Thursday, March 9, 2017


I spent a good portion of Christmas Day in the kitchen preparing our dinner that in years’ past I would have prepped way more than I actually did. The rosemary would have been chopped, the garlic pre-minced, the vinaigrette whisked together, the oven temps and baking times written on Post-It Notes instead of 4 cookbooks piled over each other, serving dishes pulled from cabinets and labeled for what and more. I would have done it all ahead of time and then shooed everyone out of the kitchen while I assembled the meal. Its really not a bad way to make a big meal come together quickly other than the shooing. That is meant for dogs who lay underfoot and hungry people who only want to eat and not help. 
This time around, though, Audrey joined me in the meal-making. I taught her to proof yeast and the feel of a good bread dough as it nears the end of kneading. We marveled at how utterly easy this method is for seeding a pomegranate. And while we worked, besides trying to appreciate each other’s taste in music, we talked. It has been a year of transition and new roads for each of us. My daughter wants my listening ear more and not so much my mothering tongue. (Pages. I feel I could write pages about just how hard this is for me.) We cleared dessert dishes and she questioned me for an answer to follow up on something. I sort of told her the answer. She plied me for more. I wanted to resist.
But I ventured out and shared. 

Share. It was a word that had started hanging around in my brain earlier that week and my conversation with Audrey solidified that it needed to be my word of 2017. 
I’ve thought about it a little bit. Looked up its meaning. Let it start scratching at the surface of my heart. 
I've discovered that sharing goes hand in hand with being vulnerable. So many say they want this from a friend but I for one will tell you that I am not actually that willing to let people see the deep crevice that sharing exposes.
I can already see the rub. I am willing to hear my friends’ wounds and joys but I am not willing to reciprocate by sharing mine. There is risk involved with sharing. There are boundaries in sharing. There is sacrifice in sharing. And a deepness. 
I'm discovering all these this year as I open myself to share. 


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