All You Need Is... By Sharon Flood Kasenberg

 Enough Already!

If you believe the story
that all of us were told,
or see an allegory,
then might I be so bold
as to suggest you give heed
to what I have to say?
Love is really all we need
to get on Christmas Day.

While Covid makes you lonely
and may have cramped your style,
stay with your household only
and try to find your smile.
It's an exaggeration
to say there can't be cheer
without big celebration
in this pandemic year.

If you are hale and able
to buy a bird to roast;
though few sit at your table
you're better off than most.
So try to find your merry,
admire the stars above -
life is extraordinary
if all you get is love.

By Sharon Flood Kasenberg, December 21, 2020


Like the rest of you, this isn't the Christmas I wanted. Our family has always had quiet, insular Christmas celebrations with our immediate family, but I started this year with high hopes of hosting friends from Brazil. I spent the first few months thinking of fun things we could do together, and the next several months hoping that somehow this pandemic would end quickly enough that it might still happen. By August I had given up on that dream.

2020 has been a year of major adjustments for our family. The year started with my mom having serious health issues. As a result she decided (reluctantly) to move to assisted living. Half of her possessions were moved into her new place when all of those plans were put on hold in mid-March. Her life, and the lives of myself and two siblings were rather chaotic for several months as a result. 

If that wasn't enough drama in the midst of a pandemic, my son's marriage broke up too. It was a quick clean cut - a shock to the system, and the fact I had been blissfully ignorant of his unhappiness made me feel inadequate as a parent. The one bright spot in the midst of this change was that he planned to come home for Christmas, and for several months I hoped that I'd have guests from Brazil, my younger son, and then possibly his new girlfriend as well, all here for Christmas!

This was going to be a once in a lifetime kind of Christmas, and naturally I'm a bit blue that it isn't going as planned.

I grew up in a family with five siblings, two parents who loved to entertain, and a grandmother - all under one roof. Christmas in our household was fun, busy, chaotic and filled with good food and entertainment. When I married an only child (with a mother who never even bothered to put up a Christmas tree!) - my big family Christmases ended. It was a mutual decision between my husband and myself. When we first married, I worked retail and he was a graduate student. We didn't own a car, and each got four days off over Christmas, so it just didn't make sense to spend money we didn't have on bus tickets to the Soo, and spend two of those precious days traveling. In honesty, I think my husband was every bit as reluctant to be bombarded with a noisy household full of Floods as I was to spend four days in Windsor with a mother-in-law I had dubbed "the Grinch". We made the difficult decision to stay put and have our Christmases alone, telling our parents that we would be happy to host them in future years. It's a decision neither of us has regretted.

That first Christmas was difficult - partly because we both had the flu and ate nothing but chicken soup! The following year we were busy with a three month old baby, and the year after we had a toddler and a newborn! Christmas with my own little family became the new normal. Making the season fun for my boys became my first priority. We developed our own rituals and borrowed liberally from Flood family traditions. I'll even confess that when my sons were young I was secretly relieved that I didn't have to monitor their sugared up high spirits on Christmas Day in front of their somewhat crotchety grandfather. 

After my father died, when my sons were eight and nine, we took our place in my mother's Christmas visiting rotation. It was gratifying to host my mom, and to have her help, and her company, in the kitchen over the holidays. (Too much time alone in the kitchen has always been my only complaint about doing "our own" Christmas.)

I love our quiet family celebrations - the very same kind of celebration that most of you are balking at this year! I understand the appeal of lots of friends and family, of parties and noise and lots of laughter - those were the Christmases of my childhood - however, I can attest to the fact that quieter celebrations with only the people who ordinarily dwell under your roof can be just as wonderful. Granted, most of those Christmases we had a few parties and concerts to attend, and those are things we will all miss this year. Still, the internet has more offerings than ever right now, and we can watch performances by some of the best musicians in the world without purchasing expensive tickets, traveling to far flung venues or putting on pants!

My husband and I get along well, and we both enjoy an easy, relaxed rapport with our sons. I am beyond grateful for that, especially knowing that these last nine months have been very difficult for people who live with difficult situations and relationships at home. I know that familiarity can breed contempt, but if you are so sick of our husband or kids that Christmas alone with them seems like dire punishment, then you have much bigger problems in your life than too few guests at your beautifully set table.

This is the year to connect more creatively. Since May, we have been having a weekly video chat and game playing night with our son in Boston. A few times, one of the students we hosted from Brazil joined in too! I am so grateful for the technology that enables these fun evenings; for messages that can be exchanged almost instantaneously, and the baking tutorials and recipe exchanges that allow my son to have a taste of home while living in the United States.

Christmas isn't cancelled because the entire clan can't gather under one roof! Like so many other things in our lives, our attitude toward the holidays this year determines the outcome.

That brings me to the second half of this post...

Last year (after a few really difficult winters), I came to the sad reality that SAD is a reality in my life. I have experienced mental illness first hand, and observed long term depression in a loved one for years. When you are in the grip of depression, you aren't able to just "buck up" and "change your attitude" on a dime. In 2019, I basically became a hermit as soon as the days started becoming short and dark, so nine months of relative isolation (as in being isolated except for the closest relatives, lol) has seemed a lot more like about fourteen months for me. Being fairly introverted has made this bearable, but I still really miss seeing friends from less than two metres away, and getting the occasional hug from someone other than my husband, son or mother.

I don't enjoy having to keep my distance all the time, but because my conscience is healthy, and my mental health sometimes fragile, I know that if I infected someone around me with Covid-19 because I felt I "needed" a hug, that would be more danger to my mental health than wearing a mask and maintaining physical distance ever could.

While I'm in confession mode, I'll also admit to being more than a touch claustrophobic. I don't enjoy wearing a mask, but again, I see it as a necessity. I have a strong constitution, and I know it's a distinct possibility that I could be Covid-19 positive and carry this virus to someone else by getting too close to them. My husband tells me that if fear of harming others was graded on a scale from one to ten I would be at least a nine point five. It is worth an hour of discomfort to mask up before I buy groceries, run errands or go anywhere in public.

By necessity, this Christmas will be unlike any other we will celebrate. That doesn't mean it has to be horrible. We can still visit friends and family - outside, and from a safe distance. We can still have fun - with the people we live with. We can be stoic about not giving others the hugs we crave too, because we want all of us to be around to give and receive hugs for many years to come.

Most of you will have my usual Christmas this year. It's not so bad. I will have my usual Christmas this year too, and while I'll be sad about not seeing my son and his girlfriend, or hosting guests from Brazil, I will be satisfied to know that by living in accordance with current restrictions, and more importantly following my conscience, I am keeping myself and others as safe as I can.

I will find some "merry" because I am fortunate; I love the people I live with, and I know I am protecting those I don't live with by forgoing hugs and holiday meals.

Let's stop complaining. Enough is enough. Believe me when I say it one more time - our sacrifices are our surest and best way of showing love.

Love is all we really need to find some joy in this holiday season.

