that know 

my body’s every curve,

hold mine on our evening walks,

squeeze them to draw out sorrow’s energy.

The ones that change flat tires

on the side of the highway,

meticulously fold five days of uniforms

out of the dryer on Saturday,

construct our mind’s images and ideas

into things, real and functional.

The ones that with great care

break apart the tiniest of twigs,

thoughtfully placing each piece,

carefully arranged kindling on the campfire.

I think of him young with still perfect hands.

The ones that proudly wore a class ring

with a swimmer etched in the side.

The ones that were perfectly calloused

from digging ditches and handling tools.

The ones that were the first to touch me,

in ways I never knew I want to be touched.

The ones that took mine in his 

and made a promise.

The ones that delivered our baby from 

me and held him with tears of joy.

Those vivid and tenderly details rendered,

these are how I will always remember his hands.

Italics:

The first italicized line is from Kingsolver’s poem and the second is from Blanco’s poem.

Two Poems and a Poem: Ritual One, Day 19

Two Poems:

“Easy Lynching on Herndon Avenue” by Richard Blanco 

“Burying Ground” by Barbara Kingsolver 

A Poem:

Sunny and Seventy-five

a haiku by ljkemp

pale morning light

seeps into breezy blue sky

leaves of grass exhale

A note:

This ritual is becoming increasingly difficult (as I expected it would). There was a section of the Kingsolver book that becoming unenjoyable for me, so I skipped over into the next section. Today’s poems were particularly solemn- both about death. Blanco’s was particularly horrifying. I chose instead to pull two lines, one from each, about the natural elements in the description. I reimagined them into a bit of joy on a perfect winter’s day in Florida. The lines:

From Blanco: “Only pale morning light seeping into blue sky...”

From Kingsolver: “Leaves of grass exhaling...”

Two Poems and a Poem: Ritual 1, Day 17

 Two Poems:

“November Eyes” by Richard Blanco

“On the Piazza” by Barbara Kingsolver

A Poem:

Here

by ljkemp

Here I am

toes in the sand

sun on my shoulders

breeze through my loose tendrils

saline washes my sinuses 

and my sorrows; here there 

is always promise

an untouched island in the 

churning human torrent

my gaze fixed ahead

to the vast and seemingly 

infinite deep blue

here I question everyone,

everything, even the sun

not with heartache

with inquiry and possibility

with lowered shoulders 

and raised chin

warm with golden glow

here there is promise.

Italics: The first italicized line is from the Kingsolver poem, the second is from the Blanco poem.

Two Poems and a Poem: Ritual 1, Day 16

 Two Poems:

“The Roman Circus” by Barbara Kingsolver 

“Imaginary Exile” by Richard Blanco 

A Poem:

Inevitable Unimaginable

by ljkemp

Dawn breaks my window and dares me 

to write a poem brave enough to imagine

the last day I will ever hear her voice 

wash over my ears into my heart 

through my soul, the final recording

to the DVR of my conscious mind

and then gone forever-

a poem recreating the playful animated way 

she spoke Hi, Babycakes! or I love you very much 

and then she would say my full name,

first, middle, maiden, and married strung

altogether as though it was one. Or the

verbal issuance of “a big fat juicy kiss

from Grammy” to me and my husband

and especially my son.

a poem that captures the last time he

raised a glass in his hand and strung

together a sentimental and patriarchal

toast about family and spending time 

together. Or that recalls the last text he 

sent, asking me what I think about...

Or the last time I giggled when his text, 

written like a letter was signed , ❤ Pops.

a poem ending as I try to hold on to 

their hands, and feel their fingers slipping

away from mine and into the hands of G-d

toward eternal light, as I fall to the ground

behind them in heartache unparalleled 

in civilized human experience.

Italics: The opening line is from Blanco’s poem, which also served as mentor for the form. The final line is from the Kingsolver poem.

Two Poems and a Poem: Ritual One, Day 15

 Two Poems:

"American Wandersong" by Richard Blanco

"Pelligrinaggio" by Barbara Kingsolver

A Poem:

One Day

by ljkemp

This job, my career. I am grateful,

but restless, not about whether to stay

or where to go next, but where to go

away. It is half-past something I can't

stand one more minute of today, and

my mind is far from here.

A luxury afforded to me by the very 

job that on this day bores me.

I am in the woods among the trees

and the birds and the wind, the crackling fire.

I am at the shore with the waves and the saline

breeze, my mind hovering with the seagulls

screeching questions in the wind. I hear

them and today I have no answers.

