Christmas Future

Ninth in a series.......

A Series of Short Stories

By: Jacqueline E. Hughes

How calm and peaceful it is as I sit here in my daughter's den in Michigan.  From my vantage point, snuggled warmly in an oversized crimson colored chair, I feel a bit like Santa himself looking out the mullioned front window to the sparkling snow-covered lawn and contemplating the enormous task ahead......

It's early Christmas Eve morning.  The sun has recently begun to make its presence known as it faithfully attempts to break through a deep cloud cover.....giving promise to enjoying a white Christmas Day tomorrow.  Two precious children calmly lie asleep above me while three others will make their way here to join us later this morning.  Right now I'm taking advantage of the early hour and peace and quiet that comes with it in order to write.

Everyone has finally arrived!  The evening takes me back to Christmas Eve Past when my own daughters excitedly played with their cousins anxiously awaiting the arrival of the 'Big Jolly Man' himself.  There were so many presents to open and so much Love spread among Grandparents, Parents and many Grandchildren.  So long ago now......

Tonight I am one of the Grandparents!  Yet, I can still recall being a Grandchild without a care in the world.  Time is truly such a fleeting thing.  Squeeze your eyes shut as tight as you can and when you open them again, the little ones have become the children of your children's.  The slinky that you opened as a favorite toy has drifted away and has been replaced by a new I-Pad opened by your oldest Grandchild.  

Christmas Eve dinner has been thoroughly enjoyed and opened presents are scattered across the floor in possessive patterns while clean-up crews of adults work their magic in every room that's been touched by the evening's festivities.  Our youngest daughter begins gathering three pajama-clad munchkins, bags of gifts, leftovers and diaper bags while our son-in-law begins to carry all-of-the-above out to the pre-warmed SUV in the driveway.  Tomorrow morning they will be off to visit the other set of Grandparents at their house where more food, treats and presents will be eaten, devoured and opened.....much to everyone's delight.  I will miss them tomorrow, sweet Lydia and the twins.

This morning, Christmas morning, has been blessed with feather-like snowflakes dancing around outside like tiny ballerinas drifting down from the clouds.  I have made my way downstairs a bit early so I can prepare and place the breakfast quiche into the hot oven to bake.  I am hoping the delicate aroma will entice everyone downstairs soon....as if the prospect of Santa's goodies aren't enticement enough. 

Gavin loves trains and Brenna dislikes having to open fancy wrapped boxes filled with socks.  It seems socks have become the modern day 'lump of coal' for girls her age.  Truthfully, they were for me, as well.  Papa holds open the giant plastic bag where rainbow colored fragments of wrapping paper and yards of curled ribbon come to rest after their short-lived stint of protecting the recipients of holiday gifts from the knowledge of what was inside each box for them...... until just the right time.  

Uniform wedges of golden brown quiche and sweet pineapple bake with fresh juice on the side have become a part of history already.  Delicious!  Snowflakes have stopped their early morning dance.  Although, still quite beautiful by itself, the decorated tree appears a bit naked devoid of the shiny gifts that initially gathered beneath it.  All is quiet, if not much more solemn now that the children have retreated to their rooms to take much needed naps.  I've decided to make time for a rejuvenating mug of hot Green Tea and, actually, find myself right back where this journey began yesterday.

Sitting here with my legs swung over one cushy arm of the very same crimson colored chair, spirals of fruity steam curling upwards from my tea mug, I take a short break from the imaginary world within the latest book I am reading.  I rest the paperback edition on my lap and contemplate the long drive back down to Orlando on Saturday and can almost feel the warmth of the Floridian sun upon my skin already.  Yes, it is a comforting, healthy feeling.....

Even though my husband's job keeps us in Florida, for the time being, I know where my heart lies.  And, if the snow piles up to the window ledges or the north wind blows its bitter cold, frosty sting right into my face....those five little souls that continue to charm me with each breath they take will always draw me into their lives and enrich mine within a sea of contentment.  

I don't have an exact timeline in mind; many circumstances are beyond my control.  But, I do know the direction my path will take me, eventually.  For now, I sink back into my paperback novel, sip my comforting tea and wait........

Everything Matters

Eighth in a series.....

Hooker.....Traditional Wooden Sailing Boat

A series of short stories

By: Jacqueline E. Hughes



Everything Matters....the philosophy of one highly successful CEO, as well as Oprah Winfrey and many other "Super Charged" individuals who have made their way up the ranks of "the unknown" to become "outstanding in their field" and beyond!!