First Place: Why Affordable Housing Matters -By Sharon Flood Kasenberg

First House

In memories of yesteryear
I see that house - large and austere
that we so yearned for, long we sought
house of our own before we bought.
Our first meal there I'll not forget -
we didn't have a table yet -
but pizza picnic on the floor
was heaven; who could ask for more?
The wallpaper just didn't suit,
I tackled it, quite resolute
to older owners' taste erase
and put my own stamp on my place.
Six years we lived within those walls,
our lively voices filled the halls,
and when at last that home we left
tears freely fell - we were bereft.

Sharon Flood Kasenberg, Nov 2, 2020

When my husband decided to run for mayor of our municipality he decided that affordable housing would be one of his key issues. It was a subject that hit very close to home. When we decided to move to a more rural setting, our grown son decided he would come with us, his hope being that he would find employment here and be able to buy his own home nearby "a few years down the road".

He quickly found a full time position at one of the local factories nearby, and immediately began saving. None of us anticipated the quick, steep rise in real estate prices in the area. Within a year prices had risen by 50%, and within two years homes were selling for about 90% more than they were when we had purchased. This was great news for sellers and real estate agents, but a horrible situation for young people such as our son, who were hoping to buy their first home.

Sam has been banking most of his pay cheque for more than four years now, and has a pretty impressive down payment accumulated. In fact, he has 80% of the total cost of the first house Todd and I bought sitting in his bank account! Sadly, given his current wage he couldn't qualify for a mortgage on a shack - not even if he put a third of the total cost on the table as a down payment!

He isn't alone in his inability to gain a foothold on the local housing ladder. North Perth is a community with an abundance of low paying jobs available. At any given time, two or three of the factories will be actively recruiting workers, and in order to remain fully staffed, local industry buses people in from nearby communities. Stores and restaurants always have signs in windows. This is a community with a job surplus - sounds like paradise, right?

Wrong. The workers that are bused into our town take the pay they earn here and spend it elsewhere. If they could afford to live here, they would be contributing to the community and the local economy, but like my son, they can't find affordable housing.

Houses are being built here all the time, but they tend to be large, expensive family homes that are appealing to wealthy retirees and big city folk who view the town as a "bedroom community" for Kitchener/Waterloo. They are used to the amenities in larger centers, and are willing to drive an hour for shopping and entertainment. They don't tend to shop locally, or get involved in local affairs. Other than tax dollars, they contribute little to the town they live in. However, in the not-distant future, a lot of these people will be older and less inclined to trek back and forth to the city; they will suddenly want to shop and dine here, but without adequate housing for waitresses, retail workers and others who would gladly live, work, and actively contribute to the economy, it seems likely that a decade from now, when our recent McMansion purchasers want to utilize amenities and services, we will have fewer to offer them. 

If, on the other hand, we were to find developers who were willing to build small, affordable houses that factory workers, waitresses and retail employees could afford, our town would be in a position to expand its current amenities and services. These are people who would work here, shop here and play here. If we continue to build, and market, homes that will be purchased by retirees willing to pay more than homes are worth - simply because they are selling their current homes for an even more inflated value - we deprive ourselves of the very citizens that will keep our town vital for years to come.

Allow me to switch gears for a bit and tell you the story of how my husband and I purchased our first home...

When we married, Todd was a graduate student and I worked retail. We were very much "working class poor" - especially after I proved to be a fertile Myrtle who had two surprise pregnancies in the first two years of our marriage! With a toddler and infant to look after, it was no longer feasible for me to work retail, and I wasn't really qualified to do anything else. There was no government-sponsored daycare then, and my parents and mother-in-law lived in other cities. If I had gone back to work, 75% of my pay would've gone to the babysitter, and the other 25% would've been eaten up by transportation costs and a new "work wardrobe" (trust me - you don't have two babies in two years without moving up a size or two.) We didn't have money for me to re-train for a more lucrative career, and furthermore, I wanted to stay home with my sons. We lived like paupers in a housing co-op, dreaming of the day when home ownership would become a possibility. 

I get very frustrated when people brag about "earning their own way" and being "self made". The truth of the matter is that getting ahead financially depends on a whole raft of factors that we often have no control over. There is a lot of "poor shaming" that goes on when people struggle financially. It seems that some who are financially lucky (and yes, lucky IS the word) find comfort in believing that those who are less fortunate are "lazy" or "made bad choices". Let me set you straight if you have been guilty of applying those labels. My husband has worked hard our entire marriage. We budget carefully and don't make extravagant purchases. We live in a big house because it was a bargain, costing us considerably less than the home we sold in Kitchener. We struggled for years, and are still far from rich. But I digress...

We thought, in those early years of marriage and parenthood, that a house of our own was a very distant dream. And then one day I got a call from my husband's grandmother, and that staunch prairie woman told me in her blunt way that she was dying of cancer and intended to give us a one-time cash gift while she was still alive so none of us would have the hassle of paying inheritance taxes. By today's standards this gift was a pittance but because we had lived so frugally, it allowed us to wipe out what debts we had and still have enough for a down payment on a modest home.

So I have to ask this question to all of those "self made" individuals - did you really achieve all of your success by yourself, or did you have some help along the way? I'm not ashamed to be honest; we were able to purchase when we did - six years into our marriage - because Todd's no-nonsense Grandma helped us out.

We shopped for months before we found the house we wanted, and I can tell you that stepping into our first house felt like Christmas Day, the best birthday ever, and the excitement I'd felt about becoming a parent all rolled up in one big bundle! We had furniture for half the rooms in the house, and our kids slept on mattresses on the floor until my parents bought them twin beds as a housewarming gift. We scrimped and saved to buy paint and a bit of wallpaper. We took out carpeting and refinished floors. We both knew full well when we walked through those doors that we had a lot of hard work and sacrifice ahead of us. We didn't care - we finally had a home of our own, and a mortgage payment that was less expensive than the rent we had been paying.

I want you to let that last sentence sink in. My son Sam could get an apartment in the North Perth area that would cost him $1600.00 per month. The landlord wouldn't care if he ate KD every day of the week to make the rental payment, and would simply evict him if he couldn't. On the other hand, no bank would give him approval for a mortgage payment that costs half as much, because "he wouldn't be able to afford it". 

That friends, is why we need to find reasonable housing solutions! Why should landlords get rich while tenants get caught in a cycle of paying rents that are so outrageous that they will never be able to invest in a home? Why should we cater only to the affluent in terms of the housing options we offer as a community? Where are the "angels" who will invest in housing the "working class poor" the way Grandma K. invested in us? Where are the innovators who will consider "out of the box" solutions to housing. (I mean that literally - have you looked at some of the amazing factory-built and modular housing options that are available - out there....somewhere...?)

Why can't they become available here? Our community needs the kind of citizens who would buy them.

My son is actually quite fortunate. Our large home has an undeveloped attic that he is now thinking of having finished for himself. Furthermore, the three of us get along really well, and we have agreed that if the attic is his option, we will enter into an agreement with him that makes him a co-owner of our home. Not every single, working class Joe or Joan has parents with a gigantic attic that they can convert, or parents that they get along well enough with to even consider that sort of arrangement an option.

The wealthy among us buy and buy. Most lose that sense of profound gratitude and wonder for their home by the time they've moved three or four rungs up the property ladder... on which so many of our kids currently struggle to get a toe hold.

