Category Archives: Inspiration for daily living

Winter

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Everyone seems to have a favorite season. I gave some thought to this and feel that autumn might be mine. I enjoy the colorful backdrop that the changing leaves provide. I appreciate the chill in the air that has one transition from iced tea to hot tea and also prompts the addition of a blanket to the couch. I find I am lulled into the coziness that the season brings. I think there is something for everyone in every season but as winter’s last hurrah is upon us, I would like to focus on it.

I know those who enjoy winter’s brisk weather. It could be the chance of snow that brings a smile to their face, or possibly the holidays within it. I find I appreciate winter, but maybe for reasons unnoticed by others. I enjoy the lack of vegetation as things that might be hidden in other seasons are now visible. I am always impressed by taking notice of a hawk among the branches of a tree. These majestic birds might want to remain hidden as they watch their prey but I enjoy seeing them sit high and mighty without the cover of leaves. I also appreciate the work that went into creating a squirrel’s large nest. There are condo’s that don’t hold a candle to them. Winter is a time for Mother Nature to show off some creations that go unnoticed through the remainder of the year.

As a tribute to Mother Nature, I play along with her during the winter months. The blanket I introduced to my couch in the fall often finds me under it, enjoying its warmth. I can admire those animals who hibernate through the season. I, too, find I am happy to dig in on the dark, cold nights. A big pot of soup works its wonders as the bounty from the previous seasons creates an aroma that makes you glad your windows are closed and the scent doesn’t quickly escape.

I also think of how our lives mimic the seasons. This can be true where our relationships are concerned. In the spring when all is fresh and new, a heart can be full of anticipation. Planning what plants might be introduced to a barren flower bed is enjoyable. One looks forward to future blossoms. Summer can bring heat and weeds but those issues can all be creatively handled. As the time progresses winter can make itself known. Those can be the gloomy days of a relationship. As in winter, when Mother Nature introduces a barren landscape, so can true feelings be uncovered. I don’t see that as necessarily bad, rather an opportunity for the development of unconditional love. No cover-up, but an acceptance of seeing someone for who they are and loving them, blemishes and all. Unconditional love is such a beautiful gift that we can give one another. A beautiful bouquet grown through commitment. There are never any guarantees but hope springs eternal. Everyone will continue to have their favorite season but if something blossoms into unconditional love then maybe winter isn’t so bad after all.

Random Conversations

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I am one of those people who strangers talk to in a grocery store. I’ve checked and there is no signage on my forehead that invokes conversation. I have often thought I might possess a resting bitch face but if I did, I doubt people would want to talk to me. Those who know me, generally call me a positive individual and perhaps that is the aura or demeanor I project. Either way, it is interesting what a total stranger will offer in conversation. What I have to share is not a scientific study, rather observations made when paying attention to those conversations within a twenty four hour period.

I was making my way through a checkout line on a Friday afternoon. I told the cashier that I was glad the weekend was upon us but I recognized that I wouldn’t feel that way if I worked retail. The cashier, with joy in her voice, said she was going to be off on Saturday. I shared that I was going to take my cat to a vet appointment. She asked if she was sick and I explained that I had adopted her within the past two months and she had severe arthritis. I was taking her in to the vet for her monthly shot. When asked, I did reveal the cost of the care she was being provided. The cashier blessed me for taking the responsibility of pet ownership to heart. It was not lost on me that the next customer also responded, although not with the spoken word. Her eyes bulged out to the point that she reminded me of a cartoon. I had almost expected to hear her actions be accompanied by a sound much like those animated characters, a-wooga. If I was ever looking for an opponent to play poker with, I would select this woman.  I gave no evidence that I witnessed her reaction.

It was clear, the customer behind me, thought I was foolish for the money I was spending on my newly acquired cat. I let it go. The next day I also kept my thoughts to myself when having a brief conversation with one of the attendants at the local dump. I have definite ideas and interest where politics are concerned but I withhold them until I’m in the proper setting. Many who spend time with me on a regular basis probably don’t have a clue where my beliefs lie. I have learned to be polite and keep my mouth shut. It is always wise to choose your battles but it makes no sense to pick a fight with a total stranger. The attendant at the dump would have made it easy. I am still shaking my head over how Groundhog Day could be cloaked in politics. It never fails to amaze me how views can vary. In my opinion, bringing an innocent groundhog into the mix goes beyond the pale.

