vino volo newark

To get to where you need to go, the journey might not always be an elegant one. At times you will fall back on your sleep hours or forego food in order to ensure you are on time. In my case, it meant both. No food. Until I arrived at the airport. No sleep. Not one single wink. That is until I sat on the first plane to Houston. I feared if I slept even two or three hours it would be more difficult to awaken from a deep slumber.

On the flight from Houston to Newark, I intended to sleep the entire flight. Thirst and hunger cried out for me to quiet their desperate pleas. The Texas-sized currant scone I bought at the Austin airport was still in my pocket, on its way to dissolving into crumbs. It was a far cry from the scones at lovecrumbs in Edinburgh. But it was the only food I had with me other than a banana I brought from home.

austin airport

Since I was now in a temporary state of awakeness, I turned on the screen on the back of my seat instead. I wondered if there would be anything interesting to watch on this short flight as watching movies on long flights is something I tend to do in lieu of sleep. The title of one movie intrigued me due to my destination: "A Coffee in Berlin". What fascinated me most was the fact the movie was shot entirely in black and white. Stripped of colour, the story showed more depth, more soul, more of what is behind the eyes staring back at us from the screen.

"A Coffee in Berlin" (originally titled "Oh Boy") follows the story of Niko - a young man trying to figure out a life where he doesn't quite fit in. The substory is his never-ending pursuit of a cup of coffee, the ensuing disappointment of which is well-woven throughout the movie. The movie starts by him being dumped by his girlfriend. It moves on to his being harassed by two men pretending to be subway ticket agents. Then he was confronted by a former fat girl turned skinny girl - yet still psychotic. He dropped out of law school to "think" for two years, whilst his father kept sending monthly tuition money. The story is nothing close to a Hollywood movie. There is no happy ending. No perfect wrapping up of the storyline as there really is no storyline. It is everyday life and the black and white aspect of it is a perfect choice.

So begins my quest. My pursuit of the next chapter in my strange but interesting life as I get ready to board my third plane...the one to Berlin.

newark airport windows


bed stu boots
‘Twas the day before travel, when throughout all the house
persevering hands and feet were bustling about.

On the verge of travel, on the threshold of adventure. So the journey begins.

There is great satisfaction in a job well done. Knowing we've done all we could in the amount of time allotted. Though not everything is perfect, we realise it's the best we can do in this moment. Next time will be better.

The excitement of someplace new, somewhere other than our own home. Going out of our comfort zone into a world more vast than the walls of our homes. Such is the euphoria of travel despite the oft delays and inconveniences. 

Moving forward without looking back. Living life to the fullest. On the threshold of life we sometimes stand wishing for life to come to us instead of simply going out and embracing it with full force.


cinnamon pool

For a while, I wondered which activity interested my middle child. Her older sister showed a penchant for fashion design at the age of four whilst her younger brother exceled at building puzzles and Lego structures prior to attending preschool. It wasn't until this summer I realised Cinnamon's beloved activity - swimming.

Cinnamon has taken quite well to swimming. This past summer I observed and photographed her and her siblings during swimming lessons in Berlin. Every morning we made our way through the maze of U-Bahns, stairs, and surface streets to get to their outdoor pool location. On the second day of my four-day trip, we ended up taking the U2 in the opposite direction instead of the U7 as I relied on Saffron's instructions. This ended up in Sage tripping and bumping his head, whilst holding my hand, as we ran to minimize our lateness.

This week I observed Cinnamon learning the various strokes in the 30-minute lessons she's been getting from a private trainer. I smiled when I heard the instructor tell my daughter she was very disciplined when it came to her carrying out his instructions. The most used phrase was "bubble arm, breathe arm" as she made her way numerous time across the lap pool and back.

breathe arm

Earlier in the week, as Sage and I were relaxing by the pool during Cinnamon's lesson, I showed him ballet performances by men on my iPhone and pointed out how they could fly through the air. I have been trying to convince my son to take up a sport - any sport - though quite unsuccessfully. Flying seemed to intrigue him to the point where he was asking when he will be attending ballet so he could fly through the air. He also wanted to know if he would be wearing costumes.