I can't speak for the rest of you, but I want my sons to experience that. We can do better. We need to do better. Our hardworking kids deserve better.

Sober Second Thought - By Sharon Flood Kasenberg

On Second Thought...

A plea for sober second thought
is what I will attempt
in era rife with issues hot
and posts full of contempt.
Consider that your friends may think
far differently than you -
unless, of course, to raise a stink
is what you want to do!
Consider posting sources for
the "facts" that you display.
Consider people you adore
and don't want to dismay!
Just stop to think, "Is this post nice?
Am I sure I'm correct?"
New adage now - "Post once; think twice,
and try to show respect!"
It seems to me we're all on edge
and ought to show more care.
Is this post a divisive wedge,
or one I ought to share?

-by Sharon Flood Kasenberg, July 29, 2020


This is the longest hiatus I've ever taken from writing since I began this blog more than nine years ago. Never before have I struggled so much to write anything. The chaos in the world right now leaves me feeling bogged down; I'm mentally and emotionally exhausted a lot of the time - my patience is often as short as my days (and nights!) are long.

I'd love to be able to feel that looking in on social media is a pleasant break in my day - a chance to connect with friends in an otherwise disconnected world - but that hasn't been my experience. Even Facebook Messenger, which has been my primary source of genuine connection with family and friends afar, has occasionally been hijacked by those who want to spam every person on their friends list with the latest conspiracy theory they have bought into. A few others have felt a strong need to reprimand me for expressing an opinion contrary to their own. In one case, a "friend" blasted me with such unbridled vitriol that I became convinced this was an individual who never really liked me much in the first place. Needless to say, this person has been unfriended. Ironically, she accused me of "toxic negativity" in her rant, which was the very definition thereof.

Since then I have been very cautious in my interactions online. I have strong opinions about many things, and on the rare occasions when I've expressed them I've done so very gingerly, choosing both words and tone carefully. I don't like conflict, and I don't want to be someone who instigates it. I have carefully culled my Facebook friends; unfriended a few, unfollowed many, and hit "hide this post" more times than most could imagine. You are all entitled to your opinions, and I am entitled to avoid those that I find upsetting, unsettling, and generally bad for my mental health.

One friend posted a meme that said, "If you're not hearing much from me right now, take it personally." I understand the sentiment. If you speak up loudly in vocal support of orange and oily politicians, or basically any of the causes such folk espouse, I have long since stopped following your posts. If you are anti-science, anti vaccine, or convinced that Covid-19 is a hoax, I no longer expose myself to your rants.

My husband is much more diplomatic than I am. He says he feels that he needs to see "a cross-section of opposing ideas" in his feed. Here's my take - some of what I see online these days makes me feel as comfortable around you as I would be around someone who would proudly proclaim -

"I ate someone yesterday! And I'm going to eat someone else tomorrow!"

Now I know a person's dietary choices are their own business, and it's not like this person has invited me over to dine (or be dined upon!), but gosh - I just can't quite bring myself to feel comfortable around anyone who makes this particular statement. What I believe is good and "normal" feels threatened when I hear such things, and therefore, by extension, the person who made this utterance within earshot of me is now viewed as a shady character. I'm not even going to apologize for seeing it that way.

When I hear you bragging about your "right" to not wear a mask, I feel frightened for everyone who comes into contact with you. When I hear you say you won't be vaccinated when a vaccine is developed, I shake my head in disbelief. When I see posts that proclaim how ignorant you are, I just want to avoid you. I'm sorry if that makes me seem like an intolerant person in your eyes, but the one thing I have no fear of being intolerant of is the arrogance that makes some feel that they know better than the best scientists and brightest minds on the planet.

Everyone has had to make sacrifices during this pandemic. I have a son in the USA who I will probably not see for a year or more. I miss him a lot. I have former students I've hosted living in Italy and Brazil, and the way things are going I wonder sometimes if I'll ever see those kids again - if the world will ever "normalize" enough that getting on a plane to go that far will be affordable - or an option at all...

I'm sorry if you think that wearing a mask for half an hour in Walmart is the ultimate sacrifice, but to me it seems like a little thing when compared to not seeing a family member for a year or more, or, in a worst case scenario, having a family member die alone from Covid-19. If it makes you feel any better about doing it, I'll tell you that I really appreciate you wearing that mask - I'm pushing sixty and diabetic, and married to someone with severe asthma. Furthermore, I'm more than a tad claustrophobic, and yet somehow I can manage wearing a mask for an hour, as can my asthmatic spouse.

Speaking of my husband, for those of you who clamour for our politicians, on all levels, to give up their paycheques, let me say this:

Municipal politics in this country isn't exactly a big money-maker. (If you think our politicians are spoiled, read up on what politicians in Brazil are paid. It might help you appreciate Canada a bit more.) My husband calculates that for the hours he puts in these days, he makes about eight dollars an hour. Considering that contracts in his "real" job are almost all on indefinite hold, every single bit he brings in is necessary. Please, think twice before you lump all politicians into the greedy bastard category, okay?

I want you all to know this:

• I take Covid-19 seriously. I believe it's real and dangerous. If you don't, that's a problem for me, because if you don't socially distance AND wear a mask when you are near me, you put both of us at risk. My health might mean little to you, but my conscience works overtime. I don't want to be responsible for anyone's illness or death, and I genuinely believe it's possible for me to carry this virus without exhibiting any symptoms. 

• I believe that even if the dangers of Covid-19 are grossly exaggerated (and I'm pretty certain they're not), it can't possibly hurt to be as cautious and considerate of each other as possible. I cringe when I see pictures of large family gatherings online, of crowded beaches and tourist attractions. I know that now we "can" meet in larger groups, but in my opinion, that doesn't mean we should. I'm happy to enjoy a socially distanced visit, but please don't be upset that I don't want to shake hands, hug you, or sit too close. I promise that it isn't personal, and I will hug you again when it is safe. For now, will you just humour me, even if you think I'm being a bit of a fanatic?

• I believe that the economy isn't nearly as important as peoples' lives, that school isn't the only place our kids can learn, that going without a pool or splash pad for a summer isn't going to seriously endanger anyone's mental health, and that we all need to "chill out" in more productive ways.

I've said it before and I'll say it again - we don't need to comment on every post we see. We can just scroll on by most of them, hide the ones that are most odious to us, unfollow or even un-friend those who post almost nothing we agree with.

Life is short, and if times like these haven't hammered that message home then nothing will. Stay safe and be kind.

Think twice.

The Powerful "In-Between" By Sharon Flood Kasenberg

The In-Between

Life's misery at times I've known;
it gives me cause to grieve -
on rocky shoals I have been thrown -
still, I choose to believe.
In spite of all the hurt I've seen
that was hard to forgive,
it's all the moments in between
that make me want to live.
I cling to moments between pain -
good days I won't forget.
I know I will be hurt again,
but I'm not beaten yet.
I want this to be understood
when from this sphere I'm gone:
The in-between days, they were good;
they kept me hanging on.
Perfection wasn't what I sought -
I disappointed too -
and when with anguish life was fraught
I simply muddled through.
I fiercely held to this belief -
some pain is worth the cost.
I learned that what defines real grief
is in-between days...lost.

