Tag Archives: family

Screw Resolutions – 2015: How are you going to spend your time?

31 Dec

Screw Resolutions – 2015: How are you going to spend your time?.

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Screw Resolutions – 2015: How are you going to spend your time?

30 Dec

time

I know I haven’t written lately. I couldn’t. And I cant get into that now, but someday I will, I promise.

But for now, my thoughts are directed to New Years, a passing of time, an indelible marker in our lives, a clear segment that delineates one point in our lives from the next.We don’t realize it when we are younger, but its all about time. Recently, a very wise, insightful and imperfect friend and I had a conversation that is haunting me. He spoke of time, and what it means to spend it on someone. Bear with me on this.

When we are younger, time seems infinite. 20 seems like a loooooong way away, 40 seems even further, and 60 is unimaginable. Most of us don’t even give the concept of time any consideration, and if we do, we think we have lots of time left in our lives, plenty of it. We spend our time playing learning, growing, and having fun as a child, carefree and never thinking about it as a commodity or something to be given away or traded. Most of the time, we are killing time in our teens, waiting for bigger things to happen “Cant wait to get my first car” or “Cant wait till I turn 21, go to college, get married, etc.” Time is spent wishing for bigger things.

Moving on to our 20’s, we will spend our time with anyone fun, vibrant, good looking, entertaining, or interesting with out a thought. Like a millionaire throwing around dollar bills at a nudie bar, we have plenty of time to spend on trivial shit, and its fun to do so. It doesn’t really matter how we spend it, as long as we are enjoying ourselves. In our 30’s we spend our time building our “empire”. Chasing the ultimate house, squirreling away our nest egg, our stock portfolio, our designer handbag collection, obtaining big boy toys, etc. Our time is focused on the build  and the acquisition. Maybe its spent planning your dream wedding, building your perfect McMansion, picking out that granite for the big remodel, raising your beautiful family,  shopping for matching outfits for that family Christmas card photo shoot,  and searching out the latest and greatest video games/toy for your kids to have the picturesque childhood you always wanted. Make that money, watch it burn, as the song says. Spend your time generously.

By the time we hit 40, we realize time is short. We get stingier with it. Friends pass away suddenly, with out warning, healthy one day, gone the next. They have no more time.  Marriages fall apart. Jobs come and go, the company down sizes, and you’re in foreclosure. Life starts smacking you in the face. Your husband leaves, or your dealing with addiction, or your kid gets knocked up, and the other one is arrested for something humiliating, your dad tells you he’s gay, whatever the crisis, there is always a crisis.  It makes you realize, all that time you dumped into building these things was great while it lasted, but nothing is safe from life’s cruel jokes and ironies. The rug gets pulled out. Even if your “aha” moment is from watching someone else’s train wreck, and your lucky enough to never experience the heartbreak and agony of your own, you start to realize that your time is finite, and your most sacred commodity. Unlike money, or a home, or your stock portfolio, or  anything material for that matter, you can not get more. Once its spent, its gone forever. The gift of our time can save someones life, or change it, or make them feel loved or unloved, or worthy or unworthy. Time is our dearest possession, and we just don’t know when we are going to cease to have it.  Time with my deceased mother I will never again get to spend. Time spent as a mother is finite too, as children get older and need you less and less. Time spent nurturing a friendship, or fixing a broken relationship, or nursing an elderly parent or making a craft with your kids kindergarten class is a GIFT from you to the people you chose to love and spend your time and energy on, because you can’t make any more of it, and you can’t get it back, and it may be of short supply, you just don’t know when you’re gonna run out of it.

So this coming New Year, choose your time wisely. Make sure the person, energy spent or behavior is worth it.  Choose your actions seriously. Don’t waste time on people who don’t understand that you’re giving them something you’ll never get back. Don’t give away your life by engaging in meaningless situations which cause you damage and drain your most precious commodity. Don’t entertain friendships that rob you of your time and leave you empty. Debit your time to people and actions that honor it and understand its a valuable, endangered  resource. Make your time count, and make sure who you choose to spend it on loves and appreciates you for it, because time is a limited gift and you never know when its time for your heart to take its final beat, and just like that, your time is up.

So how are you going to spend your time in 2015?

 

This post is dedicated to two people. My friend Coleen Rice Medinger who passed away unexpectedly last week, and whom I will never have time again with. Coleen I enjoyed the gift of your time, and what you shared with me during our mutual struggles with infertility.