After the lesson that day, the discussion ensued between brother and sister about boys wearing dresses. Cinnamon insisted boys did not get to wear dresses during ballet class. As their discussion continued and we made our way home, I was amazed to see the contrast of their talents and glad my sporty spice girl is now doing what she loves.

sage bright sun


sunset october

As the sun set on this Thursday night, the day-long battle of the lawnmowers, trimmers, edgers, and grass blowers was finally over. Prior to the landscaping company arriving, the construction workers played with their equipment. I look forward to the time when construction is completed in this community. Despite the noise, I managed to get two more hours of sleep after walking the kids to the bus stop. The rest of the day was spent recovering from the sudden illness of yesterday and contemplating minimalism.

Whilst in bed, I read through comments posted on the article about the stay-at-home mom who realised she was a "luxury" to her spouse. Though we could debate the pros and cons ad nauseum, an important aspect of the case for staying home with small children is having a supportive spouse. One who believes you add value to the family. One who supports you emotionally, believes in you, is there for you, and loves you for the person you are and will be. People change as years progress. The key is to adapt to the change.

At one point, I had to click away from the distraction but wondered how I could continue to be there for my children despite my no longer being a spouse, rather a single parent with no income. Savings takes one only so far. One solution which came to mind is downsizing the living space. An article that furthered this thought was one I perused on the Houzz site yesterday morning. One entitled "6 Mental Tricks to Outsmart Your Small Space". All six points were enticing, including the tiny-home movement and especially the last one, "Pretend It's a Vacation Rental".

One of my favourite vacation rentals abroad is Greyfriar's Attic in Edinburgh. I've been there twice in the past year and would love to return sometime in the future. What enticed me most was the coziness of the sloped attic roof, the light from the skylight, and the window seat in the bedroom. The central location is most ideal with the view of Edinburgh castle from the dining area and the streets of city centre within a short walk.  I could live in such a place despite its small size and because of its minimalism.

I recall how my children adapted well to the minimalistic vacation rentals in Berlin. Living in one-bedroom apartments was sufficient for them as it is for many families around the world. It seems only in America have we become accustomed to the notion of needing more space. All at the sacrifice of working longer hours and leaving child-rearing in the hands of strangers. Albeit I have never fancied the notion of a nanny raising my children, I realise some people have no other choice. Cities with higher costs of living, such as New York and San Francisco, offer little choice but for parents to work. In the meantime, my search for flexible employment will continue. If the option is available, sacrificing living space for the opportunity to be present for my children as long as they are still young is worth considering.


lego map

As I grabbed hold of Sage's hand tonight, I noticed it was cooler than mine. He did too. I put his hand on my forehead and he exclaimed, "Mama! You're hot!" The fever started earlier this morning and has not yet subsided. From the time I dropped off the children at the bus stop until it was time to pick them up at noon, due to it being a half-day today, I stayed in bed and slept as much as the illness allowed me to sleep. Chills accompanied me throughout the day despite my having been curled up under the down comforter. Nausea and abdominal pain followed shortly thereafter.

Upon our return home, I told the children I needed to lie down some more. "I love taking care of tebe", voiced Sage ("tebe" is "you" in Croatian). "It's nice", he continued. So, both of the children pretended to be nurses, taking care of me in between their building a "medicine house", as Sage explained. Every 10 to 15 minutes, nurse Sage would walk over to me and give me medicine in the form of water. A few minutes later, nurse Cinnamon would rush over to take the bottle of water away and return it to its place on the floor. At times they argued over who got to administer the medicine, but the system in place seemed to work well. They proved they could play nice together.

cinnamon up hairdo

This stomach flu, if that's what this is, could not have come at a more inconvenient time as I will be departing for Berlin early Sunday morning. Saffron called on Skype this afternoon and was able to see her siblings due to their early release day. She let me know she's packed her bag and is anxiously awaiting my arrival. I wish I could say I was ready but two illnesses this week served as hindrances to my plans.

Albeit today was another setback, I have confidence tomorrow will be a better day.



kids and legos

Innocence and simplicity. Life starts out with the bare essentials. The elementary necessities of survival - food, shelter, clothing. Somewhere along the way we set about to accumulate more, believing we need more in order to have a fulfilled life. Before long, simplicity becomes complexity whilst innocence turns to corruption and eventual dissatisfaction of some aspect of life. At that moment, we lose sight of what it means to truly enjoy life.

cinnamon legos

Saturday morning as I was sitting at The Hideout Coffeehouse downtown and enjoying my flat white coffee and pumpkin muffin, I noticed a man and his son at a neighboring table. The boy must have been perhaps 9 or 10 years old and was busy explaining something to his father in a most enthusiastic manner. I heard the conversation but did not listen. I merely observed the gestures of the boys' hands as they waved about. He was excited to explain to his attentive father his latest thoughts. I smiled as I witnessed this experience. Albeit I was not tuned in to the words the boy was saying, the son's fervour spoke volumes. 