Simply because I know that Everything Matters, is precisely my dilemma as I sit here writing to you today! So many year-end ideas scattered throughout my brain pulling me this way and that.  Even the mere thought that yet another year will be a memory or last year's chapters will soon be cross-referenced by private journals, pictorial histories and, yes, published blogs, proves how unprepared I really am to enter yet another shift-in-time......a new year!

I am amazed when I realize that 2013 will soon slip into 2014 and I have yet to take advantage of everything that matters to me right here, right now.  I am comfortable within this 2013 persona I have created for myself and fear (being the operative word) what I expect from 'me' in 2014........and, my expectations run high. 

Fragments of sentences, individual letters, digital pictures, beautiful faces, emotions.....flying pigs?......All captured above my head within a fluffy cartoon cloud of conversation and personal thoughts.  Brilliant! 

But, but, but, I have yet to write about this, that and the other thing and this year's time is sifting seamlessly through the hour glass (okay, year glass) and, don't you know how Everything Matters so much to me?  I haven't described the sheer natural beauty of Lough Corrib with its polka-dot design of tiny islands that resemble Hershey's Kisses in the soft light of an Irish dusk.  Not a mention yet of the Spanish stone arches, traditional wooden sailing boats called Hookers, Village of Claddagh (yes, associated with the famous ring) or the fascinating people we met who call the once walled-city of Galway their home today.  Have I described for you the significance of discovering a ruined structure, an abandoned Church of Ireland, during our visit to Cong?  Oh, now that's a story!  I cannot forget the tears running down our faces as the gentle breezes off Lough Mask felt like Spirits caressing our bodies while begging us to listen to their sorrowful stories....  Wow!  Seriously, chills just ran down my back remembering this experience!!

Even though the myriad of presents are getting wrapped, cookies are being baked and decorated with Love, clothes washed and folded to fit neatly into suitcases and the trusty KIA is gassed-up and waiting patiently for this barrage of domestic and Holiday items to consume it.....life remains a bit fragmented and unsettling to me.  Why?  We go through the motions without fully understanding why or what the outcome might be.

Actually, sitting here writing all of this down is proving to be a cathartic release, much like crying my way through the end of this year; I am grateful for this because the emotions are running higher than the International Space Station orbiting above us!  Thinking about it now, I come up with three contributing factors to my emotionally charged state of being.  Number one, it is Christmastime; that time of year when being together with Family, decorating the tree, creating delicious food and the wholesome act of simply 'giving,' all play a huge part in our lives.  We're concerned whether there's enough time to fit everything we want to do within the space we've allotted to it in order to achieve our objectives.  Secondly, my goals, as I alluded to above, have become much more specific and real.  I expect a lot from myself in 2014!  Pressure....  Lastly, over and above my personal expectations, I know that Everything Matters.   More Pressure.

Ironically, I believe it is precisely because Everything Matters that I will get through these final days of this year and bump along into 2014.  The dreamer, perfectionist and mental creator.....the three people I live with on a daily basis.....plan on sticking around for quite some time.  I promise to pay attention to all the details that comprise my life including family, friends and the exquisite passion that has served as guide to my soul for all these years......writing! 

Well, now that I have come full-circle in just a matter of a few, short paragraphs, I think I will be okay.  If we take our fear and turn it into positive emotion that is always working for us, we can achieve it all.  The trip up to Michigan to be with Family for Christmas will become a blessed memory, cherished forever.  It will be next year, but those stories about Galway will be written.  My novel is definitely progressing. And, everything will be accomplished with Love, attention to detail and the knowledge that to have it all, you must remember that Everything (Everyone) Matters along the way....

Merry Christmas and Happy New Year to All.....!

An Island Christmas?

 Seventh in a series......

Christmas Lights and Celebration

A Series of Short Stories

By: Jacqueline E. Hughes


If a formal Bucket List existed for me, spending the Christmas Holidays in Ireland once in my lifetime would rank astronomically high on that list! Certainly one of the greatest challenges of my life has always been wishing to be someplace other than where I am at the moment.

It definitely isn't that being wherever I am makes me unhappy......it's just that I've been, more or less, a 'packed suitcase and ready-to-go' type of person forever! I remember packing for four when the girls were young and calculating how many trips we had taken within a twelve month period. Whether it was a warm, week-long stay on Sanibel Island, Florida, during the winter or a balcony enhanced room at The Iroquois Hotel on Mackinac Island in the summer, I made certain we were packed and ready-to-go and never allowed any dust to settle on anyone's suitcase.

