Earlier today, I spent some time reorganizing my bookshelves which, on the face of it, probably doesn’t sound terribly significant. Shifting books to and fro is hardly cause for excitement, nor is putting books away in a closet in order to make room for other books. Unless, of course, the books that you’re carefully piling away in storage are your pregnancy books, and you’re putting them away because you’ve more or less reached the conclusion that you’re not going to be needing them anytime soon.

For a long time after The Kid (I’ve decided he’s too big to be the Little One anymore) was born, I refused to even consider the possibility of having another. After all, it had been a difficult pregnancy and a complicated birth, one that could have cost me my life. We’d tried to have a child for nine years, and now that we’d finally succeeded, I couldn’t imagine putting myself through all of that again. I was emotionally drained from my pregnancy experience and terrified by my birthing experience, and the prospect of pushing our luck and trying for a sibling was simply too exhausting to contemplate.

To be honest, I wasn’t even sure I wanted another child. I liked the idea of giving our son a sibling, but when it came down to it, was that really reason enough to try again? At some point, though, I realized that perhaps it would be nice to have another, but that I wasn’t prepared to take extraordinary measures to do so. If it happened – great. Our son would have a sibling, and people would stop asking us when we were going to give him one. If not, well, we had somehow managed to bring a pretty fabulous little boy into the world, and given the road we’d traveled to do so, counting our blessings would not be difficult.

My collection of pregnancy books – ranging from the usual “What to Expect…” fare to books about high-risk pregnancy – remained on the bookshelf, and as the years passed with only a few glimmers of hope that were dashed rather quickly, I started to accept the fact that it just wasn’t going to happen. I hadn’t given up yet, but that being said, I was still feeling ambivalent. There were times when I wanted another child more than anything, yet there were also times when I absolutely didn’t. The thought of going through another high-risk pregnancy and birth didn’t thrill me either, but through it all, the books stayed where they were.

Until today, for apparently today was the day I gave up. It wasn’t premeditated; in fact, rearranging the bookshelves was very much an unplanned activity, coming about only after the contents of one of my shelves suddenly crashed to the floor, leaving me with no choice but to clean up the mess. Items were sorted into piles – books, magazines, papers and so on, and each pile was given a new home. As I sorted, I stared at those pregnancy books. And I realized, with a twinge of sadness, that perhaps the time had come to put them away. They had sat on that shelf in the bottom, right-hand corner for years, collecting dust and taking up space as I clung to the possibility of being able to open them once again. Allowing them to remain on the shelf was symbolic, for in that position, the books were easily accessible, which meant I could grab one at a moment’s notice should the need arise to do so. Today, I reluctantly accepted the fact that the need was probably not going to arise, that in all likelihood, we will not be providing our son with a sibling. One by one, I pulled those books off the shelf, carried them down the hallway, and with mixed emotions, placed them high up in a closet with all the other books I have no plans to open anytime soon, if ever.

It always feels strange to give up on something; I suspect that we finally succeeded in having our son because it was easier to keep trying than to stop, for as long as we kept going, it meant we still had hope. Today I packed those books away, and while I suppose there’s always a chance I may need them again, the hope – like the books – is now gone.

An aria
That causes my heart
To explode with wild emotion
Capturing my soul
And stealing my breath away

A beauty
That renders me
Utterly speechless
Filling my eyes with tears
And bringing unspeakable pleasure

A love
That draws me
Into places unknown
Taking over my body and spirit
Completely

A longing
To touch
To feel
To kiss
To taste
For all of my senses
Are yours

I gaze upon the little boy; I watch him as he sleeps
I think of all the things he knows; the knowledge that he reaps
I do my best to teach him well; to teach him wrong from right
I tell him not to judge the others, merely based on sight

I tell him everybody’s different, but different isn’t bad
In fact it’s quite the opposite; a reason to be glad
To celebrate the differences; to accept them one and all
For when it comes right down to it, the differences are small

I want him to embrace the “other”; not to run and hide
To understand that good and bad don’t depend upon the side
I want him to internalize the importance of respect
That being kind to others, can have profound effect

I know it’s not so simple, to shape a little boy
To try to pass on values when he’d rather play with toys
But as I watch him slumber, dreaming through the night
The best that I can do, is hope I’ve got it right

If you ask what I like, I can tell you with ease
That my favorite food is of course Japanese
Sushi and tofu – agedashi – that’s right
These are the foods I could eat every night

And with this disclosure, you surely can guess
When it comes to my birthday, the food I request
Will always be seaweed with rice and wasabi
I admit to addiction – it’s not just a hobby

With blessed good fortune, twas some years ago
A dinner was had, and with it – a show
My dear friends and I – we sat and we stared
Admittedly feeling a little bit scared