At that moment, I wondered at which age we lose the joy and spirit we once had as children. The time in our lives which were once simple and innocent. A time when we possessed the carefree nature of an unjaded heart and an inquisitive mind. When everything seemed possible and we viewed the world as an endless stream of possibilities.   

Children need far less than we think they do. Even less than we lead them to believe they do. They need not a room filled with toys, electronics to keep them passively entertained, or endless extracurricular activities which take time away from their thoughts. What children need most of all - beyond the elementary necessities - is love and an attentive ear to listen to their impassioned cries of joy and enthusiasm. To help build confidence and develop their inquisitive minds.

sage catchlights bw


sick boy bw

The darkness enveloped us this morning whilst the gusty wind nipped at our clothes as we made our way to the bus stop. In the distance, flashes of lightning broke through the darkness at regular intervals bringing with it the jolting thunder and the impending rain as Cinnamon and I watched from afar. Her brother would not be joining her on the journey to school today. As she walked towards the open doors, she whispered: "You have to take care of Sagey". The kindness in her heart was touching. She waved goodbye and climbed aboard.

It started as his reluctance to get out of bed, even after having gone to bed by 7:30 the night before. At breakfast, Sage was taking longer than usual to get started eating his vanilla yogurt with granola. He mentioned he felt hot but I imagined he was trying to get out of going to school - particularly since he voiced his dislike of school yesterday morning. I finally let him go get ready seeing how we had 15 minutes until the bus was to arrive.

Then the whimpering in the distance. At the top of the stairs. That's when I knew he was serious about not feeling well. Sage sat on the top stair not saying a word. "Do you have to puke?" I asked him. I told him to run to the bathroom. He didn't make it in time but luckily I was there with my hand. I realise how unpleasant that might sound to some, but when you're a parent you get used to these things.

A sick child is a fact of life at this time of year as children attend school and are exposed to other children who are ill. I decided to keep Sage home and spend time with him. My plans for the day could wait until tomorrow. I laid down next to him and we slept for a short while. As I was drifting off to a deeper sleep, I heard "Mama, look!". Sage was looking out the window at the rainbow - a double rainbow, as it turned out. The last time I'd seen a double rainbow was long ago in Ireland. There one can witness many rainbows.

"I want to touch the rainbow!", exclaims Sage. "I want to be in the rainbow", he continues. We walked outside on the porch to take a closer look. Children show us the beauty in the little things in life. Had it not been for him staying home today, I would not have noticed the rainbows as I most likely would not have been looking out the window.

double rainbow texas

When we walked back inside, Sage decided to play by the fireplace. Jenga was his choice today. In a matter of a few minutes he ushered me to come look again. I stood there in amazement and admired the structure he built. 

jenga house bw

As I raced upstairs to get my camera, he also grabbed his camera and started to photograph his creation. He proceeded to take more photographs of his stuffed animals and anything around the room. Then he sat on the blanket on the floor and reviewed the photographs he had just taken.

sage camera review bw

In the meantime, I mustered the energy to make scones for my breakfast. I decided on using the wild dried blueberries I normally put in the multigrain cereal. Turkish coffee and scones made for a tasty breakfast.

wild blueberry scones

Sage and I retreated upstairs where I comforted him as he went back to sleep. Afterwards, I read him two stories. The first was "The Travels of Babar" which I had a difficult time reading without laughing - which also made Sage laugh. I've never heard of the Babar series until my children were given a Babar book a few years back. The stories and style of writing I found a bit bizarre for my taste. The second book was "The Dark" and is about a little boy who is afraid of the dark but starts to converse with the dark as a way to overcome his fears. This book is one of four books I brought back with me from my travel to upstate New York last year. The story was more to my liking than the Babar book. Regardless, Sage enjoyed our time together and was all that mattered.

sage and babar book bw

Upon returning from Cinnamon's swimming lesson, Sage climbed back in bed and slept through dinner. Cinnamon readied herself for bed and chose a book for tonight's bedtime story. Ironically, she also chose a Babar book - "Babar and The Ghost".

sage asleep bw

Tired from swimming, Cinnamon fell asleep within 10 minutes. I returned to my room to write and heard Sage shifting around on his bed. He was thirsty and was searching for his bottle of water.

"I love you", I told Sage as he settled on his bed.

"I love you too", he replied.

"I love you more", I responded.