By Sharon Flood Kasenberg, April 14, 2020

Life in the time of Covid-19 has exposed us to a disproportionate amount of disappointment. The long days of isolation and self-denial we're experiencing now perhaps help us paint a rosier picture than is merited of "life as it was." I can't speak for the rest of you, but, for the most part, my life isn't that much less exciting than it was in February. The things that made those days better were brief hours - and sometimes only moments - that were scattered among my daily routines; brief intervals in an otherwise fairly mundane schedule that added flavour to my life the same way a sprinkling of salt makes a bland meal palatable.

I miss those small things a lot - a visit with a friend from less than ten feet away, a walk that allows me to daydream, or just admire the scenery, without being ever vigilant about maintaining the proper distance from anyone I might encounter; a trip to the library, or a relaxing browse in a store. These are all small sacrifices.

Of course there are some bigger ticket items that most of us have to deny ourselves right now. We all have family and friends we can't currently visit with, places we want to go, and plans put on indefinite hold. I think what we really miss is the element of certainty that we used to take for granted; the ability to pencil something into our schedule - plan something ahead of time and enjoy the thrill of anticipation knowing that on a specific day in the future we were going to have a treat to look forward to. Presently we look forward to all kinds of things, we just have no idea when they will actually happen.

There are a lot of unpleasant feelings that accompany our uncertainty. Most of us are creatures of habit, and we like feeling like we can control when and how we accomplish our established tasks. Now, for many of us, days are largely unstructured. We often feel bored, vaguely annoyed, or frustrated by our circumstances. Sometimes we lack motivation, and other days we are raring to go, but every project we attempt gets stymied by something needed that isn't on hand, and can't be readily obtained.  It seems likely that most of us will look back on our days of social distancing and paint them in bleaker hues than they deserved. These days are apt to provide us with fodder for hard luck stories we will pass on to future generations - our own versions of the infamous "I waded though four feet of snow - uphill both ways! - to get through the pandemic!" 

I've had a lot of time to muse on the way we remember our lives in hindsight, and concluded that we exaggerate both the best and the worst of our experiences. Oddly, we pay very little attention to the rest of our lives - the majority of our lives - the "in-between days" that were neither great nor miserable; days that simply were. I've said this before - none of us routinely live up to our best moments, or live down to our worst. Our true selves live somewhere in-between; running in circles and trying to stay in the game out in midfield.

The importance of those seemingly insignificant times has been brought to mind recently, as my grown sons have jogged fragments of memory in long forgotten brain files. My request for Mother's Day was simple this year. Not being a fan of cut flowers, I made a simple request of each of them. I asked both to share their thoughts on the most important lesson I'd taught them. Once again I was surprised by how much impact small, everyday habits and happenings had on their lives. As my older son put it, "Mom, the best lessons you taught me were the ones that you never consciously set out to teach. They just happened spontaneously."

My younger son cited a few very "in-between day" habits that I had nurtured, little things that I didn't give a lot of thought to at the time; pragmatic Mom-ish suggestions for amusements that didn't cost a lot of money. Ways we could spend time together that kept all three of us busily entertained. There were no epic "once in a lifetime" days mentioned in the answers I received, just recollections of things that were a regular part of very ordinary days. There were no heroic moments of awesome parenting mentioned either, just observations of me being me.

In our relationships with others we take mundane days for granted. We keep our eyes peeled for feats of strength and endurance that qualify our nearest and dearest for love and admiration. We endlessly replay, and perhaps overly glorify, the award winning moments when we (or our spouse, child, or parent) really shone. Those podium worthy moments stay with us, and mollify doubts that our lives are overwhelmingly average.

Likewise, we are haunted by those moments when our worst actions, or those of a loved one, caused us to feel hurt, embarrassed, or ashamed. We tell ourselves that those events were too horrifying and egregious to be forgotten. We worry that these crimes mark us as irredeemable. Fear of repeating our misdeeds, and backsliding into behaviors we know we are capable of, make us feel paranoid. The truth is that most of civilization isn't likely to dwell on our mistakes. We may have to live through an unpleasant fifteen minutes of notoriety, but just as surely as our stellar moments are soon forgotten, our crimes will fade from memory too.

What most people will remember about us are the everyday, "in-between" things that probably seem insignificant. They'll remember the times we laughed at their jokes, the offhand hug we gave them on the day we didn't know they needed one, and the hours of humdrum time we logged together. Others are often most attentive to us in the moments we completely forget ourselves - when we are excited, passionate, lost in revelry, or preoccupied by some mundane task. They are filing away memories of the nonsense we spew, and the occasional profound statement that slips out (when neither of us are expecting it!) and the odd little traits that make us who we are. They are absorbing all of the lessons we teach without meaning to - the wisdom we have that is inherently our own.

Every in-between day counts. Our lives are measured in moments the less enlightened can easily miss, or worse yet, dismiss. Whether our relationships fail, or flourish, is largely dependent on our ability to look beyond the best and worst actions of those around us, and cling to the truth that lies in that middle ground. Optimism thrives when we cling tenaciously to the ordinary moments, and allow the dogged days that challenge us to make us vulnerable to failure, to misery, to boredom and frustration. Who needs hope when life is consistently easy? Plants bloom best after a season of dormancy, and perhaps people do too.

Once upon a time I lived a normal life - not too exciting, but comfortably predictable. It was full of people, activities, and events that I took for granted. Then came the pandemic - months of tedious "in-between" days that were not as bad as I'll someday recount them as being. It was a period full of days that simply were; they came, they went, and from the moment I awoke on each day, until the moment my restless mind and body succumbed to slumber, I had lots of unscheduled hours to think about everything - and everyone - I took for granted. I spent a lot of time during those days assessing myself, my life, my relationships, and my feelings, hopes and opinions. It was a time full of lessons I didn't mean to be taught, as I contemplated how the world might change, and how my world would evolve.

There is no "happily ever after" guaranteed at the end of this tale, and the unwritten ending depends on how the tale unfolds between the introduction and the final flourish on the page.

Don't waste this pause between a glorified past and an uncertain future. Make these in-between days count. Use this pause from ordinary life to think, create, dream and love. Promise yourself you will never take "ordinary" for granted again, and will always pay attention to the lessons you are, unintentionally, teaching and being taught.

Never underestimate the power of days "in between."

Cry, Scream, Breathe, Pause, and Reset - By Sharon Flood Kasenberg

Recently a Facebook friend inspired me with a poignant post about how, after days of dealing admirably with the unique challenges brought on by self distancing, parenting, and working from home during a pandemic, she woke up one day unable to hold back tears.

I get it. I had a rough winter - holiday blues, an ailing mom that required a lot of my time and attention in January, a virulent cold that kept me in for much of February...and then along came March, and I enjoyed a whopping two weeks of normalcy before life became surreal. In short, while it has been a month since my self distancing efforts officially began, I feel like I have been unofficially living in a state of "mostly isolation" since 2020 began.

