A Father is…

A father is a cushion to lay my head,

when things seem dark and dreary;

A father carries me up to bed,

when I’ve grown very weary.

 

A father reads me a bedtime story,

and hugs me when I’m scared;

a father is one who is by my side,

and who always seems to care.

 

He is there to close my window,

and to sing an old Irish tune;

he is there to let me know,

that I am his stars and moon.

 

 

A father lives, a father gives,

me all the love he possibly can;

he is silly, he is my joy

he is my favorite man.

 

A father is there to life me up

each time I inevitably fall;

A father rushes into the room,

each time his name I call.

 

A father is the one I love,

a father is my best friend;

he will always be in my heart,

on that he can depend.

 

So thank you sweet darling Dad,

for all you’ve done for me;

my love for you is greater than,

all the stars in the sky you see.

 

Poetologie ❤

 

 

An Open Thank You Letter To Mick Jagger

Mr. Jagger,

I’ve just read the news of Gregg Allman’s death. He was 69 years old. I’m pretty sure you knew him, especially through your association with Chuck Leavell, so I’d like to say that I’m sorry for your loss.

His passing made me immediately think of you. Though you are my favorite musician/performer of all time, I have never written you a fan letter to let you know how much you and your music has meant to me.

I truly believe that if someone has affected your life in a positive way or has meant something to you, that you should always let them know. Life is too short to hold in our feelings or praise. Hearing of the passing of your good friend David Bowie, of Glenn Frey and of Chris Cornell has made this task more urgent. I wouldn’t want to ever regret not telling you how I feel, I would never want you to wonder if you ever truly made a difference in a fan’s life.

I’m here to tell you that you have.

I have no connection to you other than through your music. I am not your greatest fan. I have never met you. I have only seen The Rolling Stones tour twice, due to budget constraints and then illness. But for 47 years your music has been a constant in my life. It has been a warm blanket when my life was painted black. It has seen me through tough high school years, wild times at college, divorce, marriage, miscarriages, birth and chronic illness. It is the one thing I have always been able to count on, it is the soundtrack of my life.

Your soulful voice and lyrics, whether from The Stones or your solo work, is as real as it gets. It’s also as good as it gets. Life is not a top 40 dance-able track. It takes us to many dark places, and through many difficult winding paths. From Staten Island, New York to sweet Virginia, you have laid the foundation and follow me wherever I go.

I am lucky to not be waiting on a friend anymore, for I have found a great partner in my husband. His thick wispy longish brown hair, slender figure, and beautiful blue eyes are reminiscent of you, my first man crush.

I can always hear your voice echo in the distance, from the realization that wild horses couldn’t drag me away from my one true love, to the joy of my children’s birth, to sitting and watching life’s tragedies as tears go by. Your music has played through it all.

Whenever I succeeded, or whenever I fell – you were always there. From eight-tracks, to albums, to CD’s, to Pandora, you help comfort and lift me up like no other performer. When I walk in Central Park, to when I seem like I’m 2000 Light Years from Home due to my persistent anxiety, you remain my companion. You help me drift away and get lost in a sea of melodies that soothe my often aching body and soul.

Though I know that you will probably never see this letter, it makes me feel good to write it. I think that we should all do good things and thank many people with no expectations. Some girls really know you, some girls really love you, this girl really appreciates you and the way your music makes me feel. Joyful, unburdened, free, passionate and alive. I will always be a wild teenager when I hear Start Me Up, tell no lies when I walk through a field of Dandelions, and when time is not on my side, I will sit and watch my children doing all the things I used to do with a smile.

Seeing you and The Stones was and always will be one of my favorite memories. I will never forget the anticipation I felt as we drove from Plattsburgh, NY to Shea Stadium back in 89′. I will never forget the butterflies I felt as you approached the stage. I will never forget the adrenaline I felt as your face was projected on the big stadium screens. I will never forget the happiness I felt hearing you sing live.

You will never be just a memory to me. You will always be a talented man who enhanced my life, and made me realize my love of music. Your voice and songs will always be a part of me, and I hope a part of my children.

I want you to know how much you have meant to me, how much you still mean to me. You have helped me get through many tough times, you helped me dance in the street.

