SOLSC '18 Day Five: And then I was fifty-two

Another year has flown by.  

The last three birthdays--forty-nine, fifty, and fifty-one--gave me pause to think.  Diagnosis at forty-nine, bedridden by fifty, and gone at fifty-one; those were the last three years of my mother's life.

Today I celebrate a birthday that my mother didn't reach herself.  Today marks the true beginning of uncharted territory on my matriarchal map.  To find fifty-two, I would have to look further to the left, to the right, to the examples of my grandmothers' lives.  But they too, are gone, with only sparse memories and infrequently told family stories to sustain me.

So I will look up, instead.  I will ask for guidance from these three angels on this day, and every birthday to come.  

These are the gifts I will take from them today:

From my mother--the ability to forgive, but not forget, lest I let others test my boundaries again.  The importance of creative pursuits to soothe the soul and gift others.  The need for a social network, even as I long for solitude.  Always have some money in your purse.  If there is a reason to celebrate, then have a party.  The example of lifelong love.

From her mother--enjoy a good laugh.  Find a job you like and stay with it.  Keep a neat house (I need to work on that!).  Always have a book by the bed.  Do what you are afraid of; having driving shoes helps.  Use the good china and crystal.  

From my paternal grandmother--find your look, and stick with it.  Put on some lipstick, and you're ready for anything, even if it's cooking pierogis.  Jewelry is a great make-up gift after a fight.  The best accompaniment for coffee is a danish.  Have a deck of cards on hand for solitaire and go fish.   

Thanks for the birthday gifts, Mom, Grandma, and Grammie.   

SOLSC '18 Day Four: Up and away

The feeling was glorious, however brief.  Some nights, I launched from my bed, slipping through the roof as if it wasn't there, hovering over my house and circling the field beyond until I returned to bed.

At other times I was standing in a forest, and felt myself push off from the ground.  I could float several feet off the ground, zooming down hiking trails and around trees, as if some invisible force was keeping me afloat.  

Always, I would wake up the next morning convinced I could fly.  

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We left Naples, Italy and moved to California the summer before my fifth grade year.  I didn't want to leave Naples; it's the first time I remember crying over a move in our peripatetic military life.  My parents bought a house in the suburbs of San Jose, and my brother and I walked to the neighborhood school.  

We must have been the only military family there.  When one of my classmates asked where I was from, I said that I had lived on three continents; they didn't know what a continent was.  I was always the outsider during those two long years, playing mostly by myself at recess.  The only friend I can recall is Marco, the boy who lived across the street.  His mother had lupus and didn't go outside much, but she would make us delicious flour tortillas on the mornings we accompanied Marco to school, the butter dripping down my forearm as we walked.

My teachers, Ms. Doi and Mrs. Gize, were points of light during those years.  Mrs. Gize and my mom became friends when my mom started working as a classroom assistant; we went out to her house in the country a few times.  Mr. and Mrs. Gize had fruit trees and a room full of books--a piece of heaven to me.  But I never did fit in at school, or in our neighborhood.

I was miserable in San Jose.  
Maybe that's why I wanted to fly away.

SOLSC '18 Day Three: Birdsong alarm

Last night
I had good intentions
Setting the alarm
For a pre-dawn rising

Because I really enjoy
My quiet-alone time
Sipping my coffee
Meditating, praying

And writing
Book reviews
Personal slices
Library happenings

And now my March pieces
But it's Saturday
And the bed was warm
With no appointments to keep

So I turned off the radio
Ten minutes later
Turned off the buzzer
Rolled this way

And slept a little longer
Rolled that way
Dreamt a little more
Until the sun

And the birdsong
Beckoned my eyelids to open
My body to stretch
My smile to greet the day.

SOLSC '18 DayTwo: Full Moon in Virgo

Do you pay attention to the lunar cycles?

Teachers and nurses can sense the changing moon phases.  Little ones' energy grows with the waxing moon, and labor and delivery nurseries are noticeably filled a bit more quickly on days surrounding the full moon. I've been witness to both in current and past careers. 

I don't consider myself an astronomer, but I remember taking comfort from the stars and night sky at an early age.  As a military BRAT, they were the constants as my earthly landscapes changed through multiple intercontinental moves.  Maybe that's why I'm still drawn to the full moon, pulling me outside even in chilly weather to catch a glimpse of that bright, yellow-white, pock-marked circle in the sky.

I breathe in the night air, the light energy beaming through tree limbs.  Laughter is coming from the park behind my house, or perhaps another yard; I can't tell, my gaze held by the moon. I play with the settings on my camera, trying to capture the moment of moon and clouds, framed by the silhouettes of tree branches and sloping rooftops.