And to my imperfect friend, a very flawed man who knows who he is. I appreciate your time, thank you for trusting me to spend it together.

 

Copyrite 2014 livelaughloveliquor.

Thank you for spending your time reading my words, allowing me to connect with you, and please share if it touches you.

 

What is the Meaning of Life?

29 Mar

blogwaterpark

I’m not sure if it was my mother’s death that prompted it, or perhaps being on the wrong side of 45, but I make no secret about that fact that I am experiencing a severe mid-life crisis.  It’s not just the fact that I am wearing powder blue eye shadow like its 1975, or that I bought a snappy little convertible Audi (red, of course) or that I have re-discovered the push up bra.  While those things are obvious (and pathetically cliché) in all seriousness,I have also found myself searching to live a more  thoughtful life.  As the mother of young children who is often tossed back and forth in a sea of banal household routines (lunches, laundry, drop off, pick up), sheer utter chaos (9pm Sunday night someone announces they need 17 egg-shaped, nut free, homemade sandwich cookies to contribute to snack tomorrow) and extreme forms of torture (ever step on a lego during a midnight bath room trip??), it is easy to reel in the years on auto pilot, doing but not seeing, acting but not feeling, living but not aware.  I’ve been making a true effort to absorb more of every thing around me, live vividly (thus the blue eyeshadow, perhaps?????) and really be thoughtful of what is happening instead of just being in robot survival mode.  Not easy, but I’m trying.

This week for spring break, my friend Sheila Castellano and I took a last-minute road trip to New Hampshire for a mini vacation. Five kids in tow, we decided to hit an indoor water park. The kids were thrilled, and we were stoked to see they served booze so we could enjoy an adult cocktail while the darlings splashed about. The day was exhausting.  4 flights of stairs up and down for the water slides, (helloooo, I’m 47 years old!) running here, running there,  swimming, jumping, following the little darlings everywhere with scarcely a time to enjoy a cocktail or the grotto like hot tub provided for adults. I’m not going to talk about how one kid almost broke a nose, or how one dropped a deuce in her swimsuit, or the other that had to be rescued by a life guard, but  I do want to share  a moment of clarity I  had, in an unlikely place.

The girls favorite part of the water park was the wave pool. Graded like a beach, every 10 minutes or so a horn would blast warning its occupants that the pool would simulate the breakers of the ocean. Pulling you in, spitting you out, back and forth, being tossed around, the girls would squeal with delight the minute the horn sounded, and run for the “shoreline”. I had just sat down after 8 or 9 consecutive trips up the stairs with an inner tube on my balanced on my head, my thighs were throbbing like jello.  I was about to order a glass of wine, when they scampered up to me, each grabbing a hand, begging me and dragging me towards the man-made shore.  I begrudgingly hauled myself up on my still shaky hamstrings, and hobbled in. The waves started and they each held on to my hand, jumping and howling with glee. As the intensity of the waves grew, we got drawn in deeper, and they clambered closer  to me, eventually climbing me like a water-logged tree trunk. One little strawberry blonde, slippery, meatball in each arm, they held on to me for dear life as we were tossed about  in water up to our shoulders.  My legs ached with the burn of 1000 stairmasters, while one of them grabbed my ponytail like the reigns of a horse, and the other dug her toes into my hipbone, as if it were a rung on the ladder of her own fleshy tree-house.  I was standing there praying for it to be over, when I remembered my promise to be more mindful. Instead of waiting out the torture, I stopped, took a deep breath and FELT what was happening. In my right arm, the little one moved in and grabbed my cheek, planting a wet kiss on me while laughing and squirming with delight.  At my left, the big one was yelling “More! More!” and was beaming the most genuine, delightful grin. They giggled and chuckled in my ear, and it was a moment of pure joy and childhood elation.  As I watched the girls in their delighted state of euphoria, a warmth spread inside of me. Like a  slow-moving wave, I felt my affection for them grow inside of me, and just for a moment life shifted into slow motion, and time stood still.  I saw them in all their innocent splendor, the joy they felt just “being”, and my love for them exploded. Something clicked and for the first time in my life I was AWARE of what unconditional love felt like. Just pure 100 percent love. Not love because you expect love back. Not love fuel by sex. Or money, or power, need, or reciprocation. Not a desire to fill a void left by my own childhood, or to make up for what I never had.  Just unfiltered love.  Not loved tinged by fear: fear of the unknown, fear of uncertainty, or mistrust, or of being alone or what is going to happen when it ends.  Genuine, unadulterated, 100 percent pure love. Don’t get me wrong, I have always loved them, but that love was over shadowed by other emotions too – at their birth there was also wonder, fear of the unknown, worry about health etc.   Even though it runs in the background,   love get swallowed up by daily activities, and  is overshadowed by responsibility.  But at that  moment  love came shining thru in the foreground, and everything else stopped.  The ache in my hip. the pull of my hair, my weariness took a back seat. Warmth, and gratitude came rushing at me as the clock stopped ticking, stars smiled at me, and something spiritual tapped in. At that moment I was grateful for every choice I had made that led me to these children. And in the middle of the White Mountain Valley of New Hampshire, in a 2nd rate water park  at 47 years old, I felt blessed and God spoke to me and said, “This my dear, is the meaning of your life”.

