Looking for Love in All the Right Places

17th May, 2012 - Posted by Arita Trahan - Post a Comment - Current Comments (0)

I read about my grand-daughter’s visit with a fountain this past week.  (you can read it too at my daughter’s blog) Ellie threw some coins in and made some wishes. The first ones were endearing. The last ones gave me pause. This is what she said: “Abracadabra I wish that the butterfly loves me. Abracadabra I wish that the water fountain loves me.”

Was she really looking to these “things” for love?

I think so.

Today I read an article about a lovely spot near my new home in Philadelphia. And I suddenly understood Ellie’s wish for her environment to love her.

There are places that comfort me. Other times a place will make me feel inspired, or energized, or “at home”.  I could call those moments evidence that I am being loved by that place. There are rooms and places in nature where I actually recall feeling a kind of embrace. It was love in a form of resonance. When I resonate with a place I feel a belonging, a connection with it.

It doesn’t happen everywhere or all the time; but I have known for a long time that rooms and buildings, gardens and woods can resonate with me. When I consider my walks through neighborhoods, or car rides anywhere, I am always on the lookout for resonance in structure or nature. And I find it often.

Yes, Ellie. The fountain does love you. Your wish is granted.

Death and Children

8th March, 2012 - Posted by Arita Trahan - Post a Comment - Current Comments (0)

My daughters and I are headed to my father’s memorial this weekend. My grandgal who is three will not be coming.

This morning I read a blog that my daughter wrote about her conversations with her little one about death. She had told her earlier that her grandpa had died, and then there was the dead lightbulb and the dead bug in the light fixture. She understood it all. She had seen that dead mouse on the street.

To me, this simplicity is very soothing. First they are here. Then they are somewhere else. I remember watching the movie about Temple Grandin and her questioning that moment in the slaughterhouse. “Where do they go?” “What do you mean?” “One minute they are cows. Then they are just meat. Where do they go?” That sums it up for me.

When this same daughter (now Baba to my grandgal) was three, my grandpa died. I drove from Nashville to Biloxi, MS with her and her one-year-old sister. On the day of the funeral, my baby was actually in the hospital for the day, as she had gotten such a case of diarrhea on the drive down that she had become dehydrated.

My big girl was always so calm. She wanted to go up and look in the casket, and so we did. There had been this parade of mourners before us. I didn’t know how she would respond, but she was interested in what was making them all cry. I picked her up and we stood there looking down at the body. She turned her little face to me and said with absolute clarity, “Mommy, it’s just like a leaf that fell off a tree.”

And so it seemed for me.

flip flops and socks

28th February, 2012 - Posted by Arita Trahan - Post a Comment - Current Comments (0)

Since moving from Los Angeles to Philadelphia a few weeks ago, there is one thing I’ve really missed. My flip flops. I miss how easy they are. I miss knowing that no matter where I am going my flip flops are appropriate attire. Mostly, I miss how comfortable they are.

In Philly my feet have been hurting me. I’ve blamed my feet for being too big for my shoes. I’ve taken hot baths and laid awake afterwards because my feet hurt. And I thought fondly of those flip flops.

When my kids were tiny (late 70′s) I was told that they needed those high-top shoes for toddlers. They needed them to support their arches and to help them learn to walk. I thought that sounded ridiculous. Why would arches need supporting. They were moving into the walking stage beautifully without them. Toddlers wearing those clunky shoes looked like something out of a frankenstein movie. Weren’t feet designed to walk? Weren’t toes designed to reach and balance and spread and grip? I bucked the system in my own small way by not buying those shoes and enjoying my kids in their bare feet at often as possible.

So why were my toes hurting me now? Not the shoes. Not the stairs. Not the length of my toe nails (yes – that has been an issue before). It was the socks! When I put them on, I pulled them on so tight that my toes couldn’t wiggle.

Yesterday I was conscious when I put on my socks. Last night there was no pain. This morning I feel a little silly telling you how I’ve managed to hurt myself with my socks for years. Ahhhh – never again.

It’s not as obvious without the flip flops, but my toes are free at last!