I was a very good sport about social distancing for the first fourteen days. I naively thought that a few weeks of collective effort would get us over the Coronavirus hump; the curve would start to flatten, and life would get back to normal. What were a few more weeks of denying myself outings and visits with friends in the grand scheme of things? I could do this!

Two weeks went by...the period of self distancing was extended until the end of April...and, like my Facebook friend, I began to feel the strain as all kinds of uncertainties took hold. Days became more lethargic, nights became longer. I slept poorly and felt flat.

Then one day, like my friend, I found myself getting teary eyed over everything, and when I read her post it resonated with me and inspired this poem.

Cry - By Sharon Flood Kasenberg

Cry your tears of yearning.
Cry your tears of pain.
Cry for what you're learning -
wisdom you'll retain.
Cry for all you're missing -
pleasures now denied;
cheeks you would be kissing
were there no divide.

Crying in confusion,
with my thoughts adrift -
soggy brain's conclusion -
my life is a gift.
With tears freely flowing,
heart is fertile earth
into which I'm sowing
some kind of rebirth.

Planted in pandemic,
seeds are sure to sprout.
Lest they grow dysthymic
thoughts get weeded out.
Friendships once neglected
from ashes arise;
feelings resurrected
take us by surprise.

Cry out in your longing
for all those afar.
Cry tears of belonging
with those where you are.
Cry in isolation,
spare all tears of grief -
safe from devastation
we'll cry in relief.

Adapting to the rapid changes entailed in keeping careful distance from each other has been difficult for all of us. Keeping to ourselves and staying in the house most of the time has been hard on all of us. Being ever vigilant about staying two meters away from people in stores and on walks can be downright mentally exhausting. I am starting to have nightmares about random people getting too close to me on the street, or, even more sweat inducing dreams where someone actually touches me! I am getting frustrated by how many items on any given shopping list can't be purchased because shelves in the store were bare. I get tired of spending time with the same three people, and missing the faces of friends - and familymembers who aren't living under my roof. I miss going to the library, chatting with the ladies in my book club, browsing in stores, attending Toastmasters meetings...

You get the picture. We're all missing our normal pleasurable routines that involve friends and extended family members, and we're all feeling bored, tired, lonely, anxious and frustrated.

Generally speaking I feel like I'm handling pandemic life with some sense of decorum. Unlike many, I get dressed every day. I try to be somewhat productive and don't binge watch Netflix. I do take walks. I can mostly handle living within the new boundaries imposed by Covid-19.

The hard part of managing life during a pandemic is that I still have the problems I had before this began - they didn't miraculously disappear. The injustice of this fact stings me daily. Our ordinary, everyday, preexisting challenges are still ongoing, and as unfair as it is, new problems still arise and tragedies still occur that further complicate my pandemic angst. Life goes on - the good, the bad, and the ugly.

I miss the good things that are presently denied, but I find myself more appreciative than ever for those I still have access to - sunshine and blue skies, a good meal, an amusing conversation or heartfelt chat with a friend, a good belly laugh, or a hug from one of the two people I'm allowed to hug.

As for the bad and the ugly - they hit me with a wallop that leaves me reeling. Far too often I am besieged by a sense of powerlessness. I can't rush to anyone's aid, and I can't easily escape my frustrations in any sense of the word.  At times it feels like multiple problems laugh at the idea of socially distancing from each other, and instead link hands defiantly, daring me to take a run at them all at once. The "problems of real life" vs. Sharon, spurring me into reaction in an Olympic class game that challenges my mental strength -

"Red rover, red rover - we call Sharon over!"

Yeah world - thanks - I needed that. (Not.)

We are all in the same boat, and I can't speak for the rest of you, but I'm just trying to stay afloat. You can be as stalwart as you like, and blink away whatever tears threaten to roll down your cheeks, but I'm giving myself permission to cry. Vulnerability is its own form of strength. It takes courage to admit to sometimes feeling momentarily defeated. I'm giving myself permission to feel. It's not always going to be pretty, but that's okay. We all have a lot of emotion to purge, and we need to find healthy ways to do that.

Purge - By Sharon Flood Kasenberg

Purge yourself of all the fear you feel.
Let it out with every breath you hold.
Give your inner angst a form that's real -
let your screams be loud; your tears be bold.
Unlock deepest chasms of your mind
and purge the negativity therein.
Replace the darkness with some thoughts more kind -
reset your hollow core; anew begin.

Find positive ways to help you purge your negative emotions. I'm pouring my heart into poetry tossing darts like my life depends on hitting high triples and bullseyes. I'm talking to friends as often as I can, baking with a vengeance...I'm doing my best to cope with all of the problems life has the gall to serve up in spite of a pandemic! So are you.

Let it out - cry. Scream if you need to. Then breathe, pause, and reset. This isn't over yet. Life can feel overwhelming at the best of times, and getting through a pandemic intact requires collective effort.

Basic Math in the Age of A Coronavirus - By Sharon Flood Kasenberg

Pandemic Math

Formulate a new equation,
calculate a way to cope;
isolate from new contagion,
tabulate what offers hope.

Subtract all selfishness and greed,
react with added kindness -
Impact the world by meeting need;
extract your urge to blindness.

Division isn't what's required -
derision must be bested.
Decisions should be more inspired;
revision is requested.

Exemplify: All must attempt
to multiply endeavour.
We must comply - none are exempt.
Do or die - now, or never.

By Sharon Flood Kasenberg, March 23, 2020

My world has changed over the past ten days, as a crisis that seemed terrible, but was comfortably far from home, suddenly crashed my comfort zone.

I paid very little attention to the novel Coronavirus (cause of COVID-19) until Northern Italy started going into lockdown. Messaging with Nico, the student we hosted from Genoa, made me begin to consider the life changes a pandemic initiates.

"We go nowhere now - except my parents go to work," he told me.

As the horror stories from Italy began to mount, so did my concerns for Nico, and for his parents who are both nurses.

Then, almost overnight I began to witness panic buying in the stores. The virus was moving much closer to home, and the people around me were divided - some still claiming this was nothing but another flu bug, others hunkering down into full-out survivalist mode. Essential products disappeared from grocery store shelves for days on end as hoarders stockpiled ridiculous amounts of toilet paper, cleaning products, paper towels and bread...every day seemed to bring a run on new items.

That's when I realized that we need to develop new types of mathematics to help us live peacefully within society during these days of social distancing, self-isolation, and quarantines. I'll elaborate on a few of the equations I've been working out as I try to solve the problems that this unique situation has presented.

Toilet Paper Math

I never would've imagined the day would come when news of a pandemic would send people out in droves to stock up on bottom wipes. It's ironic to me that toilet paper - which has seemingly become the ultimate symbol of civilization - has caused such incredible scenes of incivility at Costcos and Walmarts around the globe! Apparently a lot of people think they need to have enough on hand to last a decade. Either that, or they have never consciously considered how much they actually need to get through a few weeks.

I live in a household with four toilets and five adults, and based on how much is left from the thirty roll package I bought two weeks ago we have enough left to last us another 14 - 16 days. Thankfully stores have begun to limit how much of it you can buy, so when we start to run out I should be able to buy another thirty roll package and rest easy for another month, without worrying that some nutter has emptied the shelves again for the sake of filling up another room with the stuff!

