Final Push for Madeleine's Well Project

Gosh, I haven't written on here in forever and I definitely need to take the time for that.  Things have gotten crazy busy again.  I tend to put my head down and start running...hitting the pavement...as things go faster and faster.  This semester I'm really going to try to make writing a regular chance to look up from the run and see what's around me.

At this moment, though, The Madeleine's Well Campaign is almost done.  She has raised almost :) $2000...which is a lot for one little 9 year old.  More than anything, I think she has experienced how many people out there truly care and how much one little act matters.  There's no doubt that at 9 year's old she doesn't fully grasp all that's happened.  And, of course, we have at times had to remind her of the commitment she has made.  But she IS a little kid and her huge heart is what has been encouraging to me as her Mom.

Anyway, more reflections on that to come later.  For now, here is the final video.  The music was written by a wonderful artist, Lynn Hollyfield, who was so moved my Luna's spirit that she wrote this special song.  Check her out at LynnHollyfield.com

Tugging at Memories

Sounds, smells, music, feelings, phrases…Usually the senses…all of them…the "sixth" sense too…are all related to memories

The Elite Eight Game right before I tore my shoulder

Oh yeah, the weather… the weather brings out so many old memories.  Cloudy…Fall…sort of wet…cold…days…and I'm on the soccer field. It smells like cold grass. My hands are usually numbing, my nose frozen…and I'm loving it. The wind…I feel like I can even smell the trees.

Danny and I after playing the Semi-Final matc

The feeling of the thin silky-type soccer shorts material on my cold thighs. When I go back to that place I even feel my body get tired…as if I've just practiced. Practice, Practice, Practice…and if I'm lucky, I see myself in this photo…Daniella and I playing against each other in the NCAA Final Four…Amherst, MA. Foooo….definitely an experience…clash of best friends…two different schools…she a goalie that I grew up shooting against…I the striker…she was used to reading my shots. I tore my shoulder that game…I feel that too. ALL from a wet, cold, grass smelling day.

Whenever there's Vodka around…the smell of it…the look of a bottle of Vodka…the clinking of a shot glass…the taste and the burn down my throat (when I used to drink)…that brings me back to 15 running loose in Sweden. Yes…15…it actually brings me to the "Stena Line", an overnight ferry ride from Denmark to Sweden. It's cold…and I smell of soccer too. Oh gosh…suddenly I have jeans on and Converse sneakers with a Rugby shirt and a windbreaker. I'm on the deck of this boat and laughing and getting drunk with a bunch of other buttheads who chose to take advantage of the "No drinking age" freedom of Scandinavia and they're wonderful on-board tax-free shops. I never really got drunk before then. I remember not wanting to that night either. But my best friend was there and so were the Arizona boys…and…it was exciting. Gosh my nose got cold. The airport..and vomit…and Toblerone…ugh. I remember that too.

CVS…the pharmacy. Where I go once a month to get my Rx. Inevitably I think of Richard, Huny…the little boy from Korea living below us in Nashville. He'd just walk in the door…no knock…no English at first. Why CVS?...because of that one Christmas where Santa brought all this stuff for Luna, but had somehow failed to stop one floor below. Huny's Mom wasn't very attentive. She had actually left him with us the night before so that she could do some last minute Santa shopping. She didn't come in until 12:00. The next morning, when Richard ran up the steps in his PJ's and said Santa hadn't come yet, our (Andrew and My) hearts broke. His Mom didn't wake up until 1:00. By that point I had already run to CVS…the only store open on Christmas day…and grabbed as many cool boy toys I could afford from the shelf, Matchbox cars and Kinex and Playdoh and…the biggie…a remote control car. We wrapped them and hid them behind our tree. Luna called Richard in…excited that Santa had somehow made a mistake and left HIS presents under OUR tree. CVS shelves remind me of Richard.

