Sometimes, just sometimes, when I write, I can hardly see the screen. My eyes will be watered and I can feel a heaviness leaving. So when we write, there are times we write to heal. Other times, my eyes are almost shut because my smile makes me squint. And yet again, a relief is felt that my heart can be happy and I needed to say what was put on my heart. I experience all three emotions not just when I write, but when I get into the good book, the Bible, God’s spoken truth. We are not asked to love the Bible, but to love the living word which is Jesus. I stumble, as we all do, but getting back up is easy when you do not rely on people, but rely on God. We had a great speaker from Acts 29 ministry, she was from Sweden and shared about the good Shepherd, Jesus. His people will hear His voice, look inward and listen inward rather than outward. A good message. Encouragement from people is good, but getting into the Word every day brings a sense of goodness and it does not matter how many times you’ve read a passage, sometimes it’s the 76th time that really speaks to your heart. A Aha moment of ok, it may have taken this many times to finally get it, but perseverance often leads to a battle won for the day. Love and be love.
Mommy and Daddy
It is my belief that each parent is a necessity in a healthy upbringing of any child, Duke is no different. Duke spends the majority of his life with me, when it is possible he also spends weekends with his dad. I maintain a semi-civil relationship with his dad. I do not have to have any type of relationship with Ash, but Duke needs his daddy time. Any mother who thinks it does their child good to keep their children away from their father is in the wrong. It does not matter what happened between the two parents, the best solution is to pray for them along with allowing visitation. This is an important part of identity for the child. Fair parental rights is what is good for children. Love and be love and always pray every single day.
One summer in middle school a family from Nome brought their horses to Unalakleet. This was the first time I saw a horse in real life. I was in love with horses and they were beautiful. They fed along the coastal beach grazing on grass and could not be more picturesk. Nena was the name of the female horse. I was dared to ride her bareback when me and some friends drove out to the old dump site. I was up first, being assured my friends would hold the reigns and with the help of my sister and friends hopped on Nenas back. They started walking her and she took off full speed and I held on for about 30 seconds before she came to a complete stop and turned to her side almost as if to say “this ride is over.” I tumbled in the grass and did not get hurt. My knees were covered in grass stains, a small price to pay for my first horse ride. Then a younger friend was next, she got on, held on and was taken very far up the beach. We had to go get help because the horse did not stop for her, it just kept going.
The second time I rode a horse was in Fairbanks when I went to Rural Alaskas Honors Institute. We got to pick the horse that we wanted. I chose a male horse named Jessup. He was amazing and while all the other riders stayed on a slow pace, Jessup would stop to graze and then do a sprint to the group when they got a good distance from us. I got to go fast if only for a few seconds, I was in heaven and he did this the entire journey.
The third and last time I rode a horse was at the Cincinnati Horse Derby. My ex husbands Grandma owned horses she raced in Cincinnati, Ohio. She had a beautiful male white stallion. For exercise they tied them up to a rod with a leash that goes in a circle. I was able to ride him for a couple of minutes. We went round and round in a circle, posed for some pictures and that day her horse won at the races. We got to pose for pictures with the Jockey and her horse along with the blanket of flowers for the horse as well. It was all a splendid memory.
Someday I hope to own my very own horse. That would be amazing and the kind of work needed to take care of them, I’m willing.
During summer in high school my older sister and I worked at the fish plant in town. We earned our own money to order clothes for the following school year. We practiced dialogues in German for fun. I still remember the words and what each word means. Sometimes after a long work day, we would walk the circle around our village. We laughed and giggled and shared stories. Treasured moments that what would seem like hours, was only five minutes, as if time stood still from our laughter.