Amen.

Don’t get me wrong, I’m not about to give up my Sephora addiction any time soon, but I can promise you this: I’m going to take more deep breaths, live a vivid life and just FEEL things more often. I hope you do too.

Thanks for reading and thank you to all that repost this on facebook or share the link with friends. xoxoxox

Copyright 2013 livelaughloveliquor

A Picture = 1,000 Words

7 Dec

I figured I’d jump on the “Wordless Wednesday” band wagon.  And honestly, this says it all……

Now if only they could read.

Happy Wednesday everyone!

Thanks for stopping by!

*A special THANK YOU to my friend Heidi Burgener for the usage of the sign.

5 Easy Steps for a Happier Holiday: A Mother’s Survival Guide.

29 Nov

Does the monotony of life have you down this holiday season? Does all that black Friday shopping make you feel as if you lost your merry mojo? Are you fighting off urges to beat the crap out of the woman who took the last Leapfrog Leappad at ToysRus or flip the bird to the Salvation Army Santa outside of Target? Does it feel like your inner child a nothing but a wretched brat with a lump of coal stuck in her diaper? Holidays shmolidays, Bah humbug.  Life sucks. Fear not, my friends, happiness is but a stone’s throw away.  I too, suffered from a joy deficiency in my life this holiday season, until I discovered a few simple back-to basics principles to ramp up my fun factor and overall happiness. Now I know what you are thinking, and no, I’m not talking about re discovering  my g-spot or a super sized jug of spiced rum, (well, maybe the rum) but with the help of some everyday items and the right attitude, you too, can find sunshine,  glee, and holiday cheer.  You don’t need Dale Carnegie,  screw him.  EST sucks, and is for losers. Why pay all that money for some a-hole to tell you to find your center, blah blah blah.  I got ya covered, ladies.  Follow these 5 proven methods, and you’ll be whistling ‘Jingle Bells’ out of your sphincter in no time!

Five  Secrets to a Happier You this Holiday Season

 1.  Positive Affirmations and Gratitude:  Nothing is more powerful than a ‘can do’ attitude. Positive affirmations are the key to being in a desired situation/mindset, and which are repeated in order to impress the subconscious mind and trigger it into positive thoughts. This requires the affirmations to be repeated with passion, conviction, interest and desire. They usually start with I AM or I WILL.  We all have things we are good at right? Or maybe we WANT to a possess a particular personality trait. Affirmations are the key to true happiness with one’s self. Find value in what you do. Find something positive that defines you, and you will find happiness.  For example, I am a stay at home mom with a few pounds to lose, who rarely has time for make up and festive primping. I rarely get compliments, and my contributions to the family are never tangible. My value comes from within, and from the things I do for my children.  So, for example, after my daughter came down with a particularly vicious stomach bug just in time to ruin our Thanksgiving celebration, I needed to find the bright side of it all.  During one of about 6659 visits to the commode, she told me in the purest sincerity “Mommy, you’re a really good butt wiper”.  Wow! Now THOSE my friends, are some powerful words.  And to think I’ve sometimes doubted my butt wiping abilities!! Doubt no more.  Desperate times, call for desperate measures, and I will take what little flattery I can get and run with it. Now imagine me, upon waking, rising to the mirror, and like a phoenix from the ashes (asses?) repeating in the mirror loudly, with passion, conviction, interest, and desire that “I AM A GOOD BUTT WIPER!!!”  State it! Say it! Own it! How could you not feel happy after that? If that doesn’t warm the cockles of every mother’s heart, I sure don’t know what will. You can bet your last case of Charmin that this Thanksgiving I was thankful for being a great butt wiper.

