Mom Talk

A sisterhood formed from the most unlikely of places.
A supportive group of women made up of many different faces.
We found each other in cyber space
Facebook is where most of our communication takes place.
Most of us have never met one another
But one thing ties us together. Each of us is a mother.
We joke, we cry, we pray together.
Our group has formed a bond that will last forever.
We chat, we laugh, we bake. That’s our motto.
When we do get together, I guarantee a few bottles of moscato.
We talk a lot about our babies.
This amazing group of sophisticated ladies.
We started out as strangers and ended up as friends.
One thing I know for sure is……
Mom Talk is a Godsend!
mom talk

True Beauty

True beauty.
It is in front of us if we would only take a moment to recognize it.
Too often I completely overlook what is close enough for me to touch.
I move too quickly though this world. I treat life as a race.
I need to slow down.
It’s time to bask in the sunlight that shines down through the breaking clouds. Feeling the warmth on my face as I soak in the beauty that consumes me.
Its time to touch the rainbow that appears out in the distance. Ponder the majestic colors that show themselves only under the right conditions.
It’s time to watch the leaves dance as the wind breathes life ever so softly around them. Swaying my body with them as I become one with nature,
It’s time to breathe in the fragrance of the flowers, Inhaling the energy that they produce.
It’s time.
It’s my time.
It’s my time to bloom.
I am shedding my old ways.
I am rewriting my future.


Photo Credit: Jim Chapman


Heavens Door

Wait! I’m not ready. I’m not ready for you to go. Its not your time. It cant be. You have too much left to do. You have too much left to say. There are too many words left unspoken. There are still things I want to learn from you. Things I want you to teach me. I’m sure that there is advice I don’t even know that I need from you yet. I can feel your aura shining bright. I feel an incredible sense of overwhelming warmth. Its love. I feel so much love.

Did you have to make a decision? Did you have to decide whether to go forward into a light so bright that you couldn’t see what was beyond it? Did you have the option to turn back?  Where you scared? Was there fear?

I see something standing in the doorway. Someone is holding the door open. At first it just looks like a ball of light. As I look closer and begin to focus on it, a being starts to form. Its him! Its my dad! I see my dad!  I am overjoyed. How can this be?

Its been 14 years. He doesn’t look like he has aged a bit. He looks so much better than when he did when I saw his lifeless body after that destructive night. It has been 14 years since mother nature took her wrath out on him. He wasn’t sick. There is no reason that he shouldn’t still be here. But he isn’t. He isn’t here. At least not physically. There were so many things left undone. So many things left unsaid. But it was too late. He was gone. I carry the burden.

I wasn’t ready. Hell, I’m still not ready. I think some part of his soul knew. I’m pretty sure that he had, in a way, even tried to prepare me. I didn’t understand the depth of the conversation we had that day until he was gone.

In March of 2003, my grandfather, my dads dad, was dying. I called him Zadie. I was his oldest grandchild. We had a very special relationship. He always referred to me as “his number one”. We had a close relationship, so it was no surprise that I was having a hard time accepting his fate. My father found me in the family room crying. What took place next is permanently etched in my mind like my dads name carved in his grave stone.

“Court…..whats wrong?” I could hear the concern in his voice.

“What’s wrong? Are you serious? I cant even believe you are asking me that question. I hate seeing him like this.” I was so angry. I was pissed. I couldn’t stand seeing Zadie in pain, yet I wasn’t ready for my him to go. I wasn’t ready to never see him or talk to him again. I was being selfish.

My dad sat down next to me and tried to comfort me. He put his arm around me. In a way I felt like I was 5 years old again. Like I had skinned my knee and my dad was telling me that I would be ok. As much as I didn’t want to admit it, it was calming and reassuring. I was still daddy’s little girl. I wept. We sat in silence. Then he said something that I have carried with me, strapped around my heart, ever since.

“Court, I want to share something with you. As you get older, you come to realize whats really important in life. You will come to realize that whats really important is the legacy that you will leave behind. I am not afraid of death. If by chance I was to die tomorrow, I would be ok with that. I would be ok with it because I know the legacy that I would leave behind. That legacy is you, your sister and your brothers.” He had tears in his milk chocolate brown eyes.

I know that I had conversations with my dad after that. But that conversation. Those words are the last ones I remember him saying to me.

My Zadie died that night with all of his family surrounding him. The room was full of love.

In the Jewish religion you mourn for thirty days. Thirty one days after my Zadie died, on April 10th it happened again. Zadie’s wife, my grandmother, my Nanny took her last breath. She gave him the last gift she could. She honored him by mourning for 30 days. I’m convinced she died of a broken heart. She couldn’t fathom living without him.

Then May 6th, 2003 and all its misery happened. Twenty six days after my Nanny died, sixty days after my Zadie, now my dad was gone too. The loss was overwhelming. It was too much for me to handle. In a matter of 60 days I lost two generations of my family. My Zadie, my Nanny and my dad were all gone. I was overcome with grief. They were gone, but I was lost. I couldn’t think. I couldn’t function.

It has taken me 14 years to get to the place I am in now. Fourteen years of loss. Fourteen years of grief. Fourteen years of heartache. Fourteen years of wondering about the conversations we never had. Fourteen years of pondering what my dad would say to me when I asked for his advice. Fourteen years of one sided conversations with him that I’m not really sure he ever heard. But his legacy, it lives on. Not only through myself and my siblings, but through the countless number of students that he taught over the span of almost 30 years.