The food in the bowl had started to wiggle
I looked at my friends and we started to giggle
For in all of my years I had not had the chance
To see agedashi tofu that danced

The performance continued for so very long
That the waiters wondered if something was wrong
For all we could do, my two friends and I
Was stare at that food with tears in our eyes

We laughed ourselves silly at what had transpired
Our laughter was totally tofu-inspired
It had nothing to do with us being cocky
Though maybe – just maybe – we’d had too much saké

Words that haunt
And make you wonder
If what you’ve done is right
Taunting, teasing, tearing

Words that shine
Touching you everywhere
Make you smile from within
And bring you joy

Words that wound
Pieces of your soul
Dropping into your heart
Rock-hard and heavy

Words that lift
Your spirits high
Allowing you to soar
And setting you free

Words said in anger
Cannot be taken back
Once they have been cast
Out into the open

Words from the heart
Can heal pain
Inflicted by other words
Sometimes

I think I may have cut my editor off mid-sentence when she asked if I’d be interested in doing a story about the Recanati Winery, for obviously, there was no question in my mind that this was a story I wanted to do. I was given a private tour of the winery by charming head winemaker, Gil Shatsberg, and then had the opportunity to chat with him and winery CEO Noam Jacoby over an outstanding array of wines (the rosé was my personal favorite…) , cheeses and bread. If you listen to my recording of the interview, you can periodically hear corks being popped, the clinking of wine glasses and wine being poured. It’s a tough job, but someone’s got to do it…

Here’s a taster of the whole article, which can be found here.

Wish I could take the pain away
Yours and mine – just cast it astray
Bury the sorrow in holes so deep
Just take the sadness and put it to sleep

Wish I could bottle elation and bliss
Then pass it around at times such as this
Let us get drunk on joy and delight
Forget all our troubles and laugh through the night

Wish I could reach out and touch the sky, then borrow a star or two
One for you and one for me – to hold when we’re feeling blue
For everyone knows the power they have – the magic they carry inside
Unleashed by the children who wish upon stars and grownups with nothing to hide

Wish I could…
Steal more time
Stop the clock
Catch a star
Make you smile

Wish I could…

The boy who would be twelve today – he’s lost inside my dreams
He weaves his way around my thoughts on unrelated themes
He hides among the shadows – they dance around my mind
Slipping in and out, simply to remind…

The boy who would be twelve today – he lives inside my soul
He plays with my emotions; he dares me to be whole
He’s always in there somewhere, tiptoeing about
I wish I had the strength, to simply let him out…

The boy who would be twelve today – he’s stuck in moments past
He’ll never know of all he missed; his life went by too fast
He’ll never see a different world; I regret the one he had
And looking back today, it makes me very sad…

Didn’t ask for this to happen; never wanted it to be
There’s nothing brave about it; no courage to be me
It’s not a path I chose – Just do my best to cope
So please don’t say I’m brave; that my courage gives you hope

I do the best I can, to keep the lock on tight
But as the dates approach, I start to lose the fight
Long ago, I built a wall, trying to contain
The feelings I would not reveal; not showing any pain

Every now and then, though, the wall begins to crack
And all the strength I thought I had – it suddenly goes slack
Emotions get the best of me; no longer in control
And the crumbling façade, begins to take its toll

Nothing I can do, but wait until they’ve passed
Those dates that sometimes rule my life – they come around too fast
Don’t want this to be who I am; to feel my soul’s been scraped
But when your life’s been ripped apart, there’s really no escape

Sometimes, life isn’t so great. You get bogged down in the negatives and lose sight of the good stuff – the stuff that makes you smile. And, while I’m not trying to minimize the negatives (and these days, there are more than a few, what with a friend being very sick, political and environmental disasters that are seemingly at every turn, a difficult job market, etc.), perhaps taking some time to focus on the positives will help take you to a better place. That’s why I’ve decided to take up a challenge – one that I will also pass on to you. But more on that later…

Fabulously talented author Isabel Losada (you really must read her books if you haven’t – even my son thinks she’s wonderful 😉 ) wrote a book entitled 100 Reasons to Be Glad, and as she shares her own list, she challenges readers to come up with their own. And because you know I simply can’t resist a challenge – especially one as interesting as this one, let’s see what I can come up with (in no particular order, of course).

