Welcome Pre-Cherry Blossom Season

I look forward to that time of the year in Japan when cherry flavored everything hits the shelves in anticipation of beautiful cherry blossom season. I've been on the lookout lately and found this chuhai tonight. Spring can't be far away.

61/366 - Spring is Just Around the Corner
(taken on my iPhone, toyed with in Instagram)

Graduation 2012

Today was graduation day, and these students in particular were special to me because of how much they changed. To quote myself from this post last week:

I will always remember these particular graduating 3rd year classes. They taught me to never give up trying to teach even the more difficult students and to just get more creative and more patient and more focused on whatever successes until, just maybe, the magic happens and some of them come around and surprise you.

Lots of crying today all around, but in between the tears, it looked something like this (well, except that there were students, but to respect their privacy, I can't share those shots publicly - imagine lots of cute, uniformed students).

60(1)/366 - They Seem to Say "Happy Graduation," Don't They?

60(2)/366 - Company's Coming  (and if it's Japan, they'll need indoor shoes)
(these were for folks like the mayor, head of the Board of Ed and other fancy pants people) 

60(3)/366 - To the Gym
(Graduation is held on a school day, and the younger students attend, sing and even
give a thank you speech to their sempais that will make everyone cry.) 

60(4)/366 - The Stage
(Students do not come up one by one for their diplomas, but speeches happen here, and the principal gives
the diplomas to the class rep, who gives them to the homeroom teachers for each class to distribute later.)

60(5)/366 - Homeroom 3D Forever
(This is the 3D homeroom teacher about to give out the diplomas.)

60(6)/366 - Graduation Bento
(Colorful, elaborate, delicious and reminds me of the way flowers have a way of saying something.)

The Woman She Was Before All of That

This is that day. The one that comes every year. The day after my mother's birthday. The anniversary of her death. This time it's 17 years. Ridiculous. Impossible.

Lou Gherig's disease (ALS) is indescribably and unbelievably cruel. I still look back and wonder if it wasn't all just some nightmare. For many years, on this day, it was so hard not to remember her that way, the woman shrunken and distorted in sickness with a mind alive and well trapped inside the prison of a paralyzed body (I still can't imagine), instead of the woman she was before all of that. I want to remember that one:

The one that could speak (usually too loud). The one that could hug (the best kind of no holds barred hugs). The one that could smile (happily, mischievously, she had all kinds). The one that could laugh (loudly, from her gut, sometimes at inappropriate times). The one that really was my mom.

58/366 - The same flowers, depending on mood.
(taken on my iPhone, toyed with in BeFunky app)

March 13th, 2012 (for lack of a better title)

It's my mom's birthday. And I miss her. Rather than attempt to write some elaborate post that I just don't have it in me to write after this past week or so, I dug through some old posts and enjoyed wandering through some memories. Three stand out: one where I described my mom, one where I told her a hilarious story that happened to me in part because I am her daughter (if you understandably don't click on all three, just go read this one, seriously - I'm a nut, and I bet you will laugh) and another where I sorted out just where it is that I know she lives now. She does not live in the sky. Still, she is all around me and within me, and seeing a beautiful sky today on the way home from work somehow seemed fitting.

57/366 - Happy Birthday, Mom.
(taken on my iPhone, as is, amazingly enough)

The Road Ahead

I've had to make some very difficult decisions lately. From those consequences came the opportunity to make another decision that is more than a little long overdue. It never occurred to me that I had a choice. I am at once sad yet liberated, walking forward on a road that may be bumpy but that will lead me to a place of healthy perspective where the truth I know carries more weight than what someone thinks they know.

56(1)/366 - I. Am.
(taken on my iPhone, toyed with, sepia'd and stuff)

56(2)/366 - Me and My Shadow, Facing the Road Ahead
(taken on my iPhone, toyed with, sepia'd and stuff)