What is that ringing? Its getting louder. Its getting clearer. My dad is starting to fade away. Wait! I’m not ready to let him go. I cant let him go again.

“I love you dad” I yell before disappears completely.

I try to resist, but I slowly open my eyes. I’m home in my bed. My alarm is going off. When I finally wake up the sun is shining in through the curtains. That bright light and warmth is still surrounding me. I feel a sense of peace. A calmness like watching a baby sleep.

I am grateful. Grateful for the 28 years that I had with him on this earth. Grateful for the things that he taught me. Grateful for the morals he instilled in me. Grateful that he was my dad. I’m also grateful for the moments I had with him in that dream. Grateful for the opportunity to show him that his legacy lives on. An opportunity to tell him one more time that I love him.

Photo credit: Eve Hannah

standing in door

The Storm

The water looks calm, but a storm is brewing. The light fades as the clouds consume the sky. I find solace in the darkness. I welcome the change. It’s comforting to know, that at this moment, I am brighter than the sky. There is a calm before the storm. There is a stillness as the energy grows. Wind begins to blow and waves begin to crash. A climax ensues and energy erupts. Some find it scary. I find it exhilarating. I am free to dance in the rain. To feel the raindrops bounce off my skin. To gasp as the wind hits my face. Its literally takes my breath. The storm wont last long. It never does. The true beauty shines through after the storm has passed. Its the resilience of having survived. Coming out on the other end stronger. I’m learning to enjoy the storm. This is my life.


Photo credit: Julie Moore

selfie person water


Fast Forward

You were here. And then you weren’t.

Gone in the blink of an eye, you left a massive void.

Time kept going.

Lots of movement all around me, but part of me hit pause.

If I press play I move forward and you are not there.

You’re character was written off. You have disappeared.

The rewind button is broken. I can’t go back.

Fast forward 14 years.

You’re still gone and I’m still here.

I replay your memory every day.

You live on through me.

me and dad

Destination Unknown

train station

There is lots of movement around me but I feel like time is standing still. I know where I came from, but I’m not sure where it is I’m going? Where is it I am I trying to get to? Where am I trying to go?

Standing in the middle of Union Station the possibilities are plentiful. There are too many options. I can’t make a decision. What if I pick the wrong destination? What If I make the wrong choice? What if I fail?

I am already failing. I’m failing myself by being indecisive. I’m failing my family by not making a decision.  Just choose! Since I really have nothing to lose, is it what I might gain that I’m afraid of?

Epiphany. I just had an epiphany.

I have never really had to make a decision about my path. Now that I think about it, for the first 42 years of my life things just kind of happened. I was following the directions. There was a map. I started at the beginning and I ended at my destination. It was easy. I mean, I worked hard to get there, but it was easy.

But now, now I’m in uncharted territory. I’m on a new found island. An island that has just recently been discovered. There are no directions. There is no map. I am starting at the beginning, but I have to decide the destination. I have to create the directions.

Do I remain still or do I make another decision…..the decision to explore. It’s the only decision I have to make.  What do I do?

I really have no choice. I have to explore. I must decide which direction to go. A decision that will chart my path. A decision that will create the map that continues my journey. A map that’s currently on a blank piece of paper.

This is anything but easy. This is the most difficult decision of my life thus far.

Epiphany. I’m on a roll. Two in one day.

For the first time I am in charge of my destiny. Maybe that’s what terrifies me. I’ll have no one to blame but myself if it turns out bad. I guess its time to grow up. I guess it’s time to take control.

If you don’t know where you are going you will never get there. It’s a very common phrase. So how is it exactly that you figure out where you want to go? I have to choose my destination.


Photo credit: Julie Moore


The Lucky One

That’s an Irish lullaby.

My mom used to sing that song to me when I was little. Those words….that song…when I hear it, it’s as if I’ve been transported back to 1978 when I was three years old. Memories of my childhood flood my mind. So many that I’m drowning in them. Memories of times far less complicated. Memories of what I thought was a simple life.
Those memories give me comfort. They are my safe place. That song takes me back to sitting on mommy’s lap while she sang to me and stroked my hair. Rocking back and forth, back and forth, I could feel her long, red hair brushing up against my face. She would smile while she sang. I would gaze into her radiant sky blue eyes until I drifted off into my “land of make believe”.

That’s an Irish lullaby.

Forty years later I sing that same song to my son. We are creating memories. It gives him comfort. It provides him a safe place. I cradle him as he snuggles in my lap rocking back and forth, back and forth. I sing to him while I stroke his hair. I smile while I sing to him. He gazes into my beaming blue eyes until he drifts off to his “Neverland”.

He fades away without a care in the world. I am captivated by his presence. I yearn for his innocence. I watch him sleep. My breath coinciding with his. Our hearts beat in sync. We are connected on a different level. He is part of me. He provides me comfort. He is my safe space.

I gently kiss his forehead. I thank him for the joy he brings me. I thank him for the memories we are creating. I thank him for letting me be his mommy.

I am the lucky one.


Photo Credit: Eve Hannah