I hope that you live many more happy years just like your father Joe. I hope that you are surrounded by the love of your beautiful children, and that you never run out of time to keep showing them how much you care.

Thank you from the bottom of my heart for all you have given to me and to the world.

Thank you for helping me realize that though God may not have given me everything I want, he gave me everything I need.

Sincerely,

Kathy, a girl with a mind and a blog of her own

The Messiness of Life

This morning while I was cooking bacon, I heard my son shout “Mama, I wiped my own hiney!” This immediately set off alarm bells, and sent me into panic mode, because I haven’t finished training my son how to do this task. Due to years of battling life-threatening illnesses, I am just now teaching him this skill that he should have mastered years ago.

I left the comfort of the kitchen, where the aroma of bacon, and the sounds of Stevie Nicks filled the air. I entered the bathroom where a landslide of shit was everywhere!

I didn’t know where to start. My son held up his poop ridden hands and proudly smiled and said “I did it all by myself.” The half of me that’s in surgical menopause wanted to yell “why didn’t you call me to help you?” The other half of me wanted to burst out laughing. I settled for somewhere in the middle.

As I was cleaning him and the bathroom, I thought life sure is messy.

When you have children you face years of cleaning up poop, puke and pee. It doesn’t end after the toddler years, for many stomach viruses and bouts of the flu await. There are many untidy rooms, dirty dishes, and piles of laundry to contend with.

When you are pregnant no one tells you this. No one tells you that you will spend countless hours scrubbing stains, tiles and tushes. You will perform many thankless tasks and sometimes feel really pissed off about it, and that’s okay. You have permission to be angry, and to commiserate with your friends.

I realized as I was sanitizing poop kingdom that I was truly blessed. I have two wonderful kids to clean up after. Kids who come to me when they need help and tender loving care. Kids whose eyes light up when they see me. Kids who look up to me, and who depend upon me to teach them the skills necessary to succeed in life. Kids whom I adore, poop and all.

When I was finished with the purging of the poop, I replayed ‘Landslide.’ I listened to Stevie sing ‘you climb a mountain, and you turn around.’

I think of how I will clean a mountain of my children’s filth and then turn around- and someday it will all be gone.

My kids will move out of my house and move on. They will take their messes, and my heart with them.

And I will be left reminiscing, and longing for the days of poop, puke and pee for the rest of my life.

Kathy ❤

Poetologie

Nothing’s Gonna Change Our World…Unless We Do

‘I read the news today…oh boy’ – Manchester looks like its been at war.  ‘A crowd of people stood and stared,’ they’d seen terrorism before. Beatles lyrics are currently racing around my head, music is my comfort today.

Twenty-two people killed, including children as young as eight years old. More than fifty injured. The distressing news just keeps coming. It’s getting so hard to hide my sadness and tears from my children.

How do I protect them from the news? How do I protect them from this increasingly dangerous world?

Images of the Newtown tragedy flash through my brain, as I see a mother cry for her missing daughter. People/children were once again going about their day. People/children were once again murdered.

With no warning. With no reason. With no emotion.

They are now gone. Their families are still trying to find them or find out if they are among the victims. Their families all have our sympathy, our thoughts, and our hearts. We hug our own children safe in the knowledge that they are okay today.

But what about tomorrow?

What new tragedies await all of us?

Today a bridge of pain connects us to Manchester, just like many bridges before. This pain seems unending in recent years. This pain is heartbreaking.

I wish it would stop.

I tell my anxious daughter a few details of the bombing, because I know that she will find out about it at school. I want her to hear my words first. I want her to see my face when I say this is a horrible tragedy, but this is far away, it will not directly affect you.

I never spoke to her about how I was in New York City on 9/11. How I walked for miles among traumatized ashen people. I never told her that her Aunt lost her best friend in the bombing of Pan Am 103, and worked in Tower One of the World Trade Center. I never told her how close to home tragedy has struck. But I have said those words of comfort to her before, about Newtown and a few other tragedies, because I needed to calm her fears.

My words which usually speak passionate truths were carefully edited, carefully cooled down to help her deal with the news. To help her deal with the fact that the safe little world in which she currently exists is shrinking. With each bomb blast, shooting or death from cold hands she will be unwound. Her idea of safety is slowly being liquidated to pay off the debt of her survival. Her artistic brush is forced to paint a picture of a world in frequent mourning, over mornings such as these.