"I love you more than the Earth and the higher world", my Sage proclaimed as he drifted off to sleep.


rain drop red leaves

This morning I tried to convince the children to sleep in since it was Sunday and there was no school. My attempt was futile as they were wide awake. I don't blame them as they had five hours more sleep than I had.

“But I like school”, declared Cinnamon. I asked her why. “I don’t know”, she replied.

“I don’t”, proclaimed Sage about his dislike of school. I then asked him why and he replied, “I don’t like learning.”

I laughed but he was clearly not pleased with my response. "It's not funny," he sulked. I then asked him what he liked. I already knew the answer but wanted to give him a chance to voice his response. “Building”.

My boy also seems to take quite an interest in photographing the world around him. As we went on our afternoon photo hike, Sage asked me what I was photographing and then proceeded to replicate the shot with the indestructible kid camera purchased years ago. I'm still a bit hesitant to put a real point-and-shoot camera in their hands - a fear that was confirmed when Sage tripped later during our walk whilst holding the camera, two sticks, and a rock.

sage photographing

There were many objects of interest to photograph - as long as one took the time to appreciate the little things. The native grasses lining the walkway of a new townhome recently completed in the neighborhood were beautiful against the late afternoon light.

native grass

The wispy grass jutting out of a nearby rock swayed with the wind as we attempted to capture its loneliness.

grass in rock

The abandoned glass Coca-Cola bottle placed on top of a rock fence - most likely by one of the construction workers - stood out against the natural surroundings.

glass coke bottle

When you learn to appreciate the little things, your heart will lead your eyes to see much more than you believe is in front of you.

kids by cactus

Even a seemingly boring rock wall can yield interesting results - especially when stripping colour to reveal intricacies. I told Cinnamon the wall would look interesting in black and white. She asked how one goes about changing the colour of things. I told her "on the computer".

rock wall

The absence of colour in photographs has always been a fascination of mine. Pure emotions are more readily seen when the distraction of colour is removed.

kids by container bw

When you have a colour as bold as red, your eyes are immediately drawn to the red object instead of the emotions that should be at the forefront. Colour, as many things in life, tends to divert attention from what truly lies within.

kids by container colour


moroccan lantern

A change of scenery, a shift of pace. It can be as simple as stepping out your front door and taking a brisk walk around the neighborhood. Or it can be a morning-long event as you sit in your car and drive the 30 minutes to your intended destination. Sometimes a small change is all we need in order to gain clarity of a situation and of the next step to take. To have the moment of lucidity we oftentimes desire.

Such was the case this morning as I set out to go grocery shopping but ended up instead at The Hideout coffeehouse. Once again, I failed to realise the Austin City Limits music festival was underway. This meant crowds, which I mainly managed to avoid as I arrived downtown shortly past 10:30. After driving around for 20 minutes searching for nearby parking, I decided it simply was not worth any further driving as I was already in front of the Capitol building at the intersection of 11th Street and Congress Avenue.

As the light turned green, I looked over to my left and noticed a car pulling out of a metered parking spot. Oblivious to the double yellow lines, I made a sharp turn into the desired spot before anyone else could claim it. I didn't mind walking the four and a half blocks to my destination, but had hoped I would get there in time for some breakfast tacos. Unfortunately, I was too late as the only options included eggs - something I do not particularly like in tacos. Potatoes with beans and cheese would have been my preferred choice.

Scanning the counter for something else to calm my bout of hunger, soon to approach the level of being hangry, I laid my eyes upon a slice of banana bread packaged and sitting in a basket. I asked the new lady working there if any options existed which were not "gluten free". I wanted real flour. I desired gluten. Ever since the propagation of gluten-free products, I have made it a point to ask for ingredient clarification - or check the ingredients myself if a label is provided.

Coffee was next to be ordered and I dared to ask for a "flat white", even though it was nowhere on the menu board. The lady wasn't certain but would check if someone was able to make one. This was the first flat white I'd had in the States, my introduction to this coffee specialty from Australia and New Zealand having been in Edinburgh last November.

Wikipedia has a more accurate description of a flat white, but it is basically espresso with microfoam with a higher proportion of espresso to the steamed milk. Cappuccinos use macrofoam which is drier than the foam used for flat whites. I'm hoping more coffeehouses in the States start offering this delectable drink.

