A different view

 It was a different view out the door this morning than for the past few days. Quieter too.

It is the quiet that is most refreshing. City noises are more distant here. Sounds of traffic muted, voices on the street unheard. Though there are birds chirping in the backyard, fluttering about the feeder, vying for position.

I am off the roof.

And did I mention? I am tired.

My eldest daughter flew in from Vancouver last night. It was beautiful and sunny in Vancouver when I left, she informed her sister and me when we picked her up. I ran along the seawall this afternoon. It was gorgeous.

I suggested she imagine the snow as white waves undulating across the ground.

She was not impressed with my humour. "I'm so funny," I reminded her. Both she and her sister rolled their eyes.

We had dinner and C.C. joined us when he arrived back from Saskatoon. It was his birthday and mine today so we celebrated and laughed and teased each other. The girls did their imitation of me not wanting to be the centre of attention and I laughed and told them that it's not that I want to be the centre of attention, it's just that I believe it's important to get people's attention so that they find the centre of their truth and give it all their attention.

They rolled their eyes, again, and nudged eachother. "It's ok, mum," Alexis the eldest said. "In therapy this week I realized, you are the reason I'm so messed up."

I smiled. "Then it worked!" I exclaimed. "I always told you growing up that one day you'd be in therapy and I felt as a mother it was important to give you lots to work with. I've succeeded!"

Liseanne, witty as every, quickly inserted, folding her hands in front of her on the table, leaning slightly forward and speaking in a quiet, serious tone (I think she might have been attempting to imitate me, again). "Yes, well the way I see it is we figure you need to be in therapy now mom so we're giving you lots to work with. Mothers always blame their daughters for their problems so we're just making sure you don't waste good therapy."

I love my daughters. They give me so much good therapy.

All is well in my world.

I am home.

After three days and nights sleeping on the roof of the homeless shelter where I work, I am off the roof and ensconced in my favourite corner of the front room.  C.C. is asleep in our bed and Ellie is curled up on her mat beside me. Marley lays sprawled across the back of the sofa and the girls, after spending hours curled up together on Alexis' bed getting caught up last night, are now both sleeping in their rooms.

All is well in my world.

This afternoon, we're off to pick out our tree (I wanted to go into the forest to chop one down but after the girls quit rolling on the floor laughing, they convinced me the three of us alone in the woods with an ax might not be a pretty sight -- though we could take an ax to the Christmas tree lot, my youngest suggested, and take photos of you 'pretending' to cut down a tree. -- yes, because of my daughters, I do need therapy.)

Tonight, C.C's son and daughter will join us in decorating the Christmas tree, hanging bows and ribbons, sharing in laughter and song and a meal.

I am glad for the time on the roof. I am happy to be home.

And in the end, that is the truth -- we all want to get home. Sometimes, the path is more difficult. but we must never quit trying and never quit helping those who are lost find their way back home.

Namaste.