When I was younger I frequently watched the news with my mom. I am not able to do this with my daughter, for it is too often filled with tragic headlines and scary events.

So instead I shield her from as much devastation as I can, surround her with love and comfortable things, and pray she will gain the strength to get through such difficult times.

I let her see me write blogs and poetry often, I tell her that getting out our emotions in a positive way is a blessing and a necessity. She hears the tap tap of the keyboard and the click click of the mouse as I pour out my feelings. I hope she always remembers these sounds. The sounds of subsistence, the sounds that help me get through my toughest times.

I am glad that she has her art to ease her mind. I hope that it always does. I hope that the stroke of her paintbrush can help her survive, thrive and put some color into this often gloomy world.

I often tell her that we should always help others when we are able to. That so many people need assistance, and that there is nothing wrong with asking for it. I tell her that it’s okay to pause her world in order to help someone in need.

After tragedies I feel helpless, sorrowful and weak. I wonder what kind of world we are leaving our children. But watching the kindness of strangers, bystanders and everyday heroes always lifts me up. These people make it possible to see the light in the darkness, the way through the pain.

I want to be one of these people. I am trying to teach my children to be like these people. The light-bringers, the change-makers, the bastions of hope. People who see others as equals and worthy of compassion. People who feel it is our duty as citizens to help lift others up, because they know we will all fall down at some point in our lives.

Manchester needs us now. The world needs us now. We must take a long look in the mirror of truth, and put an end to our apathy. I have been looking in this mirror for years, I am ready to make a difference. I realize that it all starts with me.

And as the tears flow from the sights and sounds of a city that’s an hours train ride from Liverpool, I know that nothing’s gonna change our world – unless we do.

Kathy ❤

Poetologie

 

A Letter To My Kind Hair Stylist Who Eased My Anxiety

To My Kind Hair Stylist:

When I entered the salon you worked at I was filled with anxiety for no reason. It’s just something I deal with daily. My generalized anxiety has become much worse since I developed Lyme Disease. Regular daily chores and trips to the grocery store/hair salon/mall/restaurants fill me with anxiety. I wish I didn’t have to feel this way all of the time, but for now I do. I’m working hard to overcome it, but that could take many years.

And so I made myself walk into your salon. I desperately needed a nice haircut, and I took a deep calming breath and hoped for the best. The salon was beautiful, and had a nice relaxing atmosphere. The staff were all really nice and brought you out to meet me.

There was something about you that immediately put me at ease, and that is no small feat. You had a big smile on your face and a nice, tranquil demeanor.

You brought me to your chair and asked me a few questions about how I wanted my hair cut. I answered your questions quickly as I was still nervous. Then you proceeded to wash my hair. The scalp massage really helped me to relax. I felt okay as I walked back to your chair.

I had to immediately bring up a few health issues, as my Lyme Disease makes me more sensitive to chemicals, and I have to make sure there are no nut or shellfish containing products used due to me and my son’s food allergies.

You did not roll your eyes at all I told you. You kindly and sincerely answered all of my questions, and even checked and rechecked the product labels to make sure they were safe.

Even though you were very young, you had a certain patience and understanding about you that usually comes with age.

Whatever topic I brought up, you offered words of wisdom well beyond your years. You were sympathetic, perceptive, and very knowledgeable.

I was so grateful to be able to loosen up and be distracted enough to actually enjoy my haircut for the first time in years. You have no idea how much that means to me.

After talking to you for awhile you brought up the fact that you had recently donated your kidney to a boy you had been dating for only a year. Then it all made sense.

You aren’t just a thoughtful young woman. You aren’t just a patient woman. You are an Angel on Earth.

You had actually saved someone’s life, and I was grateful to be in your peaceful presence.

You gave off an air of acknowledgement, because you’ve already been through so much.

You were able to put me at ease, because you understood struggle.

You were able to show much kindness, because you know exactly what it means to walk a tough road.

You were also able to give me the best haircut I’ve had in years, even though you are just beginning your career.

When my haircut was through, you gave me a big hug. Not a forced one, a real genuine hug from your heart. That had never happened before in my 40 plus years of getting haircuts.

It was very sweet, and special, just like you are.