Many of our trips consisted of weekend visits to be with our two sets of parents who lived in Three Rivers, Michigan, and was an hour and a half drive away from our front door. Of course, this was always a 'slippery slope' for us considering we were sharing their two granddaughters, as well as time, between the two sets of grandparents. But, we always seemed to manage and adjust, as everyone must, eventually! Even the Thanksgiving and Christmas Holidays were strategically planned-out with maximum give-and-take provided by all parties involved. We always envied most of our siblings for marrying "out-of-towners" and making Grandparental Time-Sharing a bit less hectic.

Our unintentional fondness towards "island hopping" began with a honeymoon in Aruba so many years ago. Aruba was a Dutch owned island at the time, yet to be discovered by tourists back when we landed on its sandy shores. Its surreal beauty and tendency to be wild and natural, for the most part, adhered us to the island lifestyle. We celebrated our sun-drenched freedom with long walks along the beach, dodging the surf. Once, a local, asked me if I would like to ride his saddled horse along the beach at sunset.....no strings attached! Really? What an unforgettable experience as the sun began to majestically slide into the Caribbean Sea and the horse and I pranced along in sweet rhythm. Then, my husband decided to play golf with another couple we had met who were newly-weds, as well. I can still recall the warning given to all of us at the clubhouse before navigating the sandy, totally devoid of grass, nine hole course: "Never enter the rough (scrub brush) to retrieve your ball because you might meet a rattle snake face-to-face. Play another ball!"

                                                          A Friendly Game of Petanque

We've been spirited away by the island gods for so long now that it fails to amaze me when we slide into our natural tendency to choose yet another island adventure. So many islands; so little time! (As an avid reader, I often use this phraseology with regard to books). Several years ago we had the French island of St. Martin on our radar and knew it would be a perfect scenario for us to be able to enjoy the French lifestyle and language closer to home. And, we did! Mere steps from our hotel door, we entered our small, French village for the week and watched the local men playing pétanque, the Provençal lawn bowling game, right in the town square. Tourists mingled with the locals as, together, we ate the fresh catch from the sea, shopped at the marketplace and observed the French children at play.

Several other islands I have 'scoped-out' for future observation include the British Isle of Guernsey located in the English Channel just off the northern coast of France, Majorca, an island located in the Mediterranean Sea and near the coast of Spain, as well as Les Îles-de-la-Madeleine in the Gulf of Saint Lawrence and the Canadian Province of Quebec.

Believe it or not......all of this leads me back to Ireland and the desire to see this 'magical jewel' sparkle at its best during the Christmas Season like a dark green, velvet cloak sprinkled with crystal snowflakes and dazzling colored lights! This Season is a very special time of the year anywhere you might be, especially when you are with those you love and hold dear.

 

 

That's exactly where you will find us this year....contentedly snuggled in front of a crackling fire with five of the most darling children helping to keep us warm, secure and happy. If Papa and I are brave, we will help them make snowmen outside and then return indoors for steaming mugs of hot cocoa and mountains of books to be read to them throughout our visit. With a modern twist to the traditional Christmas carol sung around the artfully decorated tree, it's over the river and through the woods to our daughters' houses we go......and, Papa and I are looking forward to each and every moment of it. When the need to be someplace else during this special time of the year hits us again, and it will, I have this feeling that we'll be taking quite a few people along with us for the ride. For now, my precious island is called Happiness and it exists in our hearts.

Merry Christmas and Happy Holidays to everyone!!

My Collections II

Sixth in a series......


Green Fields, Blue Skies and Memories

 A Series of Short Stories

By: Jacqueline E. Hughes


Green.  A beautiful color.  Forty different shades of it definitely describes the Ireland we have come to know and love.  Thank you, Mr. Cash!  I believe you may have 'nailed' that one...

As an occasional visitor to this colorful island, my attention is drawn to the variations of the color green (my favorite color, in fact) when I scan the rich, glossy darkness of green valleys, or the olive tones of unending fields bathed in golden sunlight and the moss that clings to, well, just about everything, or witness the calming blue/green hues of an 'ancient forest' bisected by a gravelly path secretly begging to be conquered.  Then there is the deep purple/green of the expansive shoreline of Ireland's many inland lakes, outlined by volcanic rock washed smooth by foamy waves day after day and resembling a child's coloring-book picture outlined in black to accentuate its perimeter.   Oh, the joy of the color green!

One moment, please! 