Italics: The first italicized line is from Kingsolver's poem, and the second one is from Blanco's.

Two Poems and a Poem: Ritual One, Day 14

 Two Poems:

“How to Be Hopeful” by Barbara Kingsolver

“Using Country in a Sentence” by Richard Blanco 

A Poem:

Persistence

by ljkemp

Sometimes you just have to stand 

on an incline where things look possible.

Nowhere to go but up. Or out. Or over.

One foot in front of the other,

the tread of your hikers gripping

the ground below. Dig. Deep from

inside, down into the ground

willing yourself, pulling up 

to the morning sunrise out through

the heat of the day into dusk and

into the evening sunset. Until,

alas you look up to the nighttime sky

where stars turning like a kaleidoscope

above you, complete the rotation 

of another day.

Italics: The opening line is from Kingsolver’s poem, the italics in the final line are from Blanco’s poem.

Two Poems and a Poem: Ritual One, Day 13

 Two Poems:

“El Americano in the Mirror” by Richard Blanco

“How to Love Your Neighbor” by Barbara Kingsolver 

A Poem:

Beautifully Eccentric

by ljkemp

Maybe you don’t remember, or don’t want to, or

maybe, like me, you’ve never been able to forget.

Of the latter would mean you have forgiveness in

your heart. For now you share with me (and the world)

photos of your daughter, the image of you when we

were just this young, jumping off the swings of the

Baker Hill playground up through the air landing

unsoftly in the Colosseum, middle school gladiators

fighting for our lives, our identities, for our positions.

Did you feel I abandoned you? When I turned my back

on my true friend. Left you alone to make kitchen 

concoctions, to dance solo to Thriller in front of MTV

while in the bathroom I learned to apply blue eyeliner

inside my lids and mascara to match. Why didn’t you 

try harder to hold on? Or maybe you did. Maybe you 

let out more rope and instead of grabbing it, I let it

go. Let you go.

Why did I trade ice skating in socks on hard wood floors

for EGs and Reeboks? I wish I had emulated your

eccentricity and your fashion flair instead of begging

for overpriced designer jeans and a Benetton rugby. Why

was it so easy for you to not fit in? Maybe it wasn’t.

Maybe you weren’t meant to. Maybe you had a stronger

sense of who you were. Wise beyond your years with less

fear or more fear and more courage. You were so good in

so many ways. Able to announce your rebel kindness in 

letters much too loud on the back of your jacket, with pants

in colors much too bright to blend in. You were perfect in

every way, and I still turned in the other direction.

Italics:

The opening line is from Blanco’s poem and the later italicized line is from Kingsolver’s poem. Blanco’s poem also served as a mentor poem.

Two Poems and a Poem : Ritual One, Day 12

 Two Poems:

“How to Knit a Sweater (A Realist’s Prayer)” by Barbara Kingsolver 

“My Father in English” by Richard Blanco

A Poem:

Love & Family

by ljkemp

Uncomfortable. That’s putting it mildly. How anyone can be comfortable with death

will forever be beyond my understanding. Don’t tell me to have faith. I believe in G-d;

my faith does not cancel out my fear of everything else. As I hold my loved ones 

this day in my thoughts, we drive slowly down the path to my grandparents’ grave, 

they lay side by side. My mother squats down and places our four stones, one each for us 

and one each for them. “Look who I brought with me today... it’s Laurie.” She turned to me 

then and told me when she dies she wants her ashes spread over them. And I cried. 

And I tried to calculate in my head how long they have been gone. He, my grandfather, 

died the year before I got married. Now celebrating our 25th, that means it’s been 26 years. 

I swallow back more tears. My son, now 22, never got to meet him. And I think how 

they would have loved each other so. She, my grandmother, died when my son was 5. 

Five from 22 is 17. She’s been gone so long. Both of them have, their love and marriage 

a beacon. They shared more years together than I have yet lived. Sixty-two years interrupted 

only by cancer. It took him before he could bless our wedding challah, before he could 

witness our vows. Yet, the word I most learned to love and know him through was love. 

Or family. I think love. I think family. Yes, I learned to love and know him through these words. 

Love and Family.

Italics: First italicized line was from Kingsolver’s poem, the second was from Blanco’s poem.

Two Poems and a Poem: Ritual One, Day 11

 Two Poems:

“Mother Country” by Richard Blanco

“How to be Married” by Barbara Kingsolver

A Poem:

87- 89- 96- 25

by ljkemp

One last deep breath of familiar air,

and just like that we said goodbye

the only home I had known my

whole short unlived life.

The car doors clapped closed,

and we fled never to breathe that 

same air again.