I believe deeply in thanking people who have shown me or my family kindness. I believe in thanking people who make my day, or go out of their way to help others.

Thank you for putting me at ease and making an ordinary trip to the salon an extraordinary one.

You are very good at your job and I wish you all the success in the world.

I also wish good health to you and your boyfriend. I hope the special bond that exists between the two of you lasts forever.

I will be back for more haircuts and will refer my friends and family too.

I have never thought of writing a letter/blog to thank a hair stylist before. That’s because I never met one like you.

I am altering the words of Sir Elton John to say:

My gift is my blog, and this one’s for you….

 

 

 

 

You Were Supposed to Be an Abortion

“You were supposed to be an abortion,” was one of the last things my father ever said to me. It was during Thanksgiving 2004 that he uttered these words to me, and to all sitting at the holiday table. I was shocked, embarrassed and hurt, but not surprised.

I have felt unwanted and unloved my whole life. Like an uninvited guest burdening an ongoing dinner party. A dinner party with not enough food, joy or warmth. I was just one more mouth to feed, one more diaper to change, one more screaming child in a house on the verge of destruction.

I know my mom did not want this, but it was an easy way out for my dad who was on the brink of a nervous breakdown. He was a cop who walked the beat in NYC, he was a man who beat his children when he was off duty. He loved a can of Budweiser more then he loved his own kids.

He suffered from mental illness but refused to get help. He spun out of control and we were all caught in his web. Sometimes he was an itsy bitsy amount of fun, most times he was as terrifying as Shelob the giant spider from Lord of the Rings. He was a spinner of lies and broken dreams, he was a predator to our happiness.

He called me Foe as a joke from Jack and the Beanstalk’s Fee Fi Fo Fum, but he was actually my foe. He was never truly in my corner, he never protected me, he never told me that he loved me. He even held a loaded gun to my head and asked me if I wanted to die first, on one dark night.

I like so many others was born into a home without love. The love had died, just as surely as my dad wanted me to. I was just a reminder of this fact, an exclamation mark to an unhappy marriage and life. When I was able to understand this, I suffered my first broken heart.

I have been trying to mend my broken heart ever since. I have not fully succeeded, and will spend the rest of my life trying. My past has led me to making many bad decisions, and to at least one unhealthy relationship.

It wasn’t until I matured and took the time to understand myself and my needs that I began to make better decisions. I learned to love the person that I thought was unlovable. I began to slowly heal. I learned to look at life through a new lens, I finally saw a path toward happiness.

There were many bumps in the road of course, and many wrong turns, but I managed to learn from my mistakes and get right back on the road. I steered clear of abusive personalities, and slowly found myself surrounded by kind, supportive people. People who understood pain, physical and/or mental, people who truly care about others.

This took awhile and was not easy, but was very worthwhile. It is much better to be alone than to be with people who constantly hurt you. It is much better to wait for good things, than to rush into bad situations. It is much better to take the time to truly love yourself. You are amazing. You are a gift.

I had waited my whole life for someone to tell me that they loved me. What I didn’t realize was that I needed to hear it from myself the most. When I was finally able to look in the mirror with pride and feel self-love, my life changed course.

I met a wonderful man and have two wonderful children. I try to tell them that I love them often, for I know what it feels like to crave these words. I try to show them how much I love them often, for I know what it feels like to be neglected. I try to hug and kiss them often, in the hopes that it will protect them from an unkind world. I try to show them kindness, so that they will show the same kindness to others.

I only saw my father once after that Thanksgiving. It was on his deathbed. There were no apologies offered, no warmth shown, no love for my unborn daughter that grew in my big belly, no I love yous, no big movie screen goodbyes.

I just leaned over him for the last time and kissed his forehead. I said a quick prayer for him to finally find peace and happiness.

I no longer needed him. I never really did. I walked out of that hospital room with all I ever really needed.

Myself, some self-love, and a whole lotta love to spare.

The Love Letter I Wish I Didn’t Have to Write

Sunday is Valentine’s Day. The twelfth one I will spend with my husband. We are so lucky that we met. We are so lucky that we are still together. But, I wish things were different.

