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remembering

coffee: a learned love.

On 25, Jun 2013 | No Comments | In remembering | By Natalie

coffeei remember
when i learned to like
coffee.

sitting at my papa’s front kitchen
table.
Read more…

those kinds of friends.

On 24, May 2013 | No Comments | In remembering | By Natalie

Shame on me.

No really. I’ve been meaning to write this post for months now, almost 7 months to be exact. You see, this time I really do deserve a proper “shame on you” finger wagging from myself for this kind of thing. Read more…

somedays i miss it.

On 29, Nov 2012 | No Comments | In expating, remembering | By Natalie

somedays i do.
other days i don’t.

but today i do.
– n.

to my biggest fan.

On 18, Jun 2012 | One Comment | In remembering | By Natalie

as i sat down to
write in his card this morning
i realized
he really is quite good at
so many things.


like running tons of miles
over his lunch hour.
and biking all day
or at least 50 miles.


then there’s motorcycles & sailboats.
his information about any and all
weather situations.
things like
cutting down trees & getting lost
in Costco aisles.
like when to follow maps & when
to find your own way. 


of course things like
seeing & listening.
investing wisely.
teaching truth.
making friends 
wherever he goes.
enjoying his every circumstance.

see?
so many things.


but there’s one thing he’s
really good at.
and what’s funny is
he underwent absolutely zero training
for this endeavor.


and he actually seems to
be better at this one
than all the rest.


well, maybe i’m just biased.
(could be).


so Dad.
thanks for being the one
i call
dad.


want to know something?
i didn’t choose you.
and quite honestly you didn’t
exactly choose me either.


but Dad, here’s the thing.
you’ve chosen me
each and everyday 
of my life.


and i know
beyond a shadow of a doubt
that you’ll choose me
again tomorrow & the next day
and for as many days
as we have to come… 


and that.
that has made 
all the difference.


to my biggest fan.
(ps i’m yours too).


happy father’s day.


xo,


n.

12

Jan
2012

2 Comments

In remembering

By Natalie

a birthday of the past

On 12, Jan 2012 | 2 Comments | In remembering | By Natalie

there was a year. 
one of the middle years of my college going.
that my world came apart. 
this was my first time.
perhaps that’s why it hurt
so much.


the people i thought were “my people” 
suddenly weren’t. 
and i was hurt beyond repair. 
i was loyal, yet was lied to. 
i pressed into hard places,
and i was left standing.


alone.


looming ahead of me and that shattered mess
was my birthday.


so when my mom called
and kindly inquired of me 
what i was planning to do with my friends
for my birthday


i hesitated. 


i couldn’t lie to her. 


so instead
i sobbed. 


because those who i wanted
to celebrate with me, 
weren’t even looking at me. 
wouldn’t even stand
in the same room as me.


sometimes it’s hard to know.
hard to know when it’s the time.
the time to rescue.


and from what i’ve learned from
watching my own mother
as well as my friend’s who wear the
“mom” tag,
it’s a mother’s hard work to know
when those times are,
but


not to worry.
she said.
stay right where you are.
i’m coming.


and that very night
she swooped in and enlisted
the ladies.


that night.
the ladies celebrated me.


they surrounded me.
they toasted me.
they ate with me.
they drank with me.
they laughed with me.
and they were oh so very merry with me.

they told me: 
this is who you are.
this is what your about.


they reflected back to me
what my bruised soul couldn’t see.
they gently picked up
the pieces of me that had be trampled to the ground.


the ladies,
who illustrated ages
scattering upwards a few years from my own,
they defined for me that night
what birthdays are really all about.


to be seen.
to be seen.
sometimes a bit battered
and bruised.
but still resilient.




sometimes in those moments
you just know
that you are 
absolutely
positively
the luckiest person on earth.


cheers.


see?
even years later
still drink to that.
and those ladies.


to this next trip around the sun
{i’ll keep you posted},




– n.



one. then two. then twenty.