Newsflash: Hoarding is the reason we have disruptions in the supply chain!

If we all relax a bit - take stock of what we already have, plan how we will use it, and then buy only what we really need in order to get through the next few weeks - we will all manage to meet our needs sufficiently. We need to subtract our urge to look out for ourselves first, and add a little faith in each other into the mix when we calculate our needs. If we are really convinced that nobody will come to our aid when we are in dire need of something, then we are missing something in our lives that is far more important than toilet paper, Lysol or bread.

Household Harmony Math

Family members + boredom + staying inside = a whole lot of potential misery.

There are a few things we can subtract from this equation, and a few things we can add to it, in order to come up with a far more positive solution.

First, the subtractions. Some will disagree, but so far we haven't all been ordered to stay inside our homes, and daily walks have been my salvation. Take your kids outside. Let them run a bit and get some fresh air. I say take your kids outside because you want to be certain they are distancing themselves from anybody else who wants a bit of air and exercise. Take advantage of the fact that you are home too, and play with them.

Are your kids complaining of boredom? Add some conversation into the equation. Read a book together and discuss it, or start a discussion jar full of subjects that interest your kids. Research topics together. Add some stimulation to the mix - teach them a new skill, or play a new game with them. Challenge them to increase vocabulary by learning to use a new word each day. Teach them all the things you wish your parents had taught you - this is an ideal opportunity for learning and growing together, since there are fewer distractions. Share your thoughts on the pandemic. We often underestimate how capable our children are of understanding what's going on in the world around them. Add opportunities for them to share their thoughts, fears and feelings.

My children are grown, but every household has its challenges right now. We all need to multiply our efforts to be considerate of each other. Being largely housebound together is more familiarity than most of us really want, and familiarity does breed contempt. Share the chips and don't hog the cookies! Clean up after yourself! Become resigned to the fact that there might be a new division of labour as there are more bodies idling around the house at a time when disinfecting surfaces is necessary for everyone's health, and orderliness is vital to some people's sanity!

Social Distancing Math

Every person who comes within coughing distance of us increases our chances of not only becoming infected, but of turning us into a carrier who can, in turn, infect the people around us. The scariest thing about this slippery virus is its unpredictability. Severity varies greatly, with some cases being completely asymptomatic, some manifesting as a mild cold or flu, and others becoming critical or fatal. Some might try to justify visits with friends and recreational shopping trips by saying, "Why not? We're young and healthy! You can't really expect us to completely stop hanging out with all our friends?"

Sorry kids, but that's exactly what most of us expect. I don't want to see you shopping with your friends for everyone's sake. Maybe controversially, I don't want to see your whole family - dad, mom, kids - in the essential stores. They've stopped that in Italy. We probably should do that voluntarily now too.

None of us are safe in making the assumption that we are virus-free, which is why social distancing measures have been recommended. Now is not the time for hugs and handshakes. Connect with your family and friends, but do it safely! My son has had a cold, and I haven't touched him in over a week. (I'll really enjoy hugging him again.) I haven't gotten within six feet of any of my friends since my last Toastmasters meeting eleven days ago - and even then we kept our distance from each other and only elbow bumped.

I have been dismayed, on the few occasions that I've ventured out to buy necessities, with the number of people who aren't taking social distancing seriously - the folks who stand too close behind you at the check outs or brush by you in the aisles. Really people! I'm basically treating everyone as though they might have the plague right now, and I'd prefer that you treat me like I'm a walking batch of contagion too!

We're all feeling the distance right now, but our loneliness has a purpose. We are being given an opportunity to help each other in the most important way possible - to potentially save lives by avoiding close interaction. It's a dose of loneliness and boredom for a noble cause, and simply not being able to be physically close to others is no reason to wallow in our misery. Connect with your people! Take up thy phone and TALK!

I go on a lot of rants about people being too chained to their electronic devices, but now is the time to use our technology to meaningfully connect. I am so grateful to live in an era that has provided me with ways to instantly message friends and relatives from afar; to see their faces and hear their voices. It is wonderful to be able to exchange voice messages with "my" boys in Brazil and have them thank me for giving them an opportunity to practice their English, or to share a joke and see that LOL pop up - or it's Brazilian equivalent - KKKKK.

Multiply your efforts to be kind, to express gratitude and show compassion. Say please, thank you, I'm sorry, and be especially liberal with the words, "I love you".

Let your words be the hugs you cannot give. Life will improve exponentially if we all stop looking at our sacrifices as a zero sum game. None of us are alone in our isolation.

Me = Us. All of us are alone together. Stay safe and be kind : )

The Cure for Cabin Fever - By Sharon Flood Kasenberg

Cabin Fever!

I caught a common ailment
when forced to stay inside;
the snow came down profusely
and patience sorely tried.
The roads weren't safe to drive on;
high winds picked up the stuff,
and blew it willynilly
until I screamed, "Enough!
I'm getting tired of winter -
it's hard to navigate.
Another storm is coming -
I think I'll hibernate!
A day inside sounds lovely,
there isn't much to do...
I'll read and watch the telly - "
One day turns into two.
By day three I am fed up.
My books have all been read.
My screen time is excessive;
more days inside I dread!
I've now got cabin fever
and fear I'll go insane
if I don't take a shower
and indoors I remain.
I do not feel quite human -
my hygiene has decayed -
with others of my species
no contact have I made.
It's time to put my coat on
and into white world go -
to bundle up my body
and shovel out some snow.
The exercise will help me
clear cobwebs from my head.
I'm tired of doing nothing -
so I'll get tired instead!
These ailments caused by winter
are filled with irony -
we say we've got snow blindness
when snow is all we see.
And as for "cabin fever",
it's caused by what's outside.
When winter storms get ugly
we're caged where we reside.
When cage gets claustrophobic,
"hair of the dog" will cure -
We'll only feel improvement
when more snow we endure!
So put on boots and jacket
and go where you must go -
and cure your cabin fever
by going out in...snow.

By Sharon Flood Kasenberg, Feb. 28th, 2020

The winds wail, and the trees blow as I sit and type. It's the third day of snow squalls in my little corner of the world, and I'm suffering from a full blown case of "Cabin Fever". Yesterday, few people ventured out - not even the snow plows - and a whole lot of us probably sat around in our bathrobes until noon. It was an easily justified decision - after all, none of our friends or neighbours were likely to just pop by, since they were all in hibernation mode too.

Yeah - some of the more industrious folk among us probably used the previous two snow days to clean house or get caught up on work they could do from home - but I doubt that I'm alone in spending too much time on my couch reading books and over-indulging in Netflix. You can start out a snowstorm with good intentions, but after a chore or two, it's pretty easy to ask yourself why you're bothering. Motivation wanes for a whole lot of us in the winter, and often completely disappears when you hear the words "snow day".

We Canadians are contrary creatures when it comes to winter. A whole lot of us complain endlessly about having to go out in the cold, but complain just as hard when we're told we should stay in. It's amazing how many things you suddenly feel that you need to do when you can't. Many will thoroughly relish a single day inside, but most will get restless on day two.