Never saw the clouds 

closing like curtains behind us

I never looked back

butterflies and bees in my belly.

The rest of my life was waiting for me

there, patiently

and I never even knew it.

Don’t rule out surprising possibilities.

the idea is just magical,

surprising possibilities.

Italics:

The first two italicized lines are from Blanco and the last is from Kingsolver.

Two Poems and a Poem: Ritual One, Day 10

 Two *Three Poems:

“How to Get a Divorce” by Barbara Kingsolver

“What We Didn’t Know About Cuba” by Richard Blanco

“Matters of the Sea” by Richard Blanco

A Poem:

Same Sky

by ljkemp

Sacrifice for love is a cozy hearth.

Home is not where the heart is,

not now as our loved ones are strewn

about the state, the country, 

down the street and out of reach

longing for touch-a hug, cheek-to-cheek

a meeting of the eyes, face to face,

a warm hand gently placed one over

another, sitting beside each other. 

Listen again to the echo of your sister in the 

kitchen scrambling eggs, your mother 

leaning into her book, turning the pages.

Outside we walk under the same sky

satisfied but not, with a phone to the ear,

gazing into the lucid blues of our shared horizon

breathe together, heal together so that  

we may be together again one day, soon.

Italics:

The first italicized line is from the Kingsolver poem, the additional italics are from the Blanco poem.

*Edit January 15, 2021: I realized while returning to the Blanco book the next day, I had actually read two of his poems unintentionally. I referred back to what I thought was the original poem to grab a line I couldn’t remember, and it seems I was drawn into the next poem because I actually pulled lines from the next one. This entry is actually 3 poems and a poem. Lines from Blanco’s poem “Matters of the Sea” also appear in the “one poem.”

Two Poems and a Poem: Ritual One, Day 9

 Note: I didn’t skip day 9, I just chose not publish.

Two Poems: 

“Island Body” by Richard Blanco

“How to Lose That Stubborn Weight” by Barbara Kingsolver 

A Poem:

Home

by ljkemp

Those tiny little feet and that baby button nose

kiss what you can

That smooth and blemish-free skin, still

untouched by the harsh worldly air

and his soft round keppie with feathery new hair

kiss what you can

Soon he will feel forced to leave home

but home never leaves us.

kiss what you can 

and he will carry those kisses 

down the street, across town, over

state lines and over the sea. Always.

kiss what you can

Wherever the world spins us, home

Remains the island that remains in us.

Italics: 

The repeating line kiss what you can is from the Kingsolver poem. The rest of the italics are from Blanco.

Two Poems and a Poem: Ritual One, Day 7

 Two Poems:

“Letter From Yi Cheung” by Richard Blanco

“How to Survive This” by Barbara Kingsolver

A Poem:

Thoughts of You

by ljkemp

The unanswered question of parents,

all of us as we marvel at our kin

across dinner tables,

in the passenger seats, of our cars,

next to us standing eye to eye

as we speak to them grown before us.

How has time passed so quickly,

the earth revolved so many times

spinning you into a complete human?

Nothing can stop our sun, our moon,

our tides and seasons, nor what 

I have dreamed in you,

love and happiness and health

peace and love, fulfillment

kindness, success, love and love.

Remind me again the day will come

when I look back amazed at the waste

of worry salt.

Remind me too thoughts of you,

hopes and dreams peace and love

worries even, 

will never be thoughts wasted.

Italics: The first italicized sentence is from Blanco’s poem, the second is from Kingsolver’s poem.

Two Poems and a Poem: Ritual One, Day 6

 Two Poems:

“How to Give Thanks for a Broken Leg” by Barbara Kingsolver

“Staring at Aspens: A History Lesson” by Richard Blanco

A Poem:

Listen to the wind breathing 

through the branches still alive with the story.

Concede your debt to life’s grammar, even

as it nailed you in one fell stroke

from subject to object.

Nature to cypress tree, slough 

blue heron, mangrove, river

estuary, roseate spoonbill, tree crab

alligator flag, slash pine, anhinga.  

Listen to the wind through the trees,

still alive with the story of life before

the conquering.

Italics: First sentence in italics is from the Blanco poem; the second is from the Kingsolver poem.

Interlude Ritual: The Year in Review

The list of end-of-year rituals is nearly as long as the year itself. I have already made clear how I feel about resolutions, and declared I will have none. But I got an email with what I think is a cool idea, specifically for this year. I signed up for some photo walk resources with Lizzie Larock sometime early in the pandemic. I continue to get her emails, with encouragement about creativity and mindfulness. 