Of the two vacant tables in the front of the coffeehouse, I chose the one with the pair of old wing chairs on the stage with a view out the large front windows and decided I needed to do this more often and for much longer than the hour I put on the parking meter. So, I sat and watched people passing by. I drank my flat white, enjoyed my gluten-filled banana bread, and occasionally tuned in to nearby conversations. It was a small step towards lucidity, but a step nonetheless.


tealights blurred

Doubt. Uncertainty. Ambiguity. There will be times in our lives when we must ponder what lies ahead of us as a result of choosing one path over another in the face of life-changing decisions. When we must acknowledge the dark ominous clouds which follow us throughout the day casting shadows of disbelief and apprehension, influencing those decisions. When the choices often are obscured by obstacles out of our control such as emotions as opposed to rationale.

The reluctance to move forward is furthered by fear of the unknown. Faced with an impending fork in the road, we are prompted to make a choice. Seconds of hesitation tick away as the moment approaches. The decision to take one path precludes the option to select the other and thus obstructs the revelation of the outcome of the path not taken.  Knowledge of the result of choosing one path over the other would be ideal but quixotic. Nonetheless, a decision needs to be made.

Those in our lives might observe our hesitation as we ponder the consequences, offering words of seeming encouragement which further serve to confuse our already confused minds. They might hasten our decisions with their words of advice, but decisions made in haste are seldom ones most ideal and are likely to end in regret. Regrets which may result in a lifetime of missed opportunities. Thoughtful consideration might not be an option as continued prompting puts pressure on us to simply make a decision - any decision.

Some might argue decisions made in haste are better than no decision at all. Whereas a decision to make no decision might be ideal for some, it is not for others as complexities of the mind come to play when faced with uncertainty. Complexities which are not easily resolved and grow more intricate as multiple options present themselves. Albeit one answer might seem simple and desirable, not all things desirable are practical no matter how we wish them to be. If the veil of obscurity would somehow be lifted to reveal the impact of the decision, mysteries would cease and would bring along an alleviated anxiousness. 

Time is our enemy. With every passing second, uncertainties are added to the complexities already encompassing our thoughts. The choice of one path over the other sets into motion a future which might yield favourable outcomes or unfavourable ones. Whichever choice we make must be embraced as we move forward.

From the lyrics of Pascal Pinon's song, "Somewhere":

"Cherish and embrace it
appreciate the time we got
I ask you to forget me not
someday somewhere."


espresso cups

The desire to fit in with those around us is innate. We want to belong, to be accepted, to be a part of a group with commonalities. To feel we are a part of something important, something vast in significance. This desire can be so great we might even give up on our authentic selves in order to fit in. While this may be true for some people, others are not so apt to conform. The desire to be an individual with unique thoughts and goals is a great enough incentive to sacrifice conformity for the sake of individuality.

Acquiescence for most people is a way of life. You give in to the demands of your job, to the extra hours your boss thrusts your way. To the whims of your friends or co-workers who want to go out for a drink after work when all you want to do is go home and relax after a trying day. We do it so we are not the one who is insubordinate. We do it for we do not wish to be the individual others look upon as a dissident, one who stands apart from the crowd. The person who, at times, is forsaken when speaking his mind.

There are not many individuals who choose singularity over compliance. We do not wish to look different, to stand out, to be judged. We do not wish to be the girl who climbs up onto the tall speakers in front of the crowded dance floor at The Mayan night club and starts dancing as if nobody is watching. So we don the grey suits, the conservative business hair, the requisite garb prescribed by society. We would rather conform than misalign to what we believe society wants us to do, to be. Fear, for some, is the motivator. For others, it might simply be due to being content with the status quo, reasoning there is no need to fix what is not broken.

It is interesting to note how the human resources departments of some companies have adapted the word "align" when responding to job applications of potential employees. Instead of stating the applicant is not qualified, the letters being sent out state the misalignment of the applicant's qualifications to the job description. Such was the case today when I received two separate emails. One company used the term "align" - in the sense my skills did not align with the position. The other company stated something regarding a lack of an "appropriate opportunity" for discussing the position as advertised.

It takes great strength and courage to stand up for your beliefs and to dare to be different. To stand up to the face of conformity. Albeit some might see this as deviating from the norms of society, others will silently applaud you and your willingness to deviate from the crowd. With age, you start to worry less what others think of you. It is a freedom unlike any other and opens your mind to a world of possibilities, but only if you can look at this misalignment as a way to free yourself from the chains of conformity.


green leaves bw

At one point or another in our lives, we pause to reflect upon the past. A past we might remember fondly as we bask in the seeming simplicity of a time long gone. A time as we once were - young and naïve. Or a past we might lament for the simple fact we can no longer return to make right that which we believe we've done wrong. A past - with all its adversities, disappointments, and challenges - which has defined who we've become. An individual unlike any other. Different. Unique. Odd to some. 

