Been thinkin'...

about my writing. Been wonderin' if I should write more. Been tryin' to find the courage.

I receive a nudge now and then from different folks, and it causes me to pause and ponder my dreams.

A long time ago, I shared the following excerpt from my writing journal with a dear friend. She was quiet for a bit before she said to me, "Lori, you need to tell stories." She is gone now, but her words have come back to me...gently nudging me.

His blue eyes were similar to the vast Montana sky—clear and endless. The Big Sky Country, as it is aptly nicknamed, is so blue and void of any texture that it renders the artist’s palette useless, as only one shade of clear blue will duplicate that pureness. Despite the apparent clarity, the complexities of life and land had taken their toll on those eyes, though he shared the same blue with his son whose vision was yet to be clouded by reality and the harsh elements of the ranch and life. His eyes held the hope only a young man can have with dreams as vast as the Montana sky, but after all what did dreams hurt? Sometimes it is tempting to share those realities, but is it worth dampening the enthusiasm of youth? No. Better to nurture the dreams and gently hold a hand out hoping that the outcroppings are less cumbersome for the younger generation.

A slow smile crossed his face as the young man beside him aptly jumped out to open the gate and drag it across the road before turning to face his father with a knowing nod.

The younger blue eyes watched the battered truck slowly ease through the fence and roll to a stop patiently as he secured the gate with the rusted wires reinforced with each generation. As he briskly returned to the familiar green door and hopped aboard once more, he was anxious to observe the pasture today, as he and his father silently scanned the hills, valleys, rocks and trees for any changes in the landscape. This was his favorite part. Silence never made him uncomfortable instead it was comforting to not have to be forced to share the words that never really described the feeling anyway. At college, the constant chatter and banter of his roommates sometimes suffocated him.

The lines in the man’s face were relaxed too. He also found comfort in this quiet companionship. Suddenly a hawk swooped down and snatched a little field mouse from the hillside. The eyes of both men immediately stopped on the scene and watched the hawk soar skyward again before continuing their wordless scan of their route. There is a writing conference in February in San Francisco, and I'm thinkin' it may be time to go.

Home Again

Showered with hugs and kisses, I felt very special. My family missed me. I missed them too.

However, I had a wonderful, wonderful weekend with my sister and her husband. I was welcomed with my sister's lasagna--my absolute favorite! Throughout the weekend I enjoyed a quiet lunch along the Ohio River in Newburgh, IN at a darling little Italian bistro, admired the handsome, old homes along the riverfront in Evansville, meandered through the flea market, survived Walmart, curled up on the couch in conversation and even watched a little tv, captured a few photos, browsed in a few stores, discovered how much has changed since I had children...and reluctantly said good-bye yesterday. I hugged my sister tight at the airport...my heart reluctant to leave. I miss my extended family so much! But next time, I will get to squeeze my new little niece. So impatient.

Admittedly, Ron's weekend was far more eventful than mine as he navigated the kids' schedules and even managed an ER visit for Kiahra. She sliced her finger open with the hand blender. The concept makes me queasy...and admittedly I still haven't seen it...I just can't look. However, I reassure myself with the hope she will heal well and quickly.

Nonetheless, I am home. Renewed. Relaxed. Ready for the next trip...

The orange leaves dance in the breeze outside my sister's kitchen window as the morning sun glistens. I seek out opportunities to stand by the window. It reminds me of my woods in Pittsburgh that I miss so much.

I landed safely in Evansville yesterday afternoon. The sleepy little airport sharply contrasts Dallas and San Francisco. I stepped out onto the sidewalk so quickly I was caught off gaurd. I immediately was scanning for the familiar car of my sister just to remember she had bought a new one, but was driving a loaner (long story). I was at a complete loss, so I picked up my phone. Turns out she was in a little blue Aveo which my husband would label a pregnant roller-skate...and the irony that my very pregnant sister was driving it made me smile. The airport was unfamiliar. The car was unfamiliar. The baby belly was unfamiliar. But my sister's beautiful smile was so familiar.

