A Fellow Traveller

At our school, those celebrating birthdays are expected to bring in a treat to share with all the staff. As I baked a loaf of banana bread and added chocolate chips, I was simply trying to use up soft bananas. In thinking about what to make next for my birthday, I realized that if I brought the bread in to school, I would need to give it a special presentation. Nothing seemed quite right for it until I found a china dish from my good set of dishes, the ones I keep waiting for special occasions to use. What am I waiting for anyways? Since I'm turning 50 this year, I'm thinking in global terms about what I've accomplished in life so far and what lessons I've learned during the past decades. If I keep waiting until things are just right, before you know it, I'll be an old lady with lots of regrets. I learned years ago that if I waited until the house was perfect to invite someone in for coffee, it would never happen. So why do I hesitate to use my china dishes? I

Robin in the snow, what a shivering fellow. Robin in the snow, mind your boots of yellow. Running through the garden on your nimble feet, Hoping for some dinner with your long, strong beak. Robin in the snow, you DO mind the weather. Snowfall always makes you say, "Wishing that this white stuff would go away." Robin on a snowy day." My reworking of "Robin in the Rain" comes with a spring snowfall that seems out of place for April. As I walked by a man scrapping ice off his car, I said, "Looks like winter is back."His reply of, " I sure hope not!" was backed with the knowledge that this snow will not last long. It truly is April, the beginning of spring. There is hope in the knowledge that hard times will not last forever, especially when backed by the truth of seasonal change. Spring always comes after winter and for that I am thankful. There WILL be better days ahead and for that I am hopeful.

When my daughter woke me up with, "Did you already do the papers?", it was irrelevant whether my alarm had ever been set or whether I had sleepily turned it off. What mattered was that the time was one hour later than usual and we still had customers waiting for morning papers. The neighbourhood was so much noisier and fumes from the traffic made breathing difficult. Even the birds' songs seemed to be louder and noisier. Lights were glowing from television sets and every house had signs of life. My quiet morning walk had become a bustling, frenetic journey to simply accomplish a job. Could one hour make that much difference? How aware am I of other delays as they occur? Do I ever see them as blessings in disguise? Often I am frustrated by delays, when I should simply be thankful instead. When my car is narrowly missed by another vehicle by only seconds, I realize what life without that delay might have looked like. I might not be writing these thoughts right now.