On 04, Dec 2011 | No Comments | In noticing, remembering | By Natalie

one.
then two.
then five.
then twenty.
and then one hundred thousand.
all
falling
together.


and hours later.
our world is.


sweaters.
tugged in tighter.
warm beverages 
cupped between thankful
hands.
cozy-ers cozy in to their
someone closer.


and the candles lite hold 
the color
of our glowing, flickering existence.


and hours later.
our world is….


have i ever seen this 
brillance of new 
before?
every time i ask myself.


my collection of memories seem
to encourage me that…
yes.
in fact i know this.


but the shimmer. 
gentle gracing.
resting.
delighting.
being.


all. it all is new.
every time.
new again.


and hours later.
our world is 
completely changed….




covered.
…..in snow.




it’s the best, right?






– n.





rub your arms moments: are you listening?

On 30, Nov 2011 | No Comments | In remembering | By Natalie



i once had a teacher
who would rub her arms 
full of goosebumps and implore
her class,
“shhh! shhhh!!
did you hear it?!
weren’t you listening?!”


she was not everyone’s favorite.
she gave us B’s.
sometimes C’s.
shook her head
and told us we weren’t trying hard enough,
just when we thought we were.


she marched out when we were
impossible.
she pursed her lips, piercing 
us with silence, when we
didn’t listen.
she moaned when we couldn’t
hear our own faults.

and worse…
she made us do it 
again & again & again.


we would say, i’m no good.
she would say, you can be.
we would say, i can’t.
she would say, you can.
we would say, i won’t ever.
she would say, you will.
but we loved her.

when she was absent for even a day,
we begged to have her back.
she stole our hearts.

we might not have known.
she might not have known.
regardless.
it didn’t matter.
because she taught us
what she was.

 

melody.

rhythm. 

movement.

moments.


music.

she taught us these things.

but most importantly
she taught us
to listen.

to listen to 
our own voice.
to the voice beside us.
and the voices all around.

she taught us to love beauty.
beauty that we
all
standing together
working toward one thing…
created. 
together.

she taught us
harmony and perfection
could come into a single moment.


she taught us to
notice the moments.

she would gasp.
and glow.
her excitement
and wonder penetrating the room,
rubbing her arms.


“did you hear it?!
are you listening?”


the body knows beauty.


but she taught us to listen for it.
and appreciate it.


this teacher
she doesn’t know. 
she can’t.
of how often my mind wanders to her.
to her classes
where she would push and push us.
bubble with pleasure
rubbing to her arms…


because of her,
there is always something for me
about a choir…
those moments.
only envoked by voices
working together.
to create
those moments of perfection… harmony
and utter beauty.


hmmm…
it touches something deep inside.


do you hear it?
are you listening?


may choirs find you.
or 
may you find them.
and may you notice
the moments.
and rub arms full of goosebumps.


let the season begin,
natalie.



ps beautiful images found herehere & here.



revisiting old friends.

On 22, Nov 2011 | No Comments | In remembering, sharing | By Natalie

i am constantly looking
for new books to read.
new releases.
the best of 2011.
the best books in the last century.
must reads.
new york time reviews.
meandering through bookstores.
yes please.
as much as i love the new.
lately in my book reading
i’ve taken sometime
to do some remembering…
rereading…
some revisiting…
have you revisited any of your
oldest
and most favoritest
of friends lately?
have you dusted them off
and paid them some long
overdue
quality time?
have you smiled the knowing
smile when the part comes
and you know precisely
how your friend
will respond?
“just how many dresses
did you say you had, Wanda Petronski?”
“a hundred. a hundred dresses.
all lined up in my closet.”
“i’ll give him a balloon.
i’ve got one left from my party.”
“that, Piglet, is a 
very good idea…
it will cheer Eeyore up.
nobody can be
uncheered with
a balloon.”
“Mr. Bennet, you take delight 
in vexing me. 
you have no compassion on
my poor nerves.”
“you mistake me, my dear. 
i have a high respect 
for your nerves. 
they are my old friends. 
i have heard you mention them with 
consideration these twenty years 
at least!”
and in your revisiting?
have you noticed something
you haven’t noticed before?
“but of course we can’t take
any credit
for our talents. 
it’s how we use them 
that counts.”
 
and so it is with
reoccurring visits.
with these old friends
there is a
sort of
timelessness
than cannot be explained.
can you remember the first
time you were
introduced
to these gems?
hmmm…
for some yes.
for some no.
for some friends are so deep
apart of me
i cannot remember not knowing.
but others are new friends
and their wisdom
is still sinking in.
have you read any
old favorites as of late?
due tell…
due tell…
-n.