I was in a new grocery store the other day. It was more of a market. The rows filled with Hispanic food products. I'm not talking like the Goya section of Pathmark. Nope…I mean shelves of the real stuff. I was warped back to Pueblo..the supermarket from childhood in Puerto Rico. I smelled the produce. As you walk in you get that strong produce smell….and the butcher smell…real butcher at the market. It's not the most pleasant smell. It's pretty strong actually. But it's a fresh smell….it tells you that it's REAL produce and meat. And the shelves…they've got the real stuff too. The Nutella doesn't just come in a bottle like we see in the grocery store (if you actually see it).

In Pueblo and in my lunch box the Nutella came in these tiny little individual packages with tiny plastic spreaders. That's what I saw at this market the other day. And…suddenly…I was 9 years old again. I looked at Luna walking with me, asking for a quarter to put in one of those little turn things with gumballs or gadgets. I saw little me putting a quarter in to get a plastic container of Fluorescent Goo…I used to love that Goo. Little Tere had Papi walking with her though…and it was summer…and I was in my shorts…and chubby....and then I got sad inside…really sad. It reminded me of a time when I'd visit my Papi in Puerto Rico for the summer, that I wanted to feel loved and protected…and he did protect me and love me, but I felt sad and awkward about it.

Now, the same market, I turned the corner and saw the wall of Turkish foods and the cooler session…with Kafir…and Paynir. I smiled at first. I was transported to Jolan's kitchen in Nashville. The kids running around in their undies, one on Jolan's hip…and she'd take out her homemade sour-yogurt-milk-curdled-something..lol. I smelled her Chicken Paprikas…my favorite that she made. I felt her love and welcomeness. She always made it feel natural for me to be there. So…the smile turned to a tear…because I haven't felt that level of "natural" in so long.

I ordered myself a body oil for Christmas. Nothing expensive…small from a women-run shop that makes natural products (www.peaceoftheearth.com if you're interested). Holly had a candle in her office…I think it was a candle, though I never completely identified it. But it was definitely a distinct…sweet…calming…quiet scent. There's nothing like it in the world…nothing makes me feel like that either. It is the scent of serenity and acceptance and quiet and love. Peace of the Earth makes a Lavender Vanilla…it's about as close as I'll come to being back in Holly's office. I ran out of it a while back. So when the box arrived the other day and I tore it apart, it was like a warm hug. But I cried…I miss Holly's office…and peace.

Everything seems to tug out my memories. And with those memories come a rush of feelings. I think I was born with some sort of high memory sensitivity. I mean…I feel stuff pretty intensely as it is, but memories…hooo…I get a surge. I thought it was the Holidays, but it's gone on like that for a few weeks now. Feels like every turn in my day floods my heart with memories….then emotion…then thoughts…then smiles…or tears.

I'm enjoying it…most of it. Mostly, I feel lucky…and amazed too…that I have had such powerful…wonderful experiences to remember. My life has, if anything, been eventful. So, the most important memory, I guess, is that I've been to a lot of places

A Gift to Myself

Click here to check it out in detail

I've been wanting and planning and creating and dreaming of this for a year. So, when I saw the coupon come through my email (and I generally delete this stuff) I knew it was time. I needed this...a celebration of a part of me I denied for too long. While I don't really expect anyone else to order one...so it's really only something I'll see..it's still scary.  It's scary to see something I made...it's scary to feel proud of it as if I'm saying I'm good at something. But it's a fear that's good for me to overcome, especially in this New Year.

This year, I want to take hold of and care for those "not so pleasant" parts of me.
But I also want to hold onto and give love to the parts of me that deserve praise.

My Circle Art comes from deep inside...I start in the center and let my heart bleed out on the page so that each one of them reflects exactly what was going on with me at the moment it was created.  In that way, this book truly chronicles my last year...or year and a half...of thoughts and feelings.

I'm excited...I really am...and proud.  I can't wait for it to arrive in the mail and smile and jump like a proud little Tere.  Oh...and I got a great deal, too...something adult Teresa loves.  If you have a chance, go check it out...it's a bunch of "me" packed in one place.