Not to fear, I won’t leave you with anything but a positive note to end this blog. While I was shopping in a craft and fabric store I saw a woman with the most beautiful bolt of soft fleece. It had shades of turquois, chartreuse, and other colors that would put you in mind of a tropical seascape.  I was drawn to both her and the material. She shared that she was going to make a bed jacket for her sister. Did I know what that was? I certainly did and went on to tell her that I had my mother’s for many years. She correctly guessed that it was made of satin. It was pink satin with lace. She further shared that her mother called them lady linens. It seemed like such a practical type of apparel. How did we get away from wearing something warm over our arms as we read in bed? We both enjoyed our brief walk down memory lane and went on our separate ways.

My thoughts about this very unscientific study seem to be clear. Most people enjoy talking and the topics go far beyond the weather. Just as I have a well-defined perspective on most topics, others do too. It is those diverse opinions that show how we are all unique in our world vision. I believe what might separate us is the ability to filter those thoughts or know when it is appropriate to share them. I will happily go through my day making conversations with strangers on inconsequential topics. If I should come across someone who seems not to respect the ground rules of keeping conversations about politics and religion out of the fray, I will remain polite and let it go. I learned a long time ago that opinions are seldom altered, especially by a brief exchange. I am not easily offended nor do I feel I am a hypocrite but rather an individual who enjoys chatter and banter that leaves a smile. Who needs a scowl, especially if your face were to stick that way?

Timing

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I received my education from the School Sisters of Notre Dame. When I was young, and the most vulnerable, they impressed upon me ideas beyond the typical school subjects. One, stressed in many different ways, was to always remain prayerful. There was a prayer for everything and special times to recite them. If you were to hear the siren of an emergency vehicle, it was cause for prayer. In particular, if it was that of an ambulance, one was to pray for the victim to overcome an illness or survive an accident. I would think that it doesn’t come as a surprise that I still carry that with me to this day. I’m not the least embarrassed to admit that I am prompted to pray for a total stranger during their time of need.

If the nuns assisted in giving me a foundation of prayer, as an adult I have not only claimed that as beneficial but have continued to build upon it. I feel a sense of gratitude that I am not the victim in need of transport by ambulance when I hear one on its way. I don’t have a sense of better you than me.  I have experienced it for myself and know how helpless one feels when your body reminds you that you are not immortal and you are the one on the stretcher taking a bumpy ride to the hospital. It is a sincere feeling of gratitude that I am not experiencing it this time and I pray for the well-being of the individual whose turn it is.

I also have a feeling of gratitude when I realize I avoided some misfortune, possibly due to timing. Again, it is not my wish that anyone suffer but often I have thought that there for the grace of God go I. One recent morning, when ready to head to work, I noticed sleet as I got into the car. I was running late, as usual, but I wasn’t concerned about the state of the roads. A little bit of sleet shouldn’t disrupt travel. As I approached a nearby town the sleet turned to snow and it was quickly laying. I didn’t see any snow plows, nor did the roads look like they were treated. As I approached the mountain I cross daily, I was stopped by a line of vehicles ahead of me. They were blocked at the base of the mountain and I could see flashing lights ahead. The ambulance prompted a prayer and then I offered an additional one of gratitude. If I had been on time, maybe it would have been my car that would have been caught in the collision. There have been several times that an unusual circumstance changed my timing and it left me wondering if I was being protected from harm.

I will share with you the time that I could have been the unfortunate victim. I have a level of comfort when driving in the snow. I don’t wish for it but when it comes I don’t shy away from getting behind the wheel. Upon returning from work one evening, I was close to home on a well-travelled, straight stretch of road. Although I didn’t see it or feel it, I must have hit a patch of ice. The car crossed the line and I found myself staring at oncoming traffic.  I might have tried to correct the direction when the car went into a spin. There was nothing I could do to stop the momentum. It was literally time for Jesus to take the wheel. Soon I found myself in my original lane but was facing the vehicles that were initially behind me. At that point I slid off the road, down into a slight ditch and finally came to a stop. I was inches away from hitting a telephone pole. There was barely any time to catch my breath when someone knocked on my window and asked if he could help. Although he was wearing a trapper hat with the ear flaps down, I still can remember what he looked like. His curly ginger hair was visible under the brim of his hat and his eyes were a bluish gray, his face sprinkled with freckles. I was in no position to refuse help and he quickly went to the rear of the car and pushed me out of the hollow and back onto the road. Although he appeared to be slight in build it took him no time at all to push the car out of the ditch and back onto the road. I was shaking but continued on and, when at a safe spot, turned around to go my original direction. I instantly thought that I should have thanked him for his kindness but it all happened so quickly. I passed the spot where I had gone off the road and there was no sign of him. Initially I thought I was so fortunate that during a snow storm there happened to be someone out in a cow pasture, right where I was to go off the road. What were the odds? Was it timing or something else? In hindsight I realize that my car returning to the road without tires spinning in the snow or additional assistance to push the car up and out appears to be rather unusual. Then I question what others around me might have witnessed.

