Green is My Fav-O-rite Color

I can't say that title without thinking about Aerosmith. Irregardless, after 29 years I have finally found an answer to the ever-ridiculous question, "what is your favorite color?" Unless you say black, no one cares.

Although no one cares, I was walking today under a canopy of blossoming spring trees, and I finally identified my favorite color. It is the bright, translucent spring-green that blankets the greyish-white branches of the trees, creating a beautiful forest out of the parks in Manhattan. In the winter, everything is grey. The grey sidewalks become a familiar sight, head down with each rapid step to slice through the wind that whips fiercely between stone cold silver buildings. The leaves are lost like fallen soldiers in the fall months, leaving the trees naked and exposed in their shades of grey. The sky is grey. The clouds are grey. People become grey. I wonder if Adam Duritz gained his inspiration from a New York winter for so many of his lyrics... grey guitar and play... something about the shades of grey...

Perhaps that is why this vibrant green lights up my soul each time I step outside. It's the end of May, and spring is just now settling in on New York. The initial blossoms have come and gone, and in their wake they bestowed a gorgeous spectrum of green that symbolizes life, renewal and change.



I have always loved trees. I grew up on 5 acres of pecan trees, free to roam with open space around me and my imagination gushing forth in the sticky Texas summers, fireflies dancing at dusk. As I've gotten older, they have become so symbolic of life. In the wintertime they look dead, barren. But they always bloom, and their buds bring hope and beauty.



I have never endured a winter comparable to my first winter in New York. The cold set in around late October and didn't relent for seven months. Spring brings a unique and intense energy to New York City. People have been couped up in their shoebox Manhattan apartments for over 200 days. When the Lady sunshine finally makes her grand debut, New Yorkers literally gush onto the streets, sitting out on sidewalk cafes and lying in the green grass of the many parks of the city, basking in the rich sunshine on any patch of earth on which they can bask.

Spring, I am glad you're here. It's been a while since I've seen you, and I've never experienced your splendor quite like this. Continue to bring hope to my spirit as you show me how in time, all things become new, once again.

Where Would I Be If Not For These Women?

Hats of to the mothers of the world. Today, hats off to the mothers in my family: my beautiful mother Carla, my grandmothers Florence Cora "Flo" and Doris, and my beautiful sister, Jaime, now a mother of her 2 precious boys, my nephews Lawson and Peyton, who are the loves of my life.

I got to spend the week with my family this past week, and love is gushing from my heart with gratitude for the 'tribe' that I was so graciously put in. Of course no family is perfect, but I am thankful daily for the family that is mine, and I ponder on how I got so lucky to have such a family when so many people don't.

I could talk about my beloved dad, Jim, and how I adore his jokes and how he'll chuckle heartily under his breath for 5 minutes after telling a joke because he thinks it to be so funny. I could talk about his love pats and adoring eyes when he looks upon his 2 daughters and 2 grandsons, but this time is devoted to mothers.

I will always treasure this picture. To have my young mother and dear grandmothers so attentively participating in my Fisher Price cooking school warms my heart and brings little flicks of tears to my eyes. I was so loved as a child. I still am so loved.

The powerful love of my mother set a foundation of love and kindness in my life. Every morning she gently opened my door, glided to my bed in her blue floral bathrobe and quietly sat down next to me, stroking my back with her graceful hands as she brought me from my slumber. "Ashley, sweetie. It's time to wake up," she would speak almost in a whisper as to not wake me too abruptly. She picked me up and carried me downstairs and was so tender in all of her ways. I loved how she made my favorite breakfasts, either teddy bear pancakes or 'egg in a frame.' Moms know how to love in such a way that they show you the worth of who you were created to be.

She was always there. Cheerleading and gymnastics practice, watching me in the stands at pep rallies and football games, at every award ceremony. I knew that I could count on my mom. As I've gotten older, I've seen how much I took that faithful love from my mother for granted. I didn't know at the time that it was special. That not all moms loved like she did. I never had to look into the crowd with a sinking feeling in my stomach wondering if she would be there or not. She just was. Always.

Thank you, mom. You loving kindness has helped to shape me into the woman that I am today. You have built a legacy of love that has already started to be passed down to your grandsons through Jaime, and I hope that same legacy of love will be passed down to my children in the future.

To my grandmothers, you lived in a different era, and era when women had to be superwomen. Thank you for the sacrifices you made to be all things to your family in order to show love and provision. Summers spent at your houses are childhood memories of adventures that lie dormant in the volcano of my mind, always bubbling and reminding me of the foundation on which my life has been built. As you soon turn 85 and 90 years old, I treasure each moment we have together and grow more thankful for you each day.

So I reflect on this Mothers Day with a full heart, grateful for the women in my life who have mothered and shaped me in to the person and woman that I am today. With love and gratitude in my heart, I thank you.