Today, Lizzie wisely reminded us as we bid good riddance to 2020 in all its shittiness (my word, not hers), there are likely some good or even great things we have forgotten about. She shared some of the science and psychology on why our brains tend to remain stuck on the negative stuff. But in a nutshell, she explains how we tend to summarize the year by the “peak-end” phenomenon. This means, we mostly recall the peak experience of the year (good or bad), and the end experience of the year (good or bad).

Lizzie’s recommendation to counteract the peak-end “cognitive trap” as she called it? Choose 7 photos, using the prompts as I did below, that shaped your year. Then write about them for 5 minutes total. Great idea, no pressure to write anything earth-shattering. Here’s what I got for ya... give it a try if you like and tag @Lizzielarock if you do.

1. A photo of a highlight of 2020

I knew right where I was going with this one. It was an amazing trip quite literally 2 weeks before the world shut down. I have enough pics for a photo album, but selected this one because we planned the whole trip around the Tesla concert. It was absolutely fantastic!

Dave Rude & Frank Hannon- Tesla concert at The Saenger Theater in Pensacola, Florida (2-14-20)

2. A photo of a meaningful moment

It was sometimes hard to find meaningful moments in this year, as I went from traveling across the country for work two times a month to working at home in my office everyday. That said, I was grateful my employment was unaffected otherwise, as well, my husband’s and my son’s jobs were not affected. For this we felt very lucky. Scrolling through my photos I found this gem from October. In between stops during his workday, my son called randomly and asked if I would like to eat lunch together. That’s what we did. I called it in, he picked it up, and we sat for a rare and true lunch break. Here he is sitting at my table. It made me feel happy the whole rest of the day. I still remember!

3. A photo of a moment with your loved ones

The photo I chose first for this is not the one that appears below. I have this adorable picture of my three nieces, 2 years, 4 years, and 6 years-old. I was staying at my dad’s condo on the beach for a week and they came to have a “sleepover” with my sister-in-law. The photo is of the three of them playing in the sand, care free on the wide open beach. Their giggles and their energy were delightful. My sister-in-law does not post photos of her girls on any social media or anywhere public, so I left it out and instead opted for a pic of my husband and me, from that same trip to Pensacola (in #1). We were standing up on a boardwalk tower looking at our shadow cast down below. I love this pic because it looked like we were in our Jeep Wrangler, which sadly we do not have anymore. We don’t have a whole lot of photos with loved ones from this year, but he’s always on the top of my “loved ones” list and my son is already pictured :)

4. A photo of something new you tried this year

The subject of this photo was easy, it was just a matter of selecting one to represent the “new” thing we tried this year. My husband and I bought a van and we’re in the process of converting it to a camper van. This is a photo of our dashboard as we pulled out for our first trip. At this point we had only installed floor insulation and vinyl panel flooring (which looks great). We threw a mattress on the floor and tossed in some of our camping gear, and we were on our way. More to come for sure in 2021!

5. A photo that makes me proud

This pic represents me at the peak of a health journey. No processed foods, low grains and no added sugar, and I was biking regularly. I had just come in from a long challenging ride. I appreciate how my face and skin look in this photo, and how proud I was and continue to be about taking new perspective on my overall wellness, rather than just weight loss. In fact, it’s a reminder the holidays are over, and it’s time to recalibrate.

6. A photo that makes me feel connected

Another easy one to pull up right away. This was the #writeout in October, when I met up with some of my writing buddies at a local state park. We wrote together, walked and talked, and ended the day with a really nice campfire and s’mores, and each of us shared a piece of writing. It was wonderful and we were definitely connected... to one another and to the natural world. Planning again for next year, for sure.

7. A photo that just makes me smile

Lizzie reminded us not to worry about the “best” pics and to focus on what they represent. Good advice, because I am actually sharing here a photo I would most definitely NOT describe as flattering, but man it sure does make me smile. Even laugh out loud! Last February, again about a month before the chaos of COVID ensued, my husband and I went to Universal Islands of Adventure with my best friend and her husband. We always have such a good time together, and this trip has a longer story than is interesting to anyone else. Suffice to say it replaced our annual trip together to the EPCOT Food and Wine Festival. Universal doesn’t compare, but we had fun anyway. Here’s a funny pic of Christine and me being silly in the Seussland store. Good times.

This was fun, for sure. It’s helpful to look back on the year and seek out the good times. The year is new, but it doesn’t mean magically everything will be better. Reminders to look for the joy wherever we can found it will likely serve us well, this year and always. Happy New Year!