Four Months of Four Walls

Residents of the nursing home where my mother lives look glum these days. In this season of never-ending snowfalls, most of them are imprisoned here. With their wheelchairs and walkers it’s just too risky to venture out on slippery sidewalks and clogged streets.

As she overhears a conversation about the mountains of snow, Mother says, “I want summer.” Incapacitated as she is, even she needs a change of scene. I wheel her to the other side of the floor to hear the caged budgies sing. Like the people in this place, the birds’ greatest comfort is often each other.

Montrealers are all talking about the weather. We’ve broken snowfall records from 30 to 50 years ago and with more on the way in the coming days, will reach an all-time high. I tell myself, “This too will pass.” By the end of March it will be too warm for anything but rain.

To break the monotony of the indoor world, I head downtown to browse the stores. Tomorrow it will again be impossible to travel – they’re announcing two more feet of snow.

Chocolates, Anyone?

On my way home, I see a Forest Gump quote scrawled in blue marker on the bus seat in front of me: “Life is like a box of chocolates.” The unwritten part is, “You never know what you’re gonna get.”

Isn’t that true? To experience anything we need to open the box, choose something in a wrapper and take a bite. It can be soft and chewy… or we can chip a tooth on a hard piece of caramel.

Often the chocolates with all the swirls that look so tempting can disappoint us. Maybe the career we chose did not pan out or the relationship that started out with such high hopes did not last. That doesn’t mean they weren’t worth pursuing – only that we may have to try a few things before we know what we really want.

It’s all about choices. Every decision we make leads us closer to something that works for us.

As I get older, I take more care with the things and people I choose. There’s less time ahead of me, and I want it to count. One day that box of chocolates will be empty (yes, the second layer, too!) and I will finally toss it aside.

Until then, I will try all the pieces that appeal. I will savour each one before going on to the next. I will enjoy every flavour – light or dark, sweet or bitter – and keep in mind that nothing lasts, no matter how much I want it to.

A Wicked Wind

I am standing at a downtown street corner, waiting for the light to change. The wind chill reads -28 ° Celsius – giving the kind of bite that bores into your bones. Still, I’m glad to be here after so many days/weeks/months writing the novel. A new hotel has gone up opposite the building where I used to work.

I remember glancing out my office window as I sorted through paperwork and answered phones. And how I envied people who were free to stroll in the sunshine or sit on the terrace, chatting the afternoon away with friends.

Now I am one of those people, living according to my own schedule. It’s great being able to sleep in on winter mornings such as this, but I really do best when I’m focused and have a purpose. These days the writing has that effect on me – bringing new insights and character twists almost daily. I’ve never written fantasy before and the story is spinning in directions I didn’t anticipate.

The wind hurts my face at this temperature. I pull up my hood, snuggle a little deeper into my coat, and walk on. It’s easier to tolerate the cold knowing that spring is one day closer.

Sunshine in Winter

In Montreal, we’ve been walloped by three major snowstorms in a four-week period. All told, at least five feet of the white fluffy stuff came to clog our streets and exercise our shovels. Then along came a January thaw and rain. Half the snow drifts disappeared and I could not only see pavement again, I could see grass! Now the bitter cold is back and we’re facing a few more months of what seems like an endless winter.

Life is like that sometimes. You are in a period where every day feels like an effort. You wonder when you will finally emerge from your current financial/ relationship/ career/ health woes.

What helps is keeping a gratitude journal. Whenever I have a few moments, I jot down three things for which I am thankful. These are specifics. For example, today’s entries:

● I am grateful for the glorious sunshine – nourishing all my indoor plants.

● I appreciate the opportunity to work on my novel.

● I am thankful that I am able to get around town without owning a vehicle.


I also consider “3 beautiful things” I saw during the day. This allows me to appreciate the splendour of the world around me. I often include flowers, wild life or other aspects of nature such as a rosy sunset. I also see beauty in someone’s smile or in the posture of a poodle as it prances down the street.

If you are in a slog, I suggest you start your own gratitude journal. Just thinking about what’s working in your life will lift your spirits. An added bonus: looking back and seeing all the good stuff you’ve experienced.

Just Do It!

We all have behaviour we would like to change or adopt – which is how New Year’s resolutions came into being. How many of us start the year with earnest plans to lose weight, get more fit, stop smoking or something similar? Yet resolutions often fail. That’s because our old habits are deeply ingrained and it takes at least 15 days to establish new behaviour.

I’ve been meaning to meditate for a long time now. It seems I’m always too busy or too tired to take twenty minutes to sit and clear my head. This evening I finally did just that – and feel great.

I know all about the benefits of meditation. I need the self-discipline that a focused state of mind can bring; I also need the peace and calmness. Yet for months I put it off.

What helps is saying “I choose” this. I like to meditate. I choose to make it a daily practice. I know if I stick with it long enough, it will become a habit. My resistance will eventually fade.

What about you? Is there something you hold off doing that’s important to you? Make a decision and then start small. Don’t feel bad about needing a little push. The critical thing is to take the first step. You’ll immediately feel better about yourself … and that alone makes it worthwhile.

Slipping Away at Christmas

City streets are piled with snow and sidewalks slick with ice as I make my way to the nursing home. I learn that another resident has passed away just before Christmas. I did not know him very well but certainly saw him around. This seems to happen every year, people checking out of this life before the holidays. Maybe celebrations on the Other Side are more fun… and maybe there are others there who beckon.

My mother manages to eat her lunch today, chewing slowly. She opens her eyes for a split second and recognizes me. The rest of my visit, she remains with eyes closed, unable to process the images around her. All the same, she makes the effort to answer my questions with a "Yeah" or a "No." She tells me she is okay.

Part of her has slipped away – I can see it on her face. Peaceful now. As long as she is not in pain, I am glad to be with her. Seeing her lose all her functioning has been the most difficult thing in my life. Yet she is 88 years old, has lived with Alzheimer’s Disease for the last 9 and it is almost time to go.

I have never found goodbyes easy but there is a finality to physical death that makes it twice as hard. I believe she will continue to exist in another dimension and will probably try to let me know that she is okay. That’s all the reassurance I need.

Right now every moment is precious because I never know which breath will be her last. And Christmas songs, with all the nostalgia they bring, have never sounded so bittersweet.

Footprints in the Sand

The sun has barely risen over rooftops on the beach – yet several footprints are already scattered across the sand. Some run in the same direction as mine as I walk south.

The crashing of the surf and the cries of gulls fill my senses. A small white tern dives into the waves for breakfast as a rosy glow steals across the sky.

I’m glad for every day on the Gulf, where it’s warm and sunny. St. Pete Beach in winter is one of my favourite spots. The evening news brings more stories of snow and ice storms lashing across Canada and the USA. Apart from a tropical escape, what brings me here this time around is setting research for my novel. Today I catalogue names and descriptions of hotels and other landmarks along the beach. A grueling task but I’m up to the challenge!

By noon the footprints have multiplied, crisscrossing the sand at random. The tide rushes in now and obliterates many of them.

It strikes me that our lives are just as fleeting. How many have gone before us? How many will follow? The only lasting impression we can make, it seems, is in the hearts and minds of those we leave behind.

(written Dec. 7, 2007)