Here is my love letter to him:

To my kind, smart, funny, patient and geeky husband,

We met in geek heaven. You were my loyal Samwise Gamgee, I was your elusive Elven Queen. We planned on spending many happy and healthy years together, despite me having a few health problems such as Interstitial Cystitis, Endometriosis and Asthma. We had lots of energy when we met, we had lots of plans.

We had a child quickly due to our age. We tried to have a second one for five years. You stood by me throughout my five miscarriages. You cared for me and our beautiful daughter when I did not have the energy to do it myself. You helped mend my broken heart.

You were there to exuberantly welcome our son. You stuck by me while I sorted out my Pre Menstrual Dysmorphic Disorder post pregnancy.

You always kept up hope that things would get better. That my health would improve enough for us to start planning things and start living again.

Then disaster struck in the form of Lyme Disease. For the last 2 1/2 years, it has been our Mordor. Difficult to navigate, impossible to climb. We felt like little Hobbits alone in the wilderness, and like Samwise, you never left your Frodo’s side.

I wouldn’t have blamed you if you did. I understand the sacrifice you make every single day to be with me. It is very hard on you having to work full time, be my caretaker, and help take care of our two young children.

It sometimes takes its toll. I can see it in your eyes. I can tell how tired you are. I wish I could lift your burden. I can’t wait for the day when I am able to.

You fight to keep hope alive for me and for our children. You strive to keep making us laugh, when you probably feel sad inside. You brought me many meals while I lay in bed for nearly a year. You bring me my medicine. You are my lifeline. You are my best friend.

Sometimes Obi Wan, you are my only hope.

When I grew up, I dreamed of the man on the white horse. I longed to meet my prince, my Sydney Carton, my Romeo, my Aragorn. Men who would love me more than anything else in the world. Men who would protect me and do almost anything for me. Men who would give their lives for me.

But none of those fictional heroes could hold a candle to you.

You prove to me on a daily basis what a true hero is. He is not from a work of literature, he is not a big action movie star, he does not have to be bigger than life.

He just has to be like you. Genuine, compassionate, faithful, flawed, and wonderful.

You prove to me daily what true love is. It is not flowers, it is not gifts or chocolates.

It is loving someone with every inch of your soul, without losing sight of yours. It is moving on from other things, and opening up new doors. It is sharing in their joy, and helping them through their pain. It is helping them see the bright side of things, throughout the constant rain. It is hope for the future, and nostalgia for the past. It is sticking by someone’s side, and making your love last. It is baby steps, and windy roads. It is full of light, and heavy loads. It is endless happiness, and times of tears. It is how I intend, to spend the rest of my years.

I am sorry that I do not currently live up to the expectations that I set for myself as your wife. I did not intend to suffer from so many chronic illnesses. But I did intend to love you with all of my heart.

I do intend to get better. I do intend to make many things up to you when I do. I do look forward to that day.

But for now, I want you to know I notice all of the things you do for me. I know how much you sacrifice to make me happy. I know that you silently pray at night for me to feel better, and for my pain to end. I know you wish you could take it away.

I see it, feel it, hear it and treasure all of it. Even though I do not always acknowledge it.

I am writing this letter to show my appreciation for all that you have done for me, and all that you will do for me.

I hope you know how much I love and admire you. I hope you know how glad I am that I chose you to be my husband. I hope you know what a great father you are.

I am the luckiest woman in the world.

Happy Valentine’s Day.

 

 

To the Woman who Has Just Been Diagnosed with Chronic Lyme Disease

I was you once. Two and a half long years ago. I am a mere shadow of myself now, but there is still life and light within that is starting to shine once again.

When you finally receive the diagnosis of Lyme Disease, it may feel like a huge burden has been lifted from your shoulders. You’ve been in pain and struggling for so long with no answers. Now that you have one, you may think life will get easier, and it may for awhile now that your condition has a name. You feel vindicated. You can now tell people you have Lyme, and are not in fact going crazy.

But slowly the sad reality sinks in. You are not getting better despite the diagnosis. You are not being cured despite the medicine you are given. You are walking on quicksand, and feel like no one is ever going to be able to pull you out.

Days go by, and you struggle to find the reason why you are not getting better. You decide to become an expert on Lyme Disease, but your brain fog and memory loss makes that task almost impossible.

So you take what you are given, try to eat better and look for the light at the end of the tunnel. But, all you can see is darkness.