Years later, I have deemed the experience as miraculous. I wasn’t granted the timing to stay removed from peril yet I was kept from harm during a potentially dangerous event. It was an answer to prayer that I barely had the time to utter. The experience was more than a decade ago yet I can relive it in my mind as if was yesterday. I have come to understand that there are things that life sends us which are beyond our control. There can be events where timing is on our side and others when that may not be the case. Although it might appear that there is no rhyme or reason, it is all part of the human experience. Let’s hold on tight and see what timing might bring us next.

Happy New Ice Cream

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Now that we are well ensconced in 2024, I have a confession to make.  I have never been one to get excited about celebrating the New Year. My contention is that if you had no calendar or clock, there would be no way to tell one year from the next. I know that sounds cynical and nonsensical. I don’t feel that way about other holidays. It could be because their focus is not specifically based on time. Maybe I didn’t always feel this way but long gone is my childhood tradition of watching Guy Lombardo ring the New Year in on television. If that doesn’t make sense to you, I suggest you google it. No, I am one who stays home, safe and warm, as another year rolls in and the last becomes history. Even though I don’t have the desire to celebrate, I find I must witness the change. It feels like my civic duty to oversee the event.

As in all aspects of life, attitude plays its part in how we view things. Watching the ball drop on television, or any other media, gives you the impression that it is so large that it must light up all of Times Square. I have actually seen the ball, in place prior to the New Year celebration, and it didn’t look huge. It actually looked dwarfed by its position on the building. This year I had the feeling that the performer wasn’t finished singing as the descent of the ball began. I might be the only one who was annoyed by what appeared to be an example of poor time management. I don’t feel that is the optimum way to start a new year, especially when the focus is upon the last minutes of the outgoing year.

I have a solution for myself and anyone else who might feel the need to make this holiday a bit more palatable. Let’s make the New Year ice cream and proceed that way. Incorporating sweaters and blankets might be needed rather than hats and noisemakers but I think we can meet everyone’s expectations. I fear there could be a select population that might not be fans of the idea. I personally hope my suggestion doesn’t alienate anyone.

I have heard, how you spend New Year’s Eve, is an indication of what to anticipate for the following 365 days. There are decisions to be made. How do you want your ice cream? Are you going to play it safe and have it served in a cup or are you going to incorporate a little bit of risk into your choice? If you go with a cone you not only get the ice cream but the additional treat of the cone. Are you courageous enough to take the chance? Yes, it could get messy, just like life, but there are napkins along with soap and water to help correct the situation. Another thought, as you prepare to celebrate Happy New Ice Cream, give some consideration to the flavor you select. Are you going to choose your favorite flavor or try something new? Your tried and true favorite might be a safe way to go and you will know what to expect. If you consider stepping outside your comfort zone and try another flavor, it might bring your taste buds excitement and sheer happiness. You never know unless you try. The decision of how you want your ice cream is entirely yours.

I doubt my suggestion will take the country by storm. Even though you won’t find me at a party reveling, I do believe that the New Year offers us all a fresh start. Resolutions aren’t required but meeting each day with anticipation and purpose will make it more appetizing. My wish for you would be the ability to look back and see that you not only had a delicious year but you might realize it was topped with sprinkles, or better yet, with whipped cream and a cherry. Now, you must excuse me. For some reason I feel the need to go to Dairy Queen.

Time Has Passed

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On a recent Saturday, during this holiday season, I couldn’t help but reflect on how life constantly changes. So often we are called to resurrect old traditions as we gather and celebrate and yet sometimes we choose to keep them tucked away. Time can show us that what was once the norm can be replaced with something more currently appropriate. Memories can become a tangle of events, possibly never sorted through or offered the light of day again. There are times, like this particular Saturday, when a memory strikes a nerve and one must acknowledge that it is just that, a memory and time has passed.