2. Primp Before you Shop:  Crowds, crowds, everywhere. Pushing, shoving, grabbing for the last 2 dollar iPhone cover, fighting over parking spaces, it’s all too much.  You’re run down, and feeling like a holiday hag.  To make matters worse, you’re starting to realize you don’t turn heads any longer and are feeling invisible to the opposite sex. Youve gone from MILF to ZILCH. Here is a little secret from one has-been to the next, a little magic formula for some public attention: Sequins and fake eyelashes are my kryptonite against the holiday doll drums. In fact, truth be told, I can’t afford the liposuction or Botox it would take to restore me back to my glory days, so a 5 dollar pair of drug store lashes and a beat up sequin tank top from my disco nights will have to do, in order to amp up my joy factor. Nuttin’ says ‘she got her sexy back’ like showing up at Walmart with synthetic hair glued on the lids of your eyes, a push up bra, and some sequins! I promise you, you will feel like a million bucks on rollback prices when all eyes are upon you. And if all eyes are upon you the other shoppers are distracted  so you have a better chance of scoring that limited quantity obscenely large HDTV Flat screen LCD on blue light special. Joy to the world!! And if you are still not sold on eyelashes and sequins, consider this: Have you ever seen an unhappy trannie?   I didn’t think so, case closed!

3. KISSmas Carols Verses Christmas Carols: Have you ever been stuck in traffic with a car full of kids after a 6 hour stint at the mall which included waiting in line to see an inebriated fat man in a germ speckled santa suit? Cranky and jacked up on candy canes, the kids are whining for your attention in the back seat. French fries are flying, someone just nailed you in the head with a milk shake, and you KNOW there is nothing happy about a G-Damned happy meal.  Every station is playing the same lame Christmas carols over and over and the kids decide to have a contest to see who can sing along the loudest. You love them but at this point, hog tying them with mistletoe and using a Xmas ornament as a ball gag seems like a terrific idea. It’s enough to make even Mother Teresa want to spike her eggnog, and you find yourself wishing that the bar at Applebees had a drive thru. Want the answer to get the merry-making peanut gallery to STFU thus making yourself incredibly joyful? You do? GREAT! Now go get yourself a KISS album on CD. Any one will do, but my personal recommendation is “Destroyer”.  When the back seat b.s. starts up, turn off the lite fm Xmas b.s.,  insert the KISS CD and CRANK. IT. UP.  Blast out the backseat buggers and all their needless singing! Your children will be scared shitless at the surprise guitar rifts and the rockin’ tunes, and as an added bonus, you will look like a badass to passing motorist! Tap into the power of Gene Simmons this holiday season, and you are guaranteed a silent night!

4. A Touch of Elfin’ Magic :  Never, ever, underestimate the power of Elfin’ Magic (also known as Unbridled Holiday F*ckery) in your quest for a happier holiday.  Elfin’ Magic comes in many forms, and depending on your level of creativity, does not take a tremendous amount of time, money or energy to execute.  Let’s say, for example, your obnoxious, neighbor conveniently looks the other way when  his dog craps on your yard, instead of his. You’ve spoken to him about it to no avail.  An example of Elfin’ f*ckery, hypothetically speaking, of course, would be to collect a week or two’s worth of turds and let them ripen in your shed in a plastic bag. After they have had a chance to properly ferment, deposit them in a Macy’s box (NOTE: rubber gloves recommended),  careful gift wrap said turds, and leave them on his doorstep! Happy Crappy Holidays, Mr. Jones!  Or say you have a holy rolling, hypocritical, bloated, red-faced, good ole boy, perverted boss who secretly glances at your breasts, makes vomit inducing innuendos, and makes you feel like you never want to have sex ever again. Ever. He leers at you while showcasing pictures of his fat angry wife and their six sweaty children on his desk like a shrine to fidelity, meanwhile, he checks out your ass every chance he gets. A man like this is a prime candidate for Elfin Magic. A fine example would be to would be to go online and sign him up for a gift subscription for a hardcore fetish magazine and sign  it, ‘Love, Santa’.  Now sit back, and watch the holiday magic in the mailroom, once his first copy of ‘Anal Fun Magazine’ arrives just in time for Christmas! Or perhaps you are wondering what to get your sadistic old uncle that used purposely pinch your cheeks until you bruised and gave you a pair of diabetic socks for your 8th birthday? Summon up your inner elf and buy him that hot pink neon “GYM, TAN, LAUNDRY” sweatshirt and some leopard print stretchie pants! He will be the belle of the nursing home! Elfin Magic – doesn’t it just make you  smile?   (Warning, use Elfin Magic sparingly and deservingly, or you may find a lump of coal in your stocking)