I can't speak for the masses, but I know that I have a harder time sleeping when I haven't been out of my house all day. So, by snow day number three I'm tired, cranky and looking a little unkempt. Yesterday I wrote myself a longish "to do" list, and woke up after another sketchy night's sleep feeling impatient to get on with it.

High on that list I've scrawled, "Go outside!" I shower so that I'll feel better if doing so puts me in anybody's path - but also because I'm tired of looking like someone who's been spending too much time wasting time.

I toss my final load of laundry in the dryer and head out to shovel the snow drifts that blocked my back door and left "get stuckable" drifts in the driveway that did manage to get plowed last night. My husband has just messaged me that he's on his way home from Mississauga, and after a white knuckle ride he'll appreciate having one less worry.

The snowy air feels crisp and clean, and I wonder why I didn't venture out sooner. My neighbour pulls into his driveway as I'm finishing up and offers to help me shovel. I tell him I'm just about finished touching up the drifted areas, and we chat for a few minutes before I head out for a short walk. On my way home, I stop by the Post Office, to find that it closed early because of the weather. I trudge home through the snow - still tired, but a bit less cranky.

I get home and finish the poem I started earlier. The ending is quite clear now that I've figured out how to survive "Cabin Fever". It suddenly seems obvious that after a few days of chilling inside my house I'm feeling better because I finally chilled out!

Winter in Ontario can feel endless, but it won't go away any faster if we hide ourselves away inside. It's worth the effort to bundle up and take a walk in the chilly air. Life is too short to stay inside, and hibernating is for bears.

Friends - the Family We Choose By Sharon Flood Kasenberg

The Family We Choose

When it comes to family
you might win; you might lose -
with our friends it's clear to see
that love's something we choose.
Your family must love you
(they haven't got much choice!),
but knowing that friends choose to
is reason to rejoice!
In spite of your glaring flaws
they chose you from the crowd -
a fact that ought to give pause -
then make you cheer out loud!
They aren't compelled to love you,
to listen or to care,
and knowing that they want to
should make us more aware
that even on our worst days
they see in us our best;
and multiply in all ways
how much our lives are blessed.

By Sharon Flood Kasenberg, January 27th, 2020

As a nomadic soul who has lived in six towns over the past three decades, I can't even begin to explain how much those few friends who have maintained contact through my many moves mean to me.

Those of you who have lived in one area your entire lives have no idea how hard it is to establish new social circles as an adult. I envy the lifelong friendships you have - the annual "gal pal" weekends and the shopping trips you take together. I haven't experienced that kind of friendship since I married three decades ago.

When you are the one who moves on, you learn how easy it is for your place to be filled. The friends you leave behind have other friends, and those friendships usually predate the bonds they established with you. While some of these people are quite sad to see you leave, you know they won't be lonely - their other friendships will soon fill the gap you leave behind. It is a thought that is both comforting and depressing - we don't want our friends to be too sad about our departure, but we secretly fear that we'll be forgotten altogether. Only rarely is the connection strong enough that the remaining parties will really make an effort to maintain more than superficial contact - and while I can't speak for everyone who has changed cities more than once or twice, those are the friendships that matter most to me.

In October, we hosted a group of friends that we used to regularly socialize with more than twenty years ago. The circumstances that brought us all together had changed, and we were all different people than we had been two decades ago, but we still valued the bonds we had forged. We vowed we would all get together again soon, and not wait for another two or three years to pass before we had another reunion.

This past weekend, we got together with one of these couples. Knowing that they'd be babysitting grandchildren in the GTA over my birthday weekend, they invited us to join them at their son's apartment so we could celebrate together. It was a casual affair - we ate our dinner together after the kiddos had been fed, and they watched cartoons while we ate and talked. They bought me a birthday present - a colour changing mug that says "Friends are the family you choose." It's a sentiment that I wholeheartedly endorse.

I like the fact that this mug starts out plain and brown, and is illustrated with a kitten and a puppy. It demonstrates just how unlikely some of our friendship pairings might be - and how when we're in hot water, and the tea of life can be a bit hard to sip - the beauty of friendship often shows itself in its most vivid hues.

I grew up in a big, boisterous family with five siblings - all very different from each other. We love each other because we share common history, common parents, relatives and genes. Other than those things, most of us don't have much in common. We live in far flung cities, enjoy varied pastimes, ascribe to our own belief systems and vote different ways. I've sometimes wondered if any of them would actually become friends with me if we met as strangers.

We love each other because we need to, and we have to - because we are family. It isn't a mark of particular pride to me that these people make room in their hearts for me, and I for them - it's what society expects from a group who all sprang from the same genetic stock and grew up in a common household - sharing bedrooms, bathrooms, squabbles over possessions, and perceived parental slights. Who but a sibling can understand your gripe about a parent without making you feel completely disloyal? They don't always understand us or like us, but they care. We can rest assured that they'll show up if we really need them, and they'll fill seats at our funeral if they outlive us.

Those friendships that last over decades and across miles are different. We bond with these people because we choose to - and because they choose to reciprocate.We don't agree on every single aspect of our lives, but somehow it's okay. Faults that might seem intolerable in a spouse or family member are more easily overlooked in someone who interacts with us because they want to. Differences in opinion are more easily set aside when we receive, and reciprocate, hospitality. It is harder to take someone for granted, or to be unforgiving, when we know they have made a conscious decision to like us, even though we might occasionally give them reason not to.

These are the people who hear your secrets and keep them. They don't judge you when you toss around loose words in frustration and anger. They stick by you when you are such a misery to be around that your husband, kids and siblings enjoy you about as much as a small piece of Lego wedged in their shoe.

They give you praise that is genuine, compliments that you never even considered as applicable to you, and pep talks that don't sound condescending. They tell you off when they need to, but never in a way designed to deliberately hurt you. They will be brutally honest at times, but never unfair.

Your conversations might be less frequent than you'd like, but they tend to come when you need them most, and you cherish them like rare and precious jewels. When you actually get to see each other face to face, no matter how long it's been, you pick up old conversations as though you chatted with them yesterday.  Although the circumstances in your separate lives may have radically changed, you always seem to rediscover what brought you together as friends, and can still enjoy each other's companionship.

In an age where technology gives us unlimited access to hordes of people who don't matter much to us, we have increased opportunities to spend time with people who don't play an everyday role in our lives - even though we wish they could. The messages my faraway friends send me buoy my spirit when I feel lonely, and motivate me to reach out to those who are in closer proximity - those people who might become dear friends...someday.

That's the crux of the difficulty for introverted nomads like me - the fact that friendships take time to establish. While I am in my limbo state - surrounded by pleasant acquaintances who have not yet won my trust and become cherished friends - I can't help but be grateful for the people who have loved me across the spans of time and distance. For some mysterious reason, we continue to make the same choice - to care when we aren't obligated to, and to love and appreciate each other simply because we can - and that is a beautiful thing.