My career has centered mainly on nonprofits. Many times I witnessed how volunteers would be the lifeline of these organizations. During my tenure I have worked side by side with those called to generously share their time and talents. During a shopping excursion, on this particular Saturday, I thought I spotted a former volunteer. It has been at least 20 years since we held our positions and worked together. I momentarily held back but as I was sure it was him I did decide to call his name.  I was met with a smile and a warm embrace. There was the usual exchange of pleasantries and a quick catch up on what we were currently involved in, career wise. I shared with him how I have never forgotten an event where he provided service above and beyond what was expected. Although he was humble in his response, it felt good to share that particular memory. After our parting, I recalled the energy and passion I possessed while in my role. Time has passed. I may currently support programs which benefit the community but it is now from a different vantage point. Then I was ready to lead the charge, currently I remain conscientious in my role but the drive to lead has subsided.

Later in the evening I went to the cemetery where my parents are buried to see the annual luminaria display. The landscape was aglow as each grave had a candle lit in memory of those who have passed. I parked the car and walked to my parents’ grave. There was a young couple with their son visiting the grave located above my parents. They lingered and in the darkness I didn’t know if they were aware I was behind them. Concerned that I might startle them I advised them I was there. Conversation was not lengthy but I learned her father had made his transition in 2009. Judging from her current age, it appeared that she must have been young when she lost him. Not being able to ease the grief she must still carry, I invited her to use my family’s marble bench whenever she visited her father. The loss of my parents is not fresh and the grief is not as intense as it was originally. Time has passed. I realized I am at the point in my life where it is my generation that has stepped up to fill the void. A lifetime of experience and memories can fill one’s soul. Forward movement, no matter what the pace, is always important.

On my way home that evening, I passed the house where I lived in my early adult years. It was the home where I resided as a newlywed and as a new mother it was the home where I brought our son.  It was also the home I inhabited when I realized my marriage was over. Although it looks much the same as it did years ago, time has passed. If I were to stop and cross the porch and threshold as I did thousands of times previously, I would be met with resistance. The current owners are oblivious to the lifetime I spent there. The conversations held and the breaths taken are long gone. There is no reason to resurrect the dreams that were once held close to my heart as I am a different person now. I am content to leave them where they lie.

It felt ironic that a particular Saturday, during this holiday season, could impose the reality of the passage of time and the losses it has wrought. I am proud of the accomplishments I achieved while I climbed the proverbial ladder of success. The view was invigorating while I was there but I am satisfied with my current vision. My parents might no longer be here physically but the memories of them remain strong and the lessons they taught continue to resonate. I am cognizant that I must carry the torch for them. It has been several years since I lived in a household with others. I am very much accustomed to being responsible for all aspects of my life. Time has passed. Every day brings a fresh start. It is important to choose what part of the past is no longer serving us and pack it away. It is never truly gone but by putting it aside one allows a newness to enter and keep stagnation at bay.   

My wish for you, during this holiday season, would be to create lasting memories with your loved ones. Hopefully these memories will remain with you and are light to carry.  If that isn’t possible, treat yourself well and hold hope for the New Year. Time will pass. I hope what you choose to carry with you is well worth the energy it takes to pack and it brings you joy as you continue on your way.

Solitary

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What makes us who we are? Is it heredity, environment, experiences or innate personality? This question has resonated with me various times in my life. I often feel that I fall in the minority of what most consider the norm. None of us should exhibit cookie cutter uniformity and our uniqueness should be celebrated. That being said, being content within one’s choices may come into question by those who choose another path.

For the last twenty years I have walked solo through life. This comes as a result of divorce. It’s not that I am against relationships. I dated and married. My son and I are close, my immediate and extended family care for one another and I have a large and varied circle of friends. Yet for the past two decades I have not had a romantic relationship. To be honest, I looked around when I was newly divorced and spent some time cruising through the dating sites, yet I could not bring myself to seriously pursue it. It might have been the expected activity but throughout my life I have always bristled at following the standard.

I could safely say that I would have been considered a tom boy. I thought my future was to either join the Navy, following in my father’s footsteps, or be the first female player for the Baltimore Orioles. The second would have never happened for many reasons but mainly because I was no athlete. I did have a sense of propriety as I matured. I chose not to take typing in high school as I knew I didn’t want the role of being someone’s secretary. The ability to type was remedied later as it is difficult to exist in the professional realm or as a writer without having command of the keyboard. As I look back at this time in my life I see where I was laying the foundation of individuality.