Utterly wonderful to see her. Then she tells me she loves my boots...and by the way did you read your daughter's blog? She is slyly grinning, so I know that somehow she knows I am wearing Kiahra's boots. The answer lies on Tween Sass

This morning, I awoke to a quiet house. I didn't realize how noisy my life is...

Then my sister tells me I need to read Nikela's blog...and I am reminded how noisy my life is :)

Happy Anniversary!

Today is my parent's wedding anniversary. 43 years.

I suspect my father is driving a truck down the road somewhere. My mother is working quietly at her desk. I also suspect their evening will be quiet as the farmhouse fades into the setting sun.

I appreciate their quiet dedication to each other and their family. I am so lucky.

Often, society encourages celebrations and flamboyance to mark special days. Hallmark has built an empire on this notion. With age, I realize that an anniversary really marks another year of living and learning and working hard at a commitment to each other. It isn't always easy. It isn't always fun. It isn't always a celebration. It is quietly persevering through the challenges of living that are inevitably wrought with frustrations and intertwined with joy.

This fall, a new friend was sharing a story with me about some folks in their quiet little Arizona town. The story has stayed in my heart. He is a janitor. She is a wife and mother. Together they raised six children. They lived humbly in their modest home. They carefully provided for the needs of their children. Early in their marriage they agreed to forego presents for each other, choosing instead to spend their money on the necessities. Their children are grown now and a testament to their commitment and hard work.

Upon the approach of their 50th wedding anniversary, the husband quietly came to my friend. He wanted to buy his wife a present for the first time in celebration of their anniversary. He wanted it to be special. He had been carefully saving for months. He thought a special perfume set might be nice, but he was unsure, so he was asking for help. She affirmed his choice and helped select a beautiful perfume set. He presented his surprise gift to his wife on their anniversary. She was so delighted. Later he shared how he watched his wife clear her little dressing table and gently unpack her first gift and proudly display it. Her obvious joy brought him so much happiness.

50 years.

It really is about the little moments. The thought. The gesture. The complete love and devotion.

A Visit

The California sunrise tinges the sky with rose-colored hues against the pale blue. The sliver of the moon still visible. The rare clouds adding texture to the skyline.

Today it will be 80 degrees. Today I am packing my bags. Finally, I depart to visit my sister early, early tomorrow. When I land tomorrow in Indiana, it is forecasted to be 48 degrees.

In a month my sister and her husband will be welcoming their first child. This weekend it will be just the two of us...well, three...but one rides along cozily (and quietly) unaware that she hinders my sister's mobility and comfort :)

As I sit here, trying to recall the last day we spent together...just the two of us...I think it was in Bozeman, Montana. She was looking at wedding dresses. We had lunch at a delightful little restaurant downtown. We sat outside in the sunshine. We laughed. We talked. Just us.

A few years have slipped by since that day.

I don't take these moments for granted. Life is filled with milestones, and we merely pause together in those moments as time pushes us forward. I seldomly remember the details of those moments...like what we had for lunch...but I do remember the feeling. The friendship. The anticipation of my sister's marriage...and the future.

Again I find myself anticipating the arrival of my niece, but I am so grateful I have the opportunity to pause with my sister this weekend...to curl up on the couch with tea and talk...laugh...dream...wonder...live...

My niece...

is adorable.

This morning her mother shared the following with me via text.

"Mom, beep!"

"Beep...Beep...Beep."

(Obviously, I detect "Mom" is distracted...so my darling niece desperately tries again...)

"PLEASE, Mom, Beep!"

This plea was for help to...(are you ready?)...to "snap" the snap on her dress. Beep...snap...it is all the same, right?

Cute? Adorable.

Love you, Jaela!

Texas Toast

The San Francisco Giants won the World Series last night. The city is celebrating!

We lived in Pittsburgh when the Steelers captured another Super Bowl title and the Penguins brought home the Stanley Cup. Now we are in San Francisco watching their baseball team bring home the coveted World Series title. What are the odds?

Perhaps I should place an ad...To increase your city's chance at a championship title recruit the Klinghagens!