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A Curly Lock of Hair

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The Laughing Boy -Frans Hals (Art Museum Mauritshuis) I took pic in The Hague, Netherlands with Holden I hold a little blue box With joy. A locket of hair. Its browns and golds sparkle In the light. When you were three You asked your mom to cut your hair. It floored her you know. A show of your independence. A show of her act of love. For your mom to snip your curls.   Like flecks of gold Cut away from a Byzantine Art piece. When you get to be 8 or 9 years old I’ll ask you,   “ Do you want to see a treasure?” “Of course, Nanna, show me! ” I’ll have you follow me. You’ll watch expectantly as I pull out a small blue box. Before I open it, I’ll pause. For your full attention. “This is so precious.”     I’ll say as I hug it to my heart. My eyes will make sure they reach yours. I’ll reverently open the box. “It’s hair!”  You'll most likely say with disgust. “It’s your three-year-old self’s curl,”   I’ll reply with a smile. “Your Mom let me keep one.” “Aw, Nanna,...
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I'm Not Sick, I'm Dying

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Ever since my son-in-law said death was like birth it has spun around in my head bouncing back and forth. To me it seemed like the exact opposite. Until I looked at it from an illness view-point it felt like the comparison wasn’t accurate. My mom is at the end of her life. She’s passing and she is not ill. Her body is done and her mind has wrapped itself around the facts. She said “I’m done” last week. Not her being done with curing an illness, getting better and living another ten years. Done with treating this time in her life as an illness and going from emergency room, back home and soon to emergency room again. Blood draws, X-rays, Infusions, urine samples new meds, new advice for her and her caregivers. She asked her doctor to be referred to Hospice. She asked more than once. More than one nurse, doctor, social worker. She shouldn’t have to voice this wish of hers. Her body resonates “I’m passing on”. Her every movement, pain, fatigue, difficulties with everything.   She’s wa...
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Ahhhhh....My Taste Buds Will Never Be the Same!

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Elizabeth Walking in Galata Cihanger Traveling in Turkey has kept me from being able to access the internet.  I have SO many things to show and write about, too many for this short blog entry today.  The internet I have today is only in the hotel lobby.  I can't even access it in the evening in my room.  If I close down the computer, I have to put all the info in again to log on.  It's a pain, but it is what it is, here. Elizabeth Working on Her Calendar in a Small Cafe I spent three days with my daughter, Elizabeth, in Galata and Cihanger.  Elizabeth booked us in a beautiful hotel.  The beds, the pillows, the shower, everything was luxurious. Our Fancy Hotel Wall and Bed Small Demonstration on Istaklal I was happy to go on an interview, one day with her in another part of Istanbul.  I had planned to look over the area and sit in a cafe, while she was with th...
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