I would like to return to my original question. What elements in life contribute to one’s personality? I evidently never saw a wedding as a glorious event to dream about starting early in life. When I turned eight a friend gave me a bride doll. She was about six inches tall, covered in what appeared to be a satin and lace gown. As a miniature bride, she was showcased in a cardboard box with a cellophane front. The doll stood before a fancy backdrop and that is where she would stay. I remember those at my birthday party being envious of such a beautiful doll but it did nothing for me. She would never have the opportunity to escape her display and mingle with my Barbie and all her friends.

I was responsible for the fate of my bride doll and I continue to fashion my own. I don’t let life stop as a result of not having a significant other. I go to concerts solo and have the realization that I am there to see the performance and not to chat with someone sitting next to me. I take vacations without a travel partner. My house is decorated as I like yet there are times when I think it would be nice to have someone else living under the same roof. Those times are few and far between. Honestly, the only time I have felt that way would be the times I had to step up to do something undesirable. The removal of a black snake from my dining room was one such time.

Is my choice of a solo lifestyle so unusual? I can recall my late mother often saying that she wish I had someone in my life. I appreciated her love and concern. I also recognized she was part of a generation where you married and your husband took care of you. I am grateful that I am not bound by those constraints. When I look in the mirror I see an independent and courageous woman. I can appreciate someone as being attractive or an interesting conversationalist but I don’t need to have another individual in my life to feel whole. I am not critical of those who do seek to share their life with someone. I revel in their joy when they find that special person and admire their dedication and commitment. We are all on a personal journey and the path we follow should be our own. It may be cliché’ but the time tested practice of live and let live should be embraced. Our passage through this life will be so much more rewarding if we follow the course meant for us and let others navigate theirs.

Behind the Door

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Our father was career Navy and he had a very sea intensive rate. Toward the end of his career he was able to secure a billet opening as a recruiter. It was during this period that our parents felt like it was time to relocate and permanently move to this new location. They thought it would a good place to raise children. A search for a house was undertaken and they chose the home where our roots were planted and we were raised. I was too young to appreciate it at the time but I have the suspicion that it might have been considered a fixer-upper. We settled in and shortly found expansion was needed. Our youngest brother made his entrance and our grandfather came to live with us. Thus began the constant renovation and repair that kept our father busy.

One major transformation that took place was the expansion and enclosure of the upstairs back porch. My father fashioned it into a dorm-like room for my three brothers. I, being the only girl, had the benefit of having my own room. The walls were covered with a juvenile print that remained in place much too long. My room also held the entrance to the attic. The door hid the enclosed steps and created a bit of an alcove. At one point my desk took up residence in that opening. Although my father had spent time picking up this unfinished piece of furniture, covering the top with laminate and staining the remainder, it wasn’t used all that often. I preferred to do my homework sitting on my bed. For years I had no desire to be close to that door.

The house is just over a hundred years old now but it always seemed older. The access to the attic didn’t allow for use beyond storage. As you would walk up the steps you would need to lean in and hunch over to reach the actual floor space. There was such a steep pitch to the roof line at that point that no one with any height could traverse it without earning a severe bump to the head. The chimney rose up through the middle and boxes of seasonal decorations and other items took up space on the wooden floor. A bare light bulb, hanging from above, was needed if you went up after dark but it was much more comfortable to go up during the day and make use of the natural light the windows provided. There was another reason I chose not to go up into the attic at night, one that I presumed would keep me safe. I learned something treacherous would be found behind the door at night.

My one brother spun a tale, so believable, that I had no doubt it was true: a hunchback lived in our attic. By the nature of his being, this creature was both cunning and devious. His focus, as I understood, would be to continue to live in our home without detection. As much as I might protest his existence, my brother had a convincing reply to every one of my utterances. I never saw any sign of him in the attic space. I was told that he vacates the space during the day. He would climb out my window and onto the roof that covered the front porch. He would grasp for a branch from the maple tree which would allow him to climb down the rest of the way. He would have returned by nightfall, when he would slip down the steps and into my bedroom while I slept. I found it unsettling to hear how he would stand over my bed and drool. My brother thought it was incredible that I wasn’t aware of the residue on my sheets and blankets. Surprisingly, there was no validity to this story. I smile now to think about how gullible I was and how creative my brother was to provide such a convincing tale. It makes for a terrific story now, often told with a great amount of laughter. The hunchback, that I dreaded all those years, has now taken up residency in the crawl space under my house. I have no doubt it is true as I was informed of this development, again, by my brother.