A trigger might spark the initial contemplation which might turn into a cascade of introspectiveness. A song, a word, a thought. A trigger such as the newt which dropped from the ceiling onto my head today as I was leaving the house. The newt I saw earlier in the week scurrying through my front door. The one I tried, to no avail, to locate and usher out the door. Until later in the evening when it met its untimely, unfortunate, and unintentional demise.

The word which came to mind as a result of the newt was "premonition" as I had a strange feeling the newt would return, albeit not in such a frightening manner. This sequence of thoughts and words led me to a morning in high school where I had the premonition something bad would happen. It did. In gymnastics class when my hand slipped and I missed the balance beam causing me to come crashing to the floor onto my outstretched arm. As I was lying on the ground, I burst into a loud laughter and started to veer toward a vision of whiteness. "Don't let her drift away", I heard the paramedics saying as they arrived.

The other trigger was the word "lament" and the melody that accompanied it. As the melody played out in my mind, I started to recall a song of the same name I had long forgotten. Entering "lament song 80s" in the search engine, I noticed videos came up on YouTube naming Ultravox as the band. Then I started to remember the song and a host of others from a time long ago when youth was on my side. A time when I would get lost in the words in my mind needing to be scribbled down somewhere on some notebook paper in the form of poems.

Perhaps it's the result of the passing years and reflecting upon a time long ago. "If only..." we reason. But there is no reason. Nothing but the consequences of choosing to go down one path over another. The fate which transpires as a result of the chances we take. Of choices made in a split second that would forever change the course of history. Ours and the history of others. For a change in one person affects the lives of those around you.


blind circles

In this age of technology and the need to be tethered to our devices, there is great potential for one to lose focus. Focus on the present moment, attention to the people physically in front of us, the concentration of thoughts on one specific task. Technology has shifted our view of what is important.

The "ding" of an email, a text, a voicemail. It awakens the urgency in us to run and see who wrote or called. I remember long ago, before the age of the portable phone, walking into my apartment and seeing the flashing red light of the answering machine letting me know someone called. I recall the freedom of leaving my home and driving to the store without the chains of technology as we have now. Freedom to converse with the person in front of us in line at the store instead of having our eyes fixated on a screen.

The convenience of having it all at your fingertips is anything but convenient. We have become shackled to the inanimate objects that now rule our lives. This growing trend of the loss of focus shows no signs of subsiding anytime soon.

When you walk into a restaurant, rarely do you find the people at the table talking with each other. Rather, all heads are bowed. Not in prayer, but in reverence to the screen. The glowing screen which has taken over even our bedrooms as we tuck our devices under our pillows ready to be checked upon awakening.

There is nothing more offensive than someone choosing to check email, answer a phone call, or respond to a text whilst in company of others. If we have set aside a special time to meet, it is courteous to focus on the time together. The only exception being an emergency phone call. We are not doing any good letting our children and loved ones know they are less important to us than a device. It is time we untether and adjust our focus to what is truly important. 


puzzle sage elephants

"Mama! Mama!", I heard Sage calling me. He ran up the stairs and ushered me to come see. The excitement in his voice led me to believe it had something to do with his puzzle.

I saw Elli and Babar (his two larger elephants) covering the white foam core on which Sage was building his puzzle. He was hiding his surprise. As I suspected, he had completed his puzzle before breakfast. He was so excited and proud of himself, as was I. The look of astonishment on his face would make even the grumpiest person smile. I knew he would have no trouble putting together the 280 pieces. He's done it before, yet it seems to amaze him every time. Shortly thereafter, he started to take portions of the puzzle apart so that he might put it back together again.

280 puzzle colour

Cinnamon was feeling a bit run down and not her usual self. She refused an extra slice of cinnamon French toast - something she had requested all week as Sunday's special breakfast. As the day wore on, she started to feel better. This time of year I expect the children will come down with a few illnesses throughout the season but I hope nothing too serious.

cinnamon ill

Both children were happy to see Saffron over Skype after breakfast. No order of conversation was followed as all three spoke at the same time. Because of the time difference between Austin and Berlin, they are able to see each other solely on the weekends. The dynamic of the three has shifted much since summer with the older sister being absent from every day life. I cannot imagine a Christmas without all three together, yet that is the way it will be this year. 