 

My own two eyes, as well as the camera lens, can attest to many other shades of reflected light (color) that is predominant within the outstanding landscape provided by Ireland.  We have sturdy shades of gray and ochre that form the solidity of her many mountains.  There are rock walls and ancient structures built by man from this incredible source of material.  Fifty shades of gray, at least, and a much better 'read' into and for the mind than the modern paperback trilogy best seller of today by that title...  Who is not enamored by the sight of a quaint stone cottage replete with a thatched roof or the construction feats demonstrated by the existence of long ago castles and more modern abbeys and hunting lodges that sweep the Irish countryside?

Blue.  The spaces between the white clouds above, as well as the green fields below.  Not only does this amazing color totally surround the land in terms of the Atlantic Ocean and the Irish Sea, but its inland lakes offer varying shades of it anywhere from cold, steely grays to cheerful summertime aquamarine with one changing into another within a matter of moments depending on the sun, cloud cover or rain.

We began walking the Newvillage Recreation Area moderate trail one morning which turned out to be a three and a half mile, cardio-intense gravel walk in the shape of a horseshoe that gently meandered through the undulating woods on the outskirts of Oughterard.  Deviating off of The Western Way as we followed along the shores of Lough Corrib, we entered this fairy tale world of canopied vegetation dripping with sparkling raindrops and sporadic rays of sunlight newly emerging minutes into our walk.  When we stopped for a few moments to take it all in, we discovered the soothing sounds of a gurgling stream and crisp late September leaves scrunching under the weight of invisible predators.  The crunch, crunch of the gravel beneath our hiking shoes accompanied us once again like the rhythm of a Sousa march as we navigated the horseshoe bend and found we were elevated high above Lough Corrib that now dazzled us with its trail of royal blue water punctuated by minute white caps in the distance.   We were alive within the harmonious state of sounds and color and there was no other place at that exact moment we would rather be...

I remember looking out over land and sea on the summit of Diamond Hill several days before as I cataloged the shimmering blue dots of Lough Auna, Nahillion and Kylemore and my eyes scanned the wider 'blues' of Killary and Ballynakill Harbors that led out to the darkening depths of the Atlantic Ocean.  One can easily observe the harmony between land and water at this height and understand a little bit better how masterfully this intriguing island was formed so many years before. 

As my husband graciously chauffeured us around the colorful natural beauty of Connemara, I grew to appreciate every aspect of the area and proceeded to catch as much as I physically could with my trusty Canon camera in hand.  It's quite a treat for me to look back at all of my pictures to find that many of my 'collections' are strictly cataloged by their color!!  I even find myself prefacing each with a color description such as 'gray' fences or 'brightly colored' boats or crumbling 'gray' houses and mucky 'brown' bog lands.  For some reason the integrity of color is heightened and intensified for me in Ireland.  It isn't just the meandering expanse of the River Shannon, but rather the intense blue water of the River Shannon outlined by the bright green grasses along its shoreline.  Ireland seems to enhance my senses and allows me to see deeper into the natural beauty of her landscapes, man-made engineering wonders, as well as her delightful and extremely hospitable people.  I definitely feel 'right at home' when in Ireland.

Even though I sit here now holding tightly to the souvenir rock I brought home and captured from beneath the chilled waters of Lough Corrib, its vibes tell me to wait for another day to post the pictures and personal story of our time along its magnificent shores.  My heart wishes to share the color gray with you, yet again, in the form of once very personal places lived and loved in by Irish families some years ago and now left to decay in the harsh weather from season to season like forgotten testaments to what once was....  Within each structure my heart feels the birth of a child and the death of an aging grandparent.  I can celebrate birthdays in them and know marriages were consummated there, as well.  From the whitewashed, smoke-laden stone walls, I smell the pungent and acidic odor of thousands of peat fires that kept many people from freezing to death in the night.  I smell the tension of sad, overworked women and mothers who wait desperately for their husbands to return home with food to feed the young bairns.  I listen to the echoes of family decisions bouncing off the walls as to whether or not they should stay and wait it out or pack-up their meager belongings and abandon their birthright for a ticket to America! 

These emotions exhaust me down to my very core because I feel so much life surrounding these structures as if they were still occupied today!  So many questions, too.  Did they find time to appreciate the sweet beauty of the world that surrounded them?  Were they working so long and hard just to stay alive?  In fighting for what they needed, did they lose sight of all they had?  I often wonder....

As modern day visitors of this incredible place called Ireland, manned with rental car, camera and sustenance to be found at the nearest restaurant or pub, we can luxuriate within unrestrained time and walk the paths, climb the mountains, fish the lakes and capture a more simple way of living with each picture and breath we take.  We, as tourists, have been elevated to new heights as we ride along on the 'memory train' that was built and navigated by so many lost souls.  May we always remember and appreciate all of their hard work....