Looking Ahead to a Year of "Perfect Vision" By Sharon Flood Kasenberg

20/20 Vision

It's easy to glance backward
when we should look ahead -
not focus on the future,
rewind the past instead!
But nothing is accomplished
when we relive misdeeds,
and endless rumination
is not what this muse needs!
Thus as new year's beginning
I'll inventory soul -
take stock of dreams and wishes
and try to gain control.
I'll list goals I can work on -
forgive those I cannot -
and tally up my fortunes;
give thanks for all I've got.
I'll count up those I love most,
and those who count on me,
and offer them affection
with generosity.
I'll carefully examine
the things I can improve;
minimizung obstacles
that I cannot remove.
In year of 20/20
I hope my sight is clear
to see opportunities
wherever they appear.
I hope in vivid detail
my eyes will always see
the beauty found in nature,
and in humanity.
May I see self more kindly,
and view others with grace;
help maximize potential
and inner qualms erase.
May I direct my focus
with utmost clarity
to just and noble causes
that fight disparity.
With thoughts more forward focused,
and sight lines broad and clear,
my aim is to contribute
to a "perfect vision" year.

Sharon Flood Kasenberg, January 2nd, 2020

Last year was a hard year for me - a difficult end to a decade that was full of change and often difficult transitions.

Ten years ago I lived a very different life, in another place and another house. I had two sons living at home, and strict dogmas that I adhered to. I lived my life with an almost obnoxious level of certainty that I was doing most things as they ought to be done.

Eight years ago I began a journey that brought me to another state of mind entirely. I began to rethink a lot of the ways I had always lived my life, putting the focus on what I really believed in my heart as opposed to what I felt I *should* believe. I moved out of my comfort zone and spent the better part of a year living in Toronto with my son, only living in my home in Kitchener on weekends. It was an eye opening year that initiated a lot more changes in my life.

Five years ago my younger son got engaged - then married six months later. Nothing bound us to Kitchener any longer; our younger son had received his undergraduate degree, and he and his wife moved to Boston to pursue further education. Our older son was between jobs and open to the idea of a change in locale. My husband was self-employed, and said he could work from home wherever we chose to live, so we decided it was time to leave the city behind and embark on a new adventure in a more pastoral setting.

Four years ago the hunt for a unique property began, and eight months later we moved to our new/old home. New beginnings are exciting, but difficult. Every time I move I feel optimistic - surely "this time" I will find my "happy place" - friendships; purpose; community. Establishing myself is always harder than I think it will be.

Life is often difficult for nomadic introverts like me. I struggle to get to know people. I hate making small talk. I don't like going through the process of "finding friends" - the feeling that I am weighing the merits of others, and being weighed in return. I hate the standard "friend interview" questions - "What do you do?" (Really? You don't work??? Incredulous stare..)

"So, where did you go to university?...Oh - you didn't finish?" (Disappointed head shake..) At that point my telepathy kicks in, and it seems clear to me that I'm viewed as someone who is boring and has little to offer. (I've paid a heavy price for a few of my earlier life choices.) My inner critic is always quick to chime in, and hard to shut up, which makes the friend-making thing that much harder still. 

My focus on finding friends stalled in the fall of 2017 when I discovered the joys of being a host mom to a Brazilian student attending the local high school. Since then we've hosted three more boys - two from Brazil, and one from Italy. I found a few friends who also hosted students, and became best buds with a succession of seventeen year old boys.

While my husband was busy working, and getting involved with municipal politics, I manned the home front - kept the boys fed, and baked copious batches of well appreciated home-made cookies. I had interesting, fun, and sometimes challenging conversations with our adopted "sons." They told me I was "a good English teacher." They made me feel useful and appreciated. They kept me sane!

While they stayed with us they were our kids. We watched television together. We argued at the table. We explored the local haunts, went on shopping trips, celebrated holidays and birthdays, took road trips - lots of upsides to the experience - but one really big downside. You love them to bits - but then they go home. We hold out hope that our Italian son will visit someday, but when kids go back to Brazil you know that unless your finances allow for frequent trips to South America, or sending plane tickets so they can visit you, your chances of seeing them much in the future - if ever - aren't great.

For the past six months I've felt lonely and rudderless without my international sons. Very few exchange students came to the local school in the fall, so we had no opportunity to host. It was another disappointment in a year full of hard revelations. I had health issues arise that reminded me that I'm not invincible and grappled with the concept of mortality as I've watched friends and family lose loved ones. I've seen aging friends and family suffer injuries and declining health.

I've struggled with my role as "the mayor's wife." (How can I keep a low profile and avoid recognition while still being seen as sufficiently supportive? How can I censure my opinions on those occasions when I'm asked for them? How do I deal with people who want to see my aging self as nothing more than an escort on an arm?)

Last year I often felt lonely, emotionally flat, unmotivated and discouraged. This year I want things to be different. I have a clear vision of what I plan to do differently to facilitate positive change.

I'm working on getting my driver's license. This is a big deal for me. Life with a narcoleptic father (who often scared my impressionable childhood self by falling asleep behind the wheel!) made me fear learning to drive, but I'm working hard to conquer that fear. I've learned that people can sometimes treat you like a lesser being when you don't have a driver's license - and I'm sick of being viewed as "lacking independence" because I can't drive myself places. When I lived in the city I didn't feel the need to drive - I could walk most places I frequently went, and if I wanted, or needed, to venture further afield there was a bus stop at the corner. When you live in a very small town and have a husband who often needs to travel you can go a little stir crazy. This is the year I take the wheel!

Driving will open up some new opportunities for me, and allow me to explore the world outside my door. As for inner exploration, I have plans to do plenty of that as well.

One of my former students helped me set up my new iPad and figure out how to use the camera and edit photos. I've discovered that I love taking pictures! For Christmas I was given a gift certificate to take a few photography lessons, and I'm really looking forward to learning some skills from a professional photographer. I've learned that life often looks better through the eye of a lens.

Another of my former students exposed me to new forms of music - jazz, Bossa Nova, classical guitar. My tastes had grown predictable, and a little musical exploration was past due. Most days now I make a conscious effort to listen to something different.

I'm going to renew my commitment to writing - more poems, more blog posts, and perhaps a few new projects in the offing. It's easy to get discouraged when you put effort into writing blog posts that few read, thanks to Google/Facebook analytics, but I shall forge ahead. I will keep reminding myself that the size of my audience doesn't matter as much as my dedication to getting words and ideas in print. My brain needs more exercise.

Speaking of exercise - I'm determined to take more walks, use my treadmill, and utilize the gym membership I purchased last fall. I don't like going to the gym alone, but I'm going to try to be diligent. I know I feel better when I move - but that doesn't always make it easier. It's time to prioritize health and fitness.

There are things I need to do less often too - like listening to my inner critic! This year year I'm buying her a muzzle! I'm going to ask for less advice, and listen harder to my own instincts. I'm going to try to worry less about things I have no control over. I'm going to waste less time on trivialities and spend more time learning things - reading books, indulging my curiosity and coming up with creative solutions to the tired old conundrums that have plagued me far too long. I might even find a few new friends that way.

For too long, I have sat on the sidelines, watching life unfold around me without much participation. Some way, somehow I have to change that.

It's time to stop musing and start doing. It's time to contribute more than words to the world around me.

It's time to put a difficult year behind me and follow my vision into action. Wish me luck : )