The little things in life keep us going. The accomplishments, no matter how small they seem, which continue to astound.




cinnamon bun

From the moment she awoke, all Cinnamon wanted was for me to make her hair like mine. "Mama hair", she called it. A simple updo held together with a hair clip. In her case, two clips.

When her hair started to loosen as a result of her playing, she asked me to remake the style. A style so simple it takes a mere three seconds to pull the hair back into a low ponytail, twist it up, and clip it.

At one point, Cinnamon donned my grey hooded sweater and pretended to be me. "I'm mama!", she ran around the living room as I was making polenta. Sage continued work on his 280-piece puzzle. By the end of the day, more than half was completed. Knowing Sage, he will finish the puzzle by breakfast tomorrow.

sage puzzle progress

After breakfast, we made a few stops before heading to the theatre to see "Boxtrolls". Cinnamon explained how she tends to fall asleep when she watches movies too late. I can relate, so we went in between lunch and dinner. The children had been looking forward to going to the movie theatre all week long as it is not a regular occurrence. A movie and popcorn made their day.

At the paper store, the lady at the register commented on my well-behaved children. Was she looking at the same two children who were walking around touching books, craft supplies, and admiring walls of colourful papers with envelopes? I looked at her, bewildered. Did she truly meant my two children? She did, and I wondered how misbehaved children look. She explained she used to be a preschool teacher and has seen many children come into the store. She knew misbehaved children when she saw them and mine were not, she explained. Nice to hear, albeit I know my children have bad days too - as do adults. But today was not the first time I've had someone tell me this.

The bedtime story was the continuation of Giada's Naples book. Three more chapters, having ended with chapter 8.  I'm still wondering how the story will end - how the apparent dream will merge with reality. Or is the dream a reality? The rest of the story will have to wait until the children return in a week.

I realise Cinnamon's desire to be like me is temporary, so I embrace it for as long as it will last. Children grow up, gain their independence, and develop their own personalities. Life moves forward. But for this brief moment in time, I will smile when she wants to be me.

cinnamon mama sweater


light tree

Panic set in as I glanced at the time on my iPhone. 08:40. I wondered how I could have overslept so long. My heart raced as I jumped out of bed and ran to wake the children. This would have been the first time they would be late to school.

There was no sign of either Cinnamon or Sage. The bed was empty. It took a few seconds for me to realise I've already done the morning routine. Two hours ago. The kids were already in school. On time.

After walking the children to the bus stop, I set out to read on my bed. Tired as I was, I drifted off to sleep and awoke an hour later. It's strange how your mind creates delusions when you are tired. We have 24 hours in a day in which to accomplish a certain set of tasks. Sometimes we can have the best intentions but the mind and body have other plans. We might get angry when we're forced into bed rest for a day or two. But our bodies are telling us to slow down. Breathe. Reassess. Move forward with caution.

Upon return from school, the children were greeted with a new book. It arrived earlier in the day and was a book for Sage - about elephants. His first exposure to elephants was at six months of age when he received a stuffed elephant pillow as his first Christmas gift from Oma. Five years later, he still carries it around and cannot sleep without it. Last year, Cinnamon chose another stuffed elephant to give Sage for Christmas as she knew how much he loved elephants. They named him Elli.

sage serious bw

The book wasn't a children's story book, rather an educational one for children about the lives of elephants and the differences between African and Asian elephants.They were saddened when I read about men killing elephants for their ivory tusks. The greed and selfishness of mankind is astounding.

We read how elephants were vegetarians, how African elephants are larger than Asian elephants, and how the ears of the African elephants resembled the shape of the continent of Africa whilst the ears of the Asian elephants had the shape of India.

We learned of the great emotion elephants have when a loved one dies and of the intelligence this gentle creature possesses. Sage expressed his desire to go to Africa one day to see elephants. I hope one day his wish comes true.

 Our delusion of believing we are somehow a more significant creature than all others is simply a delusion. A deception.

The words on the last page of the book, by Steve Bloom, are one to take to heart:

Elephants are very intelligent and usually very gentle. They have long memories, deep feelings, and lots of love for their family and friends.
cinnamon cat bw



"I don't like noise", exclaims Sage at dinnertime.

"I like tiet", he continues. He pronounced it like "diet", but with a "t".

"You like what?", I ask.

"Tiet", he repeats. I look over to Cinnamon for an interpretation.