My 100 reasons to be glad:

1. My son
2. Who tells me he loves me
3. On a daily basis
4. And shows me with hugs.
5. I am reasonably healthy.
6. My son and husband are healthy.
7. My parents are reasonably healthy.
8. I have amazing people in my life
9. Who, for reasons I can’t always fathom, seem to care about me very deeply.
10. I have a great family – both nuclear and extended.
11. I’ve been married to my husband for almost 17 years – no small feat in today’s world.
12. I live close to the desert
13. Where I can always find inner peace
14. And inspiration.
15. Dark chocolate.
16. I am free to criticize my government.
17. Puppies.
18. I get paid to do what I love (most of the time).
19. I live in a country with lots of sunshine.
20. Writing.
21. Having friends who love words as much as I do.
22. I have people in my life who truly seem to get me (even when we don’t always get along).
23. Latté.
24. I am no longer lactose intolerant.
25. My son has a wonderful sense of humor.
26. I have a shiny red bicycle.
27. Beautiful music.
28. Facebook.
29. Sushi.
30. International sports competitions.
31. The internet enables me to connect with people I might never have “met” otherwise
32. And to easily maintain contact with friends and loved ones who live far away.
33. Penguins.
34. I live in a country that has socialized medicine.
35. I can go for a walk around my neighborhood and town at any time of the day or night.
36. My son is inquisitive and curious.
37. In the US, I can buy clothes in petite sizes.
38. I have food on my plate, clothes on my body and a roof over my head.
39. Coffee.
40. Bill Bryson books.
41. I live in a beautiful country with a vibrant culture.
42. We can afford to take our son to visit family in the US every year.
43. Beautifully written words.
44. I got to grow up in an idyllic small town in Upstate New York – which I didn’t appreciate until I visited as an adult.
45. Fall foliage (which I miss terribly!).
46. Artists who live in my town and open their homes and studios to the public several times a year.
47. I live 15 minutes (by car) from the beach.
48. I got to help my best friend celebrate her birthday last year in Barcelona – with twelve other incredible women.
49. People like my writing.
50. Good people seem to outnumber bad people.
51. My son knows that he is loved and cherished.
52. I have people in my life who make me laugh.
53. There are a lot of people who do what they can to make the world a better place.
54. Random acts of kindness.
55. Pretty flowers.
56. Cappuccino.
57. Electrical appliances that make our lives easier.
58. The generosity of artists who share their work – visual artists, performing artists, musicians, authors, etc.
59. Calves that like to suck on your fingers.
60. Good books.
61. Monty Python.
62. When something (a book, a poem, a painting, a song, etc.) is so beautiful that it moves me to tears.
63. I know how to make snow angels.
64. The existence of bird sanctuaries.
65. Indoor plumbing.
66. Crayons.
67. Finger paint.
68. I know that I have inner strength.
69. Gentle breezes on a hot summer day.
70. I like to write poetry.
71. My son no longer believes that he is an only child, even though he will never have the opportunity to meet his brother.
72. Photographs that never fade.
73. Sweet memories.
74. Going barefoot in summer.
75. Comfortable shoes that also look good.
76. There’s no such thing as too much spaghetti.
77. Macchiato.
78. Kittens that purr when you rub behind their ears.
79. S’mores.
80. Duvets and flannel sheets on cold winter nights.
81. Having a favorite pair of jeans (in my case, my Gap “Long & Lean” style jeans with the flared bottom).
82. Good hair days.
83. There are still people who believe that peace is possible
84. And I am one of them – most of the time.
85. Beauty is all around us – we just forget to look sometimes.
86. My son still likes to hold my hand, and clearly finds comfort in doing so.
87. Taking every opportunity to teach my son from a young age that being different doesn’t equal being bad – no matter what that “difference” might be.
88. Being able to create the conditions I need in order to achieve more balance in my life.
89. Living in a home with so much natural light that I don’t have to turn on the lights at all during daylight hours, unless I enter a room without windows (of which there is only one).
90. Stuffed animals (no, not taxidermy – I meant the ones that more often than not are probably made in China…).
91. Watching couples figure skating competitions.
92. The touch of someone you care about (and who cares about you).
93. Soft, chewy chocolate chip cookies that you can practically bend in half.
94. Dogs that wag their tails and cover you with kisses because they’re so happy to see you – even if you’ve only gone to take the garbage out.
95. Long lunches with good friends.
96. Long phone calls with good friends who live far away.
97. Having first row balcony seats at a Beach Boys concert.
98. Letting my son clobber me with snowballs or drench me in water fights, just because it makes him happy.
99. Being in the desert at night, when the inky black sky is full of stars and symbols of civilization are kept to a minimum.
100. Coffee.

And now, my lovely readers (and yes, you are all lovely – even the cheeky ones), here is my challenge to you. In the comments section for this post, I want you to write your own reasons to be glad. I’m not asking for one hundred, but if I can do that many, surely most of you can share just a few of your own. Go on, then. I’ll wait here…

Oh, and any bloggers reading this are, of course, welcome to take this challenge to their own blogs. Come on, people! Let’s see what you can do!

*The title of this post was taken from the title of Isabel Losada’s book of the same name.