The spirochetes are invading your body like an alien being on an old episode of Star Trek. If only Scotty could beam you up and out of this place, if only Dr. McCoy could find all the answers.

But, there are no concrete answers, there is no cure. Welcome to the Lyme Zone. A dimension where bright sights and loud sounds can drive you insane. Where finding a doctor who can actually reduce your suffering is like finding a needle in a haystack.

Your family and friends become distant as you are always sick and unable to participate in life’s pleasures. Your relationship with your spouse and kids becomes strained. They miss the old you, you wonder if she will ever come back.

I know what you are going through. I am so sorry for all of your pain. I wish I could take it all away.

I am here to tell you though that it is a long, horrible road, you will feel better. You may not be cured, but you will feel better. Try to find a good doctor or LLMD, and do what they suggest. Keep track of how you are feeling and when something makes you feel even the slightest bit better, let them know, it may set you on the right track. Don’t be afraid to try new medicines/treatments, but listen to what your body is telling you.

You will have a million ups and downs, but NEVER give up. Take each tiny victory as a sign that you are on the right path. Though it is long and hard it is totally worth it.

As hard as it is to concentrate and enjoy things, find something that you can tolerate to pass the time. Take up quilting, learn to play an instrument, volunteer, learn a new computer program, play solitaire, start journaling or blogging. I have always written poetry, and now have some Facebook pages, and blogs to pass the time and release my emotions.

Do what makes you happy when you can, and look forward to the next time you are able to do it. Have something to look forward to, even if it is only once a week. Get out of bed and make yourself look fabulous, whenever you have the energy to.

Watch and follow positive stories and role models. People who provide the light and perform good deeds can help us find the good in life once again. They can help us get through the years of torment that Lyme Disease puts us through. They can help lead the way to a brighter day.

I promise you it will come.

Think it. Believe it. Feel it within every inch of your soul.

And it will happen.

You are my hero.

You will get through this.

You are worth it.

I believe in you, so please start believing in yourself.

I’m on your side.

I’m right here fighting beside you.

You are not alone.

You can do this.

Now let’s get started.

Let’s kick some Lyme ass!

 

Kathy ❤

Poetologie

Nuts About My Son

 

quicksand meme

 

 

What My Neighbors Taught Me During The Blizzard of 2016

I live in Northern Virginia in one of the areas hardest hit by Winter Storm Jonas. My town’s recorded snowfall was 36 inches, but with the snow drifts it was even more.

We were very lucky that we did not experience a power outage in the freezing temperatures, and that our house was stocked with food. My husband is a registered nurse, and we were fortunate that he was off during the storm, because the wonderful emergency and health workers out there have to go to work in any weather condition.

A day after the storm ended, he cleared our front steps and part of our driveway, but the large amount of snow required many breaks be taken. During one of his breaks, a neighbor, who we do not know, proceeded to use his snowblower to clear our entire sidewalk, as well as the sidewalks of many of our neighbors. He did this out of the goodness of his heart. It was a pure act of kindness, and we were all blessed to witness it.

The next day I was so relieved to see that they finally plowed our street. Two of my biggest concerns during the storm was what would we do if the power went out, and what would we do if we had an emergency that required an ambulance, or a trip to the ER?

These thoughts terrified me, and multiplied with each inch of fresh fallen snow. My son suffers from life-threatening food allergies, and I have had to call an ambulance for him recently due to severe croup. I suffer from Chronic Lyme Disease, Asthma, and other chronic conditions, and am often sick or requiring an ER visit. Plus, an accident can happen to anyone, even while at home, and the roads were impassable.

The first day we were barely able to get out the front door, so when that snow was gone, I felt a little less anxious.

The plows had a very difficult time clearing the snow, and worked on our street for what seemed like hours. When they were through a huge pile of heavy snow remained blocking my driveway.

My husband was at work, and I had very few spoons left, but I knew that for our safety, I had to clear the area.

My ten year old daughter offered to help me, but was unable to do it for more than a few minutes. It was hard work removing snow from a huge area of what was now over four feet post plow.

It was a beautiful sunny day, but I wasn’t feeling very sunny inside. I was tired, nauseous from my daily antibiotic, and wishing my husband was home.

