I Get By with a Little “Hope” from My Friends

I was completely striking out in my attempts to motivate my nephew to clean his apartment when he opened my eyes; “Pam, it is so bad, I just don’t know where to start.” 

That one bit of honesty moved me from frustration to empathy, remembering all the times I have bailed on initiatives because the prospect of starting was too demoralizing (like this morning, when I couldn’t load the dirty dishes because the dishwasher needed to be unloaded, but I couldn’t unload the dishwasher because I needed the counter space to do it and it was cluttered with pots and pans that needed to be put up first).

So I gave my nephew a starting place and, voila!, he was on his way with hope. (Which reminded me to put up my pots and pans.)

Some days, a little push from someone (into hope) goes a long way.

Two Minute Tune-up 8.21.11 No Easy Answers

(A poem, when son, Hudson, was nine)

 

My son stands outside the back door

In my dream

Before I let him in, I say

What’s that in your hands

There, behind your back?

Nothing, Mom.

But, from his eyes, he says,

The blood and water of our ancestors, of course,

Pulsing with the thrill of discovery,

The heat of the kill and

The chill of deception

And, oh, so many other things.

You know that, Mom.

I have all of this and so much more,

In this elaborate and delicate cage of time.

With complicated love,  I inch the door open and let him in

Straining for a moment to see all he conceals.

He flies down the hall and

I hear him

Disappear into his future.