I woke up in the middle of the night to go the bathroom in our upstair’s bathroom. I looked off to the left (south-west direction and smiled seeing the orange hue(aura) around the almost full moon. When I returned alone to my front (east-side) bedroom, I knew I would not fall back to sleep. Instead I stretched, prayed and did Reiki on myself and sent out the light and prayers to our home, village, state, country, world, universe and heavens. The prayers and Reiki have been returned to us by believers and non-believers who practice good prayers in nature.

This past winter the weather was mild; however, extremely, depressing because we had no sunshine for the whole month of January. The weather was documented by a Kindergarten classroom where I taught and hope to return to someday, if possible. I felt alone like many others.

Like Maya Angelou her voice was silent as she was sexually abused as a child, but grew stronger through her years of education, healing, life experiences and growing into a beautiful soul. Hearing her testimony and poetry read-aloud by herself at Canandaigua Community College opened my heart, mind and soul. I was no longer alone.

During that time I attended SUNY Plattsburgh for my Bachelor’s Degree with a Major in English Literature and Minor in Women’s Studies (all of the isms). I was discouraged to follow my dreams of concentrating on Written English because three of my professors didn’t teach or show me how to become a better writer. They advised me to sell my writing ideas and have someone else write my stories and also to not pursue teaching Secondary Education English.

My whole life– I have loved writing stories, journal entries, poetry, personal narratives, etc…. I have always had great teachers support my voice through my writing. Sometimes life gets in the way and I don’t make writing a daily priority. Earlier in the week, a Croghan friend and retired school teacher whom I worked with over the years, listened to me share my increased caretaking of my Father. She ended the conversation on a note –Keep writing. We both smiled as I wiped the sweat of my brow from the heat and humidity and headed back to our own vehicles. Before I crossed the street, I turned back towards her direction and motioned with a circle around my head and spoke out loud, the ideas are always there–I just need to make the time to write and I will.

I took the extra time for myself this morning –showering, shaving and getting dressed quietly upstairs in our third bathroom this early morning. Through prayer I have learned to walk more gently in our home and to not wake anyone or my dog.

I descend our steep stairs in our old home from the Victorian Era. Our home is older than the Basselin House, but right next door. I feel the Good Christian Spirits that have lived in this home. Our home now. My father will pass to heaven in this home when it is his time. I will also pass on in our home many years from now.

My dog quietly greets me at the door when I open it into our living room where he sleeps. Every morning he sneezes two or three times and I say God Bless You over him. I tell him be very, very quiet like the Bugs Bunny cartoon and not wake anyone sleeping in our home and not to chase all of the wild bunnies in our small backyard. Most of the time he listens to me when he is outside going the bathroom. We both enjoy this quiet time Spring turning into Summer (New Growth, Change, Storms More Sunlight, and More Energy). He sniffs around under our raised beds, young blue spruce tree and our shared pine tree with the Basselin House neighbors (cats and bunny scents). Sometimes while taking him out we go for short walks in the Village of Croghan.

This morning at dawn with the sun shining a pink light, wearing my father’s old slip on shoes , the air was less heavy and no humidity, I lowered my right or left arm from giving thanks to the highest cross beaming over our home at the St. Stephen’s Church . Thanking God for this new day and saying out loud, “God is Good All the Time, and When God is Good it is All the Time.’ I speak to my dog…let’s go for a walk or walkie-talkie.

He is smart and together we stroll slowly down the main street of the village spotting no one or dogs out. Although we don’t walk all around the whole main street–I closely look at the old Basselin House, Bank, Grocery Store, Post Office, Apartment Buildings, Feed Mill Ice Cream/Bike Shop, Train Station, Grocery Store, Library, Fire Department, Farms, Homes and so on. A few years ago the Village Mayor dressed in an old black Victorian dress and hat and gave a historical walking tour of our village. My eyes, spirit and love for this village after taking almost 20 years of living up here was on fire and continues to burn more and more each day as the locals finally accept me and I accept them back. I have proven myself again, been forgiven, as I forgive many and still do.

When our walk ended and my dog and I crossed the street back to our home, I saw the white glowing light shine behind my Father’s white shear curtain. My mouth was dry and I was ready for our first cup of coffee.

My Dad being on oxygen 24/7 the past 5 years, slows us down to a good pace. We eat slower and talk about the past, present and future. Together we teach these lessons to my young adult son and girlfriend when they visit us. My son is smart, intuitive, kind, a dreamer, well-balanced and forgiving too.

As I drink some of my coffee in our open kitchen and living room , I bring out a cup of black coffee with two spoonfuls of sugar to my Dad sitting in his wood twig (Native American) chair made by a past boyfriend of mine years ago. The air is less heavier and easier for him to breath. I pick off old, dead flower buds off of my wicker hanging baskets from a local Christian family-based greenhouse and landscaping. Our first person we saw walk by our home, I stopped him with good morning and a smile. The man is older and I knew where he lived , but never took the time to say hello and listen to his stories. He told me he is the oldest alive in his family from Croghan. I could tell he was kind and an Old Soul.

He was excited for the Croghan Street Fair later on to bring our village out and together once again. He added he hopes people would stop by his garage sale and visit and continue on. After getting my mail today at the post office, I made a point to not over look him. He opened my heart and eyes as I looked over his old treasures and felt the memories and love pour out of every item. As I shopped, I asked if he was related to a dear friend and Pastor who grew up in Croghan, lives in Port Leyden, was the Pastor at Abundant Life Fellowhiop in Boonville and now is an Elder Pastor there. He told me they are second cousins and how their fathers hunted and fished together. He added how Pastor Tabolt’s father drowned in Crystal Creek Lake in his 50s. We paused for the dead and smiled for the living. The cycle is always flowing. I admired him and stopped judging him based upon what I heard in town and judged with my own eyes. Everything was well-organized, reasonably priced and displayed just right. I picked out three gifts that spoke to my soul. He only asked $7 and I gave him a $10 and told him to get a cold drink at the Croghan Street Fair. He wanted to give me change back and I said everything comes back around.

The Croghan Street Fair is a great social time for the existing extended families, connected exhibitors and new and old shoppers to help and share –baked goods, produce, food trucks, local artisans and live local musicians plus the local stores extending their hours to promote our village. Although it is too much walking for my Dad as he gets his strength and breathing stronger –he enjoys looking out his window, sitting on our front porch or resting as the voices sing through the walls of our home.

After my Dad and I feed our minds, bodies and spirits he will prepare salads from local, fresh farm eggs (a family friend), vegetables from local Mennonite stores and lettuce and spinach from our raised beds. We respect one another and he allows me to finish writing this blog before dinner .Then as the sun starts to lower in the west over Tabolt’s farm, I will step out on the streets like past visitors and residents of Croghan many years ago. I can see the success and thriving village throughout time–past present and future.

Thank you Village of Croghan–I no longer feel like an outsider. Blessings!!!