Then like a ray of sunshine two of the young high school/college age girls from two houses down came over and said that they were going to help me. I couldn’t believe it, it was incredibly kind of them. When I was their age, I was nice, but in a complacent sort of way. I was wrapped up in my own world and problems, and I don’t think I ever went out of my way to help a neighbor shovel. I was very impressed with these girls and glad that my kids saw them helping me.

snowmaggedon 2016 girl neighbors helping

After a few minutes of shoveling and chatting, another neighbor came over with the kind gentleman’s snowblower (which cleared our sidewalk the day before.) This was a great sight to see, and our mound of snow would be cleared in no time! He removed all of the remaining snow quickly, efficiently, and benevolently.

snowmaggedon 2016 mike & snowblower guy

The street was filled with neighbors helping neighbors, and was as it should be. They all helped each other clear their driveways, and rescue their buried cars. This lasted for hours, and continued after I went inside to rest.

IMG_7631

I’m incredibly grateful to all of them, and appreciate their kindness. They didn’t have to help me, but they wanted to. They represent the good in this world. They are an example of the kind of positive stories/acts that should continue to go viral, to drown out the negative ones.

I will never forget the Blizzard of 2016, and I will never forget what my neighbors taught me:

  • When you don’t have many spoons left, there is always someone to lend a helping hand.
  • We are surrounded by good people, we just have to take the time to realize it.
  • If you have a snowblower, shovel or a smile, you can make help make someone’s day.
  • We should all be considerate, and try to help our neighbors more.
  • For every unkind person, there are many more kind people to make up for it.
  • If you are the recipient of an act of kindness, point it out to your kids, then maybe they will realize its value and strive to give back someday.
  • Heroes are all around us, and are born from everyday acts of grace.

All of us face many storms or difficulties in our lives, some more than others. But if we learn to open our eyes and see the acts of kindness that are born from such storms, we can help each other get through.

We can help this world become a much warmer, brighter place. We can help each other melt any hearts that may have become icy, or burdened by piles of snow.

Kathy ❤

Poetologie/Nuts About My Son

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To All The Siblings of Those Who Have Food Allergies

When my son was diagnosed with food allergies in December 2014, it changed all of our lives, including our 9 year old daughter. For over a year now, I have been amazed at the way she has handled her brother’s diagnosis. She never complains about all of the sacrifices she must make, and she takes such good care of him.

I wanted to write a letter to her and to all of the siblings of those with food allergies, to thank them for all they do, and to let them know how special they are.

To All The Siblings of Those Who Have Food Allergies:

You must have been a little worried when your siblings were diagnosed with food allergies. You may have wondered what that diagnosis meant, or how it would affect you. You may have been scared for your brother or sister because you love them, and don’t want anything bad to happen to them.

You may have had to stop eating out at restaurants, or going away on vacations until things were sorted out. You may have had to give up favorite foods, snacks or desserts until your parents figured out what they could feed your sibling safely.

You may have missed a party or two, a ballgame, or some play-dates that included your brother or sister.

You may have had to start using weird new toothpaste, shampoo, lotion and art supplies. You probably wondered what on earth they had to do with food allergies.

Your holidays and certain traditions may have been altered.

You may have had to tag along to many emergency room or doctor’s office visits.

You may have wanted to cry, and have things go back to the way they were before food allergies.

But, you didn’t.

Because you are amazing.

You have a sibling with a life-threatening allergy and you know it. You do all that you can to help them, to protect them, and to comfort them.

You make sure their EpiPens are always taken on all trips outside of the home.

You hold their hand every time they have to get a scratch test or a blood test.

You help them put on their buttons, shirts or bracelets that identify their allergy.

You learn the names of their allergens, and make sure everyone else knows them too.

You can spot their allergen a mile away, and you can identify them on food labels.

You sit with them in another section when they are separated from everyone else, you eat whatever dessert they must eat at a party so they don’t feel different.

You comfort them when they are afraid, you are their best friend when other kids don’t understand or bully them.

You defend them when you need to, you teach them how to stand up for themselves.

You are compassionate, trustworthy and kind.

You care about others, you love your sibling who has food allergies with all of your heart.

Never forget how special you are. Never forget how loved you are.

You are the best brother or sister in the world.