Sleepless in the San Fernando Valley

My mother would have been 79 years old yesterday. The pandemic is receding and the waves are receding and I miss her.

They were back East. I was out West. Our parents were gone.

One thing is for sure: it wears a body down.

It took me years to realize that my mother only half-remembered my childhood because it was enough to get three kids through the day.

It was like riding a merry-go-round of human emotions.

When I am there, I am home.

Sustainability is important. So is expressing yourself with joy.

There is so much beauty in being together and so much that needs to be resolved.

Letting go of a white-nuckled grip is a process not an event.

My bones were tired from fear and worry and frustration. No one knew what was wrong with my son.

My kids have had typhus and mono and hernia repairs and stiches. They’ve wrecked the car and fallen out of trampolines and had anaphylaxis…

Forget Dr. Watson. If only Sherlock Holmes practiced medicine.

Merriam Webster defines orphan as, “A child deprived by death of both parents.” Being in midlife doesn’t change that.

Grief is weird. One minute, I am fine and the next I am sobbing into my face mask.

My friend is a plant shaman mama. She says plants are our teachers. I am learning she is right.

I wish I had put on a Vicki Fashion Show when my mom was still alive. She would have loved to see us in her clothes.

I don’t mind being soulful but I hate feeling nostalgic. It makes me feel like time is passing faster than I can collect it.

My therapist told me to develop a healthy denial of life’s vulnerabilities and randomness— or I will never sleep soundly again.

Last year, I told myself, “Buckle up, bitch, you just hit fifty.” I didn’t have a clue.

Gremmie loves Xbox and cookies — and I love keeping him busy.

This little group of P-words seemed to want to be in this essay. I went with it.

Just like baby bird in the book, I don’t know where she is but I am determined to find her.

My current self-nurturing practice includes lying in my bed and thinking about self-nurturing activities.