5. Booze: Dont be afraid to dive into the holiday punch bowl at the office Xmas party.  Spike the eggnog and slip santa a mickey! Seriously, when life hands you a bowl of lemons, grab the tequila and some salt. Drink up, santa’s helpers! Nothing wrong with a little tidings of Southern Comfort and joy! Happiness is just a shot glass away……..or at least until the next family photo card shoot.

Merry Christmas, Happy Hanukkah, Joyous Festivus, and thanks for reading! And a special big fat thank you to all who repost this on facebook, forward via email and tweet! Cheers!

Yes, those really are my kids, and no, I didn’t stage it that way.


What’s Wrong With This Picture?

27 Sep

Can you spot what’s wrong with this picture? This is my favorite reading nook, in our foyer.

How about now? A little closer……..

See it now???? (Hint: It is not the fact that I have decorated for Halloween ridiculously early)

There is no denying it…….

BINGO! Someone got a hold of my lipstick while I was upstairs drying my hair thinking Hubs was watching them. In reality, Hubs was in his basement ‘man cave’ playing guitar thinking I was reigning over the little darlings.  The culprit decided to tickle her taste buds by gnawing on a grotesquely shaded tube of hot pink lipstick I used as a prop for an 80’s theme party we went to.  After artfully applying Avon’s ‘Fuchsia Fun’ lipstick to her tiny visage, she then titillated her palate with it, turning her teeth and gums a lovely shade of magenta.  As if that weren’t fun enough, she then decided to show her love and appreciation for various pieces of furniture by kissing them, leaving tiny pink lip prints in her wake.

I know what you’re thinking: Why didn’t I get a picture of little Miss ‘Pinky Tuskadental’?  Well, I might have thought to do so if temporary insanity had not kicked me in the head, full throttle. At the time, however, I was busy avoiding cardiac arrest and screeching at top volume for Hubs to “Get the hell up here!!!”  Hubs got the dirty job of playing dental hygenist (a 15 minute ordeal of holding a 42 pound kicker down while shoving a toothbrush back and forth in her gaping crying pie hole). While I was busy silently cursing, crying and dancing on the edge  of a nervous breakdown.  Hubs tells me I was walking in circles muttering nonsense in regards to  promising my immortal soul to a pack of heathens if only I could get the lipstick off our (pre-children) cream color down filled sofa, but I have no memory of that.  So sorry folks, no pics of the pink encrusted cavity trap.

One of the very best jewels of wisdom my good friend Robyn Abramo once told me was this:  “Eventually everything is funny in retrospect.” It’s something I carry dear with me whenever I feel like I am getting ready for take off for flying over the cuckoo’s nest. It’s something I remembered when I came down stairs to make breakfast this morning, and found the one lip print left over from this weekend’s Lipstick Lollapalooza. And I have to admit, I laughed. Hope you did too.

As always, thank you for reading!And thank you doubly for those who share my link on facebook, twitter, etc. xoxoxoxo

You can find the answer to the poll HERE

Copyright 2011 Livelaughloveliquor. All Rights Reserved.  No reproduction in any medium without prior written consent of the author is permitted.

How Do You Say Goodbye?

6 Sep

“Chrissie, it’s Carol….should I answer it?” Hubs asked, somewhat bewildered, as he held out his cell phone towards me.

Carol…..my mother. Why would she be calling Hubs cell while we were on vacation?  We were relaxing on the  beach in Ocean City Md, enjoy the sun and sand for our last day of vacation. What was so important that couldn’t wait until we got home?

“Hello.”  I said impatiently.