These days my brother shares other bits of wisdom with me. It is he who has told me that worry is paying for a debt that seldom comes due. I think fear might work the same way. For years I feared the hunchback, when in reality he was only a figment of imagination. There was no danger in opening the attic door at night. I might not have missed any opportunities by not going into the attic after dark but there have been times in life that I felt apprehension about what was on the other side of the door. Life isn’t as frivolous as a game show that has you make a choice between doors number one, two or three. Often it does nudge you forward through a figurative door and into new territory. Fear, a natural emotion, can become a hindrance. I am not proposing that one moves forward without thought or by taking dangerous risks but don’t let the weight of fear rob you of new possibilities and growth. It takes courage to open the door and perseverance to walk through it. Don’t be frightened if that door appears to slam behind you. Let the gust it creates boost your forward movement and continue to carry you onward with additional support.

Season Changes

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I have been home, recovering from surgery, for two months. While recuperating, I realized that life has continued and my lack of participation has not stopped the march of time. I missed the end of the summer season. The farm stands that offered corn, watermelon and cantaloupes now are full of pumpkins and squash.  The lush green canopy of trees have become swirling red, yellow and orange leaves, providing a colorful carpet upon the ground. There have even been changes in my personal life. Prior to returning to work I decided it was time for a new hair style. I am now revisiting my short and curly look. There is one more obvious change in my life; for the first time in over thirty five years, I have no cat underfoot.

I don’t plan on making this a memorial to Scout, but I do want to share a bit about her. When I purchased my home eighteen years ago, she turned up in my yard. Whenever I was outside she would be there, bouncing and jumping around. For being such a tiny kitten she was spending her time with the big cats as part of a feral colony. I was not looking for another cat as I already had two residing with me. I reconsidered when thinking about the age of one, who was nineteen at the time. I thought for sure I would lose her sometime in the near future and rescuing Scout would allow me to return to life with two cats again. My elderly cat lived to see twenty two. For several years I was the crazy cat lady with three cats.  

Scout spent years unapologetically continuing to show her feral roots. She was often referred to as the invisible cat as she would make herself scarce if I had visitors. During her life with me she shared space with a total of three other different cats and she was left when it was time for each of them to cross the Rainbow Bridge. For the last two years of her life, she was my “one and only” and she easily adapted to life without competition for food and affection. She finally came out of her shell and acknowledged that she was comfortable with receiving attention from my guests. In the past two months, as I recuperated, she had been my constant companion. I noticed her weight loss but attributed it to the fact that she had reached the age of eighteen and time was taking its toll.

I think that there is something to human psychology and spending time together that has you overlook gradual changes. Those who have not seen someone for a period of time can readily pick up on them. Scout continued to lose weight and yet her appetite increased. I didn’t initially notice as she maintained her normal routine. She would wake me each morning and would talk to me as she led me into the kitchen. She was affectionate as ever and I would pet her, listen to her purr but I could feel her bones under her skin. Her coat remained shiny and silky. A vet visit confirmed that her organs were well but she had developed a mass. I knew that a tough decision lay ahead of me. I resented the fact that I had to return to work. If I remained home I could monitor her and not feel like I was cutting her life short.

I finally came to the conclusion that I was denying the true state of her health and wasn’t doing her any favors by not taking the responsible steps. I continued to vacillate until the final moments. Once she was gone I realized that I had a sense of relief. She loved me unconditionally and trusted me. For years she knew she would be fed and the litter box would be clean. She knew she would be safe, warm and loved. This was the final step in our relationship. The change I dreaded has happened and I go on. There is positive side, I realize that the loss of Scout allows me to offer a safe haven to another homeless cat in the future. I also recognize there is a greater lesson. Sometimes the changes we dread the most, propel us to a new environment filled with opportunity and unexpected rewards and goodness. The loss of a loved one creates a figurative void in our hearts. I have come to understand that grief can expand your heart to a point that it feels like it will burst. It feels as if it has been stretched, creating an even larger void.  When the time is right, there is a possibility that we can be blessed by something else that will fill that void. It won’t be the same, nor should it. As we continue to live and breathe, our hearts are still beating and capable of love. It’s up to us to be open to it.