When I was a very young girl I grew up next to Maggie’s Grocery. A small snack shop and video rental that also sold soft serve ice cream. A family had just moved to our village. I was eating an ice cream one sunny day and my little sister ran up to me crying. She said the new sisters who moved to town were teasing her and being mean. I told her to show me where they were. They were living in my Aunts house not too far from where we lived and I asked why they were being mean to my sister. Without thinking about my actions I smeared the ice cream on the girls face, she ran home crying. That same day my mom found out what I had done. I was trying to stick up for my sister but I hurt someone’s feelings doing that. My mom made me go buy a new ice cream and give it to the girl I smeared in the face. It was very humbling at such a young age. I apologized and gave her the ice cream 🍦 after that I tried my best to not be mean, even when I stuck up for my siblings. Remember we are all given grace equally and that I am thankful for. Bless and be blessed! ❤️
When we grew up, each spring our family would go look for and gather eggs. All different types, every day for a couple of weeks was like Easter. Seagull eggs are green with brown dots, most bird eggs share similar characteristics with varying shapes and size. Duck, geese, swan, ptarmigan, arctic turn, and the small eggs we came across that we did not eat, we did not touch, it wasn’t allowed. When a human touches the eggs of birds in the wild, and does not gather them, the mother will abandon the nest.
I was always sure to carry a stick and wear a hoodie. Mother and father birds are fierce protectors of their nests. We had to be fast and nimble and in a sense cunning. Knowing what to look for on the flat tundra with many lakes. Myself and my four siblings were all very competitive when it came to who found the most eggs. I can remember where all the hot spots are. One summer our family went, what we call egg hunting, down the coast. We camped in a white wall tent on an island and it took maybe a day to cover many ground. I was running from lake to lake as fast as I could run. I was pretending to be in the Olympics hurdling event jumping over tall groups of grass. When I jumped over a good patch a ptarmigan flew out and I was so surprised, startled. I found five eggs. See, as soon as a birds nest becomes empty, they quickly lay more eggs. We do not gather eggs near the end of egging season, so that the chicks have a chance at surviving. We ate all the eggs boiled, sometimes my mom would make wild egg cakes or bake with them. The taste of fresh wild gathered eggs are more rich than chicken eggs. The consistency is rubbery for the whites and the yolk is creamier.
As spring nears month by month I miss harvesting fresh nutritious bounties. The first time I saw an ant was egg hunting. The first and only time I came across something amazing and unexplainable was egg hunting. It was a rock inlaid circle path, very old and very small on a tiny mound on the tundra. I showed it to my mom after I looked and admired this creation. It was a perfect spiral. I grew up believing it was made by the Ishigaqs, or what our culture refers to as small people. In our oral tradition we pass down legends of old. Most teach respect for nature and people alike. When I showed my discovery to my mom, she grabbed my hand and we were all of a sudden in a hurry to leave. Everyone had to go back to the boat to go hunting in a new spot. I hope to find it again one day and take a picture, of course only with my Moms approval. I remember the relative location of where it was.
I hope all of you are truly able to reminisce about good times in your life but never forgetting that each day is a new day for memories to be made. So we make the best of each day, for tomorrow is not promised. Love and be love ❤️
Pick a memory any memory. Chances are if I was in that memory I can recall it. I can remember, at will, any memory. Some memories I wish were a wash. We are all given memories, not to dwell on, but to learn from. I have the belief that memories are processed based on emotions, and the emotion of that memory gives the memory in depth detail. People have a tendency to remember trauma, an emotion on the extreme spectrum of emotional memorization. Memories that effect the rest of your life. People who are happy, and remember happy memories are rare. It could be something as simple as watching a bumblebee on a flower where the sun was shining just so as to amplify the colors of the yellow or the glass on the eye radiating in the sun, to the numerous fish jumping for flies in a river with fins gliding through the top of the water catching the sun just so. Embedded memories are etched in the brain for a reason. Poetry, hope, novelistic ideas or simply recalling joy. Either way, when you remember simplistic acts that most do not, do not doubt your gift. For it is a gift that is given to you for a reason, however unfounded. A person who appreciates beauty in all they see, embed that beauty in their mind as to not forget the beauty of life that is a gift. Life is a gift. Do you remember?