"Quiet", she translates. I ponder the significance of his thought and reflect on them how they also make noise. The realisation is lost on them.

We tried to ignore the sounds of the chainsaws and gas blowers as the new landscape company decided dinnertime was the best time to trim the shrubs and run their loud machines.

Earlier today, while the kids were in school, I purchased a small pair of Fiskars pruning shears at Home Depot after locating the air filter for the air conditioner. Once home, I began the fastidious process of trimming the overgrown branches as two men walked in front of my patio - one guy instructing the other guy on how to trim the shrubs. A strange coincidence they would be doing this today of all days. I wondered if they noticed my clipping the branches. It was long overdue.

branches cut

My plan was to preemptively trim the side of the fence facing my patio, preventing anyone from coming inside the patio and stomping on my plants as had happened last time. I was unaware today would be the day the landscapers would do work. I was meticulous, yet somehow a worker felt the need to open the gate, walk onto my washed patio, and squeeze by the peach tree. I thrust open the door and stared. Hard. He smiled. I said nothing. It's hard to be angry at someone who smiles at you. He was, after all, only doing his job.

All was fine until a mere 20 minutes later, after I finished reading "Madeline" to the children for their bedtime story. As I went downstairs, I heard more noise of the gas blowers and saw my gate being opened again. I stared in disbelief. Two workers were there this time. Different ones from the smiling worker. One entered the concrete slab patio, his footsteps heavy from the work boots he was wearing. As one guy blew the shorn leaves onto my patio, the other guy blew them out in the opposite direction. How that makes any sense is beyond my comprehension.

This time as I swung open the door, I looked hard at the guy standing with the gas blower hovering over my delicate plants. I told him I'd just washed down the patio. He didn't hear. He didn't care. He continued to walk around my patio for another five minutes. I was irritated. As I closed the door, I stood at the window peering through the slats of the blinds. I watched as the hem of his pants brushed by the tips of the aloe plant. One wrong move and he would break them off. Mad does not describe what I'd feel. There was nothing I could do. The place is not mine.

I wonder why I bothered. Why I spent the money on plants and planters and an irrigation system - the timer which somehow broke after three weeks - only to have my little piece of paradise trampled upon and violated. A tiny space that was supposed to be my own. A space, that when I moved in, was bathed in sunlight but is now blocked by the imposing new townhouse still in construction mode.

trimmed shrubbery

Then I remembered something Cinnamon told me a while back when I said, "One day we will have a "real" house." Her words brought to mind the true meaning of home when she replied, "This is a real house."

Paper hair - from paper towel rolls

Paper hair - from paper towel rolls

And when I look at my children, I remind myself a house is merely a building whereas a home is comprised of those inside.

Sage crown


puzzle light

"Mama, it's hot", declared Cinnamon at bedtime.

"Can we turn the fan on?", she asked. The heat is unrelenting tonight and shows no signs of cooling anytime soon. With it being 31C (87F) inside and 28C (82F) outside, tonight is the first time I opened the windows in hopes of a gentle breeze to ease the discomfort.

The air conditioner never seemed to work well since I moved in, despite my efforts at adjusting the controls. Another issue is at play - unknown at the moment. The simple solution would be to call the landlord, albeit the stubbornness of my nature prompts me to pursue the avenues of troubleshooting myself before resorting to a call. The first course of action is to go to Home Depot and buy a new filter, as the current one appears far from the white it should be. I wonder when, if ever, the previous owners last changed it.

After school, Cinnamon took to reading "Green Eggs and Ham" again. Twice. She announced her great love of the book and read it with much emotion, making sure to put emphasis when exclamation points showed up. She told me she read the book on the way to school. I asked whether she read it out loud and saw a scene in my head of her doing so. She assured me she did not read it out loud and I was happy to know she was using her ride to school in a useful manner.

green eggs and ham

After reading, she continued the drawing of the cat she started in school, made another one, and worked on a calendar with multiple sheets of paper.

seena drawings

Sage did what he does best. Building puzzles. This old puzzle has 280 pieces and is one Oma had decades ago - one brought out of storage not long ago and shipped from Germany.

sage puzzle

Sage can sit for hours sorting through pieces to find the one that fits. As a child, I loved puzzles as well and was able to get lost in them for hours. Now, I am cautious to start a new puzzle as I know I would lose track of time and find myself staring up at the window hours later, wondering where the sun disappeared.

At the moment, I would love the sun to disappear for a while. Until next year. Rain as a respite from the unrelenting heat is mere wishful thinking.

puzzle box