I know the pictures won't do justice to this nocturnal vignette.  After a few shots, I put the camera down, and take a few moments to breathe deeply once more, watching the clouds pass over the old man's face.  The chill finally settles into my bones, and I scuffle inside.  I will go to bed happy tonight, knowing we are all slumbering under the same full moon.

(All pictures taken by Christine Margocs, copyright 2018.)  

Full Moon in Virgo by Christine Margocs is licensed under a Creative Commons Attribution-NonCommercial-ShareAlike 4.0 International License.

SOLSC '18 Day One: Finding a theme

March 1st. A full moon.  My birthday month. Spring Break just over a week away.  And the beginning of my sixth Slice of Life Story Challenge.

I want to play with a theme this time, a topic to cover or include in details as I mark this merry month of March...but what theme should I choose?  The answer came to me last night on my way home from work.  The details I was drawn to:

• a teeny tiny beetle on the back of my car, with a brown body and a red head.  It flew off like a ladybug as I leaned in for a better look, zooming over my shoulder and ahead of my car, as if to say "follow me home!"
• three geese flying overhead in the dusk, stretching their necks north, a sure sign that warmer temps are heading that way
• as I stopped in traffic near the train station, a hawk swooped high in the sky and landed on a tall pole, scanning the area like a ruler surveying his kingdom and then flying off before I could grab my phone to record him

Flight, flying, the sky overhead, remembering to look up.  My mind is already playing with ideas to incorporate these into my next thirty Slices.  Let the SOLSC '18 begin!

Tuesday Slice: Wants versus needs

Our bus full of school librarians pulled up to the almost-brand-new central branch of the Austin Public Library.  We were directed down a short flight of stairs and to the left; a grand room full of muted sunlight with empty tables and a delicious buffet line of coffee and juice and breakfast goodies awaited us.

Roosevelt Weeks, the director of APL, greeted us warmly and delivered statistics on the new library's use, touting thousands of visitors weekly.  Our director then divvied us up by passing out slips with book details that we matched up to make groups of six or so; each group was escorted by an APL volunteer for a guided scavenger hunt.

We spent the next hour visiting the six floors of the beautifully designed, European-style library.  Sunlight reaches all of the stacks.  A full floor is dedicated to youth; children on one side, teens on the other.  There is seating of every size, shape, color, and material imaginable, inviting readers to sit and stay, if only to look at the scenery through the windows.  Reading porches on two floors beckoned us with fresh air and more comfortable seating.  The shelves in many areas are on casters and easily moved; even the librarian stations are upright, wheeled desks with computers.  There are plugs everywhere, and laptop checkout stations with several different brands available.

We were given a behind-the-scenes tour of the administrative offices by one of the graphic designers for the library.  The cubicles were bright, with white walls and colorful interior panels. Knick-knacks, posters, and potted plants gave away hints about the occupants' personalities.

Back in the grand room, we were advised while eating our brown bag lunches to think about our own libraries through the lens of this new, modern, flexibly-designed building.  

I am fortunate to be working in a school that is only ten years old.  We have access to desktops, laptops, and iPads in our library, as well as a large interactive board.  Last year, the school received a grant which included new, flexible furniture for the "learning side" of our library, the side that gets rearranged the most often for staff meetings, presentations, and student use.  Tables on casters and chairs that stacked were a need in our heavily used space, replacing bulky wooden tables and heavy upholstered chairs.

The rest of our library is fairly stationary--heavy wooden shelves with twenty thousand books; a big, oval circulation desk with space in the middle that can host myself, my assistant, and two teachers without touching one another; and the old, heavy tables and chairs on the "reading side" of the library.  It seems to work pretty well, especially when we are hosting two classes at a time.

I like to dream as much as the next person, but for now, I will forego asking for grant money for fancy chairs.  Moveable shelving may be a necessity in the near future, but even that can wait for another year or more.  As long as there are school libraries in my district that are home to old, splintered circulation desks, worn out carpeting, and furniture that doesn't serve their needs...do I really need to focus on wants? 

Tuesday Slice: Breeze through an open door

The sun broke through the clouds as I sat in a heavy wooden rocking chair, on a balcony overlooking a gentle slope of dormant grapevines.  Sun's warmth had been hard to come by this February; I closed my eyes, and let the rays sink into my bare arms and face.

Clouds rolled in, and the cooling breeze interrupted my dozing.  Moving inside, I noticed a coverlet I hadn't paid attention to before.  The soft bed and a book beckoned.  Leaving the balcony door open, I sank back onto the pillows.  I let this moment sink in--the sounds of birds, the feel of the breeze through an open door, the weight of the book in my lap.  I was utterly, deeply content.

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I was blessed last weekend by attending a SoulCollage© retreat at The Vineyard in Florence, Texas.  From Friday afternoon through Sunday, I was in the presence of soulful women as we read our cards and created an altar for them.  I didn't realize just how much I needed the quiet until this exact moment. I hope to do this again next year.