“Hi.”  She sounded reluctant. “I’m afraid I have some bad news. I had a CAT scan of the abdomen and it looks like I have  malignant tumors on my liver. I am waiting to hear from the MAYO clinic but things are not looking good. ”

I was standing on the beach, wind in my hair and sun in my eyes, but in an instant all that eclipsed and everything went dark.  Our relationship has been distant for the last several years and I had no idea she was not feeling well, never the less,  going for testing. I sat down, feeling sick.  My mind immediately flashed back to a recurring dream I’ve had in the past 6 months in which my deceased father comes to me and tells me to bury the hatchet, let her live her life and don’t take her abandonment personally. Our once close relationship shifted after my father passed away in 2005. After a year or so of mourning,  she lost interest in the family and morphed into someone I did not recognize. With no apologies or regrets, she sold the house, discarded boxes of  treasured family mementos, and announced she was moving to FLA with her new boyfriend.  She never looked back, and at no time seemed to miss any of us. Her telephone calls were distracted, her visits to us are brief and obligatory. All of that cut deep into my heart over the years, I’ve missed her terribly, walking around like a jilted daughter. And now I was hearing that her time was growing short. My head started spinning. I ask her about 3,000 questions, all of what you would expect: Are they certain its malignant? Do you have any symptoms? What stage? Etc. She is vague. She makes it extremely clear that her boyfriend  is her medical proxy and she has no intention of traveling back up to the NY/NJ area for treatment or a 2nd opinion. Basically, the 4 of her children have no say in her medical care, should she be unable to make decisions herself. That feels like yet another rejection added to the devastating news like some sort of decrepid cherry on top of a macabre sundae.

My mind is reeling. My mother and I were so different in so many ways, I remember as a child often questioning her if I was in fact adopted. I was never ‘my mother’s daughter’ so to speak, and I know she failed to understand me as much as I failed to grasp the things that were important to her. Yet we shared a sense of humor, and a history rich in experience and emotion.  Some good years,  some bad.  She stayed with me after the birth of all three of my natural-born children, She held my hand when I needed it, and stood by me regardless of what I did. Many times through the years we clung to each other for support.  As I matured, our roles would reverse, and sometimes it was I who comforted her. She was my mother, and she used to be my best friend. I’ve missed her so much over the past several years, and I’d let that hurt form into a nerve so raw that I found it easier to avoid her rather than to relate to her on her limited terms. And now she was telling me those chances will never come again.

As the call ended we exchanged affections, despite the traffic jam erupting inside my mind.  I managed to bind it at the seams of my heart with a shallow thread, so I could choke out the words assuring her I will pray for her healing, and that I love her.  I hang up the phone just as my youngest child runs up the sand dune, tugging at me. She wants to play with me near the water’s edge. Robotically I walk with her as she tugs me towards the surf.  I pass people along the way and smile sheepishly. I know I look normal but inside my head is flooded with static like that of a white noise machine running like non stop background clatter. My little girl and I sit and dig. The day is breezy, and a soft ocean wind is blowing my daughter’s  strawberry blonde curls back far enough for me to see her cheekbones. The same Eastern European high cheekbones passed down to four generations that I know of.  From my grandmother to my mother, from my mother to myself, and now from me to her, the youngest member of our family. At 2 1/2 I know she will never remember my mother, and that thought provokes yet another emotional spasm I struggle to stifle in front of my sweet girl.   It feels as if my heart is leaking and pouring out into the sand, mixing with the salt water of the tides.  I think to ask my mother to write each of her grandchildren a note to remember her by, but I choke as I imagine myself saying those words out loud.  What hurts equally is that I am not sure she would do it, even if I asked.

Snapping me back to the moment, My little one  suddenly giggles and squirms with delight as the crisp ocean water hits her feet. She reaches over and hugs me, a wet, sandy hug so raw and visceral that if she wasnt grinning, I’d think she was reading my mind.  I contemplate the complex relationship of mothers and daughters as I watch the surf  rise and recede. Like the years I’ve spent being my mother’s child, some waves are jarring and choppy,  knocking me to my feet, disorienting me as I struggled to regain my footing.  Other waves (and years) are calm and serene offering a cool comfort while I tried to navigate the hot sand of the world around me. The breakers crash and rise, reminding me of the forty-five years of being her daughter. Some years we struggled and some were effortless.  Anger and heartache, elation and celebration, she saw me through it all.  Her rejection stung like no other, but her tender maternal care made me the kind and loving person that I am. At that moment I realized that everything I know about love was taught to me by my mother. And the love that I feel for her, despite the last few years, is as fierce and abysmal as the ocean.

I’ll miss her for the rest of my life.

Photo credit: Justina Anastasi August 2011  Ocean City, Maryland.

As always my friends, thank you for reading, and if you can spare a good thought and a prayer for Carol, I’d appreciate it.

Copyright 2011 Livelaughloveliquor. All Rights Reserved.  No reproduction in any medium without prior written consent of the author is permitted.