A Blog about a Boutonniere

I felt the need to write last night. My mind was non-stop. I knew what was on my mind, but not sure how to get it all out.

Last night was the 8th Grade Dance. The "Last Dance".

For months, Patrick was going solo until the day before. Kelsey and I were thrilled by who decided to ask a beautiful and smart young lady, but as a busy mom, last minute running around is not fun. But this time it was. Shoes, a tie, a hair cut and bonding. Late Monday night it dawned on me about FLOWERS!! Crap. Amy to the rescue! The first thought was a Succulent for Patrick. Not sure why, but it was the first thought and it was perfect. Keeping reading on how it all comes together.

My stomach was torn up with emotions that as always, I held back. This is hitting me pretty hard. High School. College. Life. My baby. The man of my house. 

Anyway, the night went like this....

5:30 pm pictures at my house with Patrick, Kelsey, Woody and I. The Perfectly Imperfect Divorced Parents. The tide was up and the train was flying by. The ducks, the birds, the perfect breeze and two sets of the most beautiful blue eyes a brown eyed mother would only have look at her in her dreams. Smiling, making jokes and of course hitting one another on a creaky, old, white-washed gazebo that is just perfect at high tide and mucky and buggy at low tide with the train still cruising by no matter what. I love the train and I love mud. No mud. No lotus. You first have to sit in the mud. In life's terms, the work and suffering that we put in are what yield in return, the reward. (I don't mean a bigger house or money. For me anyway.)

You see, when I first moved to Brielle someone asked me, "Where do you live"? I was confused because our kids both went to Brielle and you have to be a resident. I answered. Her response."Oh, "over there". Slightly taken back by response I asked what exactly does that mean? Response "On the "Other Side of the Tracks". Tracks? What Tracks? The Rail Road Tracks? You see I love the train. My grandmother lived in the Bronx. No air, windows always open, the sounds of horns honking and the train chugging, hissing, screeching and whistling. Music to my ears!! A small home, by the tracks, low tide or hide, it doesn't matter. Less is more. Noise can be calming. Silence and sterile can be sad and lonely.

Still torn about the reasoning for this blog I was starring at the Instagram post I posted on my personal page. swiping and swiping. Looking and thinking about the afternoon, the "photo party in the hills", the breathtaking view, the beautiful young teens, the parents, and my son and his friends. Then I figured it all out. It all came together.

The first photo is Patrick and I on the gazebo with the tracks and the "creek" in the background, the second was Patrick and his date on the River up in "the hills", the third photo is Patrick and his two friends, then Lilly and Patrick, Kesley and Patrick and Patrick solo.

You see the three boys in the photo are all sons of hardworking, very strong, single moms that continue to work their asses off for their children and continue to thrive everyday.

 Next pic....LILLY!!!! Patrick and Lilly have been best friends for years. They are one! Most Athletic and friends until the end. I admire and look up to this young lady so much than I can say or write in any blog or any book. Before I continue I want to say that from the teens I did see, everyone looked beautiful and handsome, but Lilly stole the show!!! Classic white button down, pink khaki pants, a low, wind blown pony, clear, bright, natural ,glowing, freckled skin and a smile that projected her confidence across the river. Come to find out Patrick and Lilly spoke the evening before about the dance. She did not want to go. I am not sure of the entire conversation, but what I do know is, real friends stick together. Through the mud and the rough waters. Friends help each other up when they are feeling down. Friends are confidence boosters and a support system. Lilly, continue to be you. Less is more. Walk with your head high ALWAYS.

Still confused about this blog? So am I. Here's the deal.....

SUCCULENTS.

They are difficult to kill and require little maintenance.

 

They are grown as ornamental plants because of their striking and unusual appearance.

They survive in HARSH climates.

They're reflections and reminders of our existence and consciousness. The colorful leaves brighten up any room. They are living Mandalas. (means circle in Sanskrit)

The circle center of our power is the third chakra. Solar Plexus. It is the center of will power, personal power, confidence, responsibility, reliability, self-esteem and warmth in your personality.

Succulents and Mandalas. Both like art, just like every photo that I described. We overcome situations that gives us a clear opportunity for doing things in ways we have always known we should do. We learn how to make it work by making it work. Just like three single moms, a teen putting it all together within one day  and a natural beauty inside and out, showing up. HER WAY.

Lastly....

No mud. No Lotus.

"Most people are afraid of suffering. But suffering is a kind of mud to help the lotus flower of happiness grow".

Be Happy

Be Healthy

Be Strong,

 

The happy, single mom, living on the tracks in the mud. 

Proudly.

 

Be a Succulent