for my mother.

i was not the little girl who grew up knowing i'd one day be a mother.

i was not the little girl who imagined my own little girl.

but this remarkable thing happened. after gradation i spent some time taking care of some wee ones, and as i read them stories i heard my mother's voice in my own.

i am not afraid of motherhood.

i am not afraid to be a mother.

i with great patience and anticipation await the day.

i have every confidence that i will meet that holy phase of my life with surprising resiliency.

because i had the most remarkable of mothers. because she created the way. gifted me a road-map. instilled within me all i will ever need to know.

and for that, along with countless other things, i bow down to her today. i give her thanks. and wish her the happiest of mother's days.

i love you, mom.




(ps: remember that time in third grade i made you a mother's day book in school and on the front cover i glued your head on princess diana's body? it was that i thought you'd look really great in that blue dress she had on).

a letter to my readers:

when i graduated from college i never expected that i'd begin a blog. (secret? sometimes i still cringe at the word: blog. it's such an odd word, isn't it?). but here i am. here we are. nearly three years later (nearly, not quite). and i have a blog. and i am a blogger. and the thing is...i love it. unabashedly, i love it.

and i've learned so much. and i'm still just beginning. the story is new but long.

i couldn't have done it without all of you. you who read this thing and send me lovely words of encouragement. you who know just what a girl needs to hear and just when she needs to hear it.

so, thank you.

truly, deeply i offer up my thanks. for reading and responding and lurking and following and filling my story with wonder.

tonight at midnight i will randomly choose one follower to receive a little handmade piece of goodness by mail. if i could send one to each person out there i would, please know that. but money is little and time is short and let's be honest...i'm no oprah. so. there you have it.

my humble gratitude is yours. do with it what you will.




here's to the rest of the story,

meg

giving thanks.

there are moments when i can't get over how incredibly fortunate i am.

when the sheer weight of all the blessings in my life is almost too much to bear.

and so i find myself sending up silent prayer after silent prayer. giving thanks.

thanks for mornings in the kitchen, here in my childhood home. the streaming light and marble countertops.

for time with my mother. in the car. running errands. talking about all the things that mothers and daughters talk about. for the habit and comfort of it.

thanks for my father. and the fact that he drags me to the gym with him. and plops 5 lb. barbells in my hands as i walk on the treadmill.

thanks for parents who rally around me. protect me when they sense it is needed.

for nights out to new italian restaurants. and nights in watching silly television.

for the comfort of the tree-lined streets and blazing-heat.

for a home i can always return to. a cocoon of love and safe-keeping.

and the freedom to leave. and live my life. mistakes and all.

image.

today i am stuffed.

with the salad below. (euf, so full!)

with gratitude.

with love for friends new and old.

with undeserved kindness.

with peace.

and the knowledge and faith that life has a way of working out. (ps: remind me of this the next time i think the sky is falling, as invariably i will at some point in the near future.)

(note: ignore the strange look on my face. i think it's the product of nearly finishing the salad {yes, the ENTIRE thing}, which left me careening toward food comatose. and ignore my poor hair--that's a product of dying hair dryer.)

dear mallorie,

thanks for giving me my first cafe rio experience. and for the trip to wal-mart for a new hair dryer. my hair thanks you. let's play again soon.

xo,

meg

pulling the same face.

three things that seem important to me when looking at this photograph:

1. i'm quite sure it was done using a self-timer

2. my adrienne vittadini outfit was worn every day of that visit

3. i am in fact making the same face as my father (which is noteworthy, because to this day we pull the same faces and i used to think it was a relatively recent development, but obviously not).

sometimes i think if there is a set amount of luck for each person in this life, i used all mine up in choosing my parents.

i have parents who actually parented. who sat us down as a family after dinner to read a book aloud, together. who held family meetings--miserable, awful things they seemed at the time, but important too.

my dad's birthday was this past weekend. and not a day goes by where i don't find myself catching my breath--awed by the daily sacrifices and hard work he has put in so that my brother and i might have every and any opportunity we choose.

my father literally gave us the gift of choice.

so if i don't say it enough (and i don't) thank you, dad.

and a very happy birthday to you.