Pink Lines

On October 12, 2025October 14, 2025 By Lauren Scott, AuthorIn Personal Stories, Poetry108 Comments

I remember when the pink lines on white stood out brilliantly like pink peppermint candy. Those lines said it all, spoke the truth – my life with my husband was about to change, slowly like pouring molasses. We had been married for two years, so we were ready to start a family. In less than nine months, we would receive a gift, a tiny human who would depend on us, the adults, to highlight the beauty that life offers and to protect her or him from harm.

When I thought deeply about what it would feel like to be pregnant and what was to come, the notion of pain grabbed my attention! I assumed that I had a low tolerance, but soon enough, I would learn more about my capabilities. Little did I know that in less than forty weeks, I would give birth naturally without medication, and then a second time a few years later, again without medication. I learned so much about myself.

Then my brain started working overtime, and you know what trouble that can cause. I was nervous about becoming a mom. Will I know what to do in each circumstance? Will my reactions be intuitive? What if I fail at the most important career in my opinion, being a parent?

The insecurities huddled together creating a force that couldn’t be accessed. They hurled at me like hurricane winds. Then the momentous day arrived; our baby was ready for the meet and greet. We had decided to let the gender remain concealed until we saw our precious bundle. After a 6 ½ hour labor, she entered our world with rosebud lips, and those insecurities scattered like ants.

My husband stood by the bed, comforting me in any way he could, and then he felt privileged to cut the umbilical cord. What an experience for him! It was his out-of-body moment just like giving birth to a little human was mine. In that instance of time, I became a mom, and he became a dad. New hats were immediately added to our wardrobes, along with new responsibilities. We would do our best so that our little girl would know how much her parents love her, so that she would feel safe.

Almost four years later, our family of four was complete when our son came into our world, bringing the same out-of-body experience for my husband and me. For the second time, we let the gender stay unknown. So when we saw our little boy, elation flowed through our hearts. We had a daughter and son; two tiny bundles of cuteness blessed our lives.

Looking back, watching decades soar by, flipping through memories in our photo albums remind us of how special it was to witness our daughter and son grow and learn, and turn into kind, hard working adults, making us proud a million times over. The laughs, the scary moments, the tears, even the minimal tantrums when they were young, I’d live them all over again, and so would my husband. And worrying about them doesn’t end just because they’re adults. They’ll always be our ‘babies’ regardless of their age.

The most rewarding though is the realization that we did something right because in their adulthood, we have strong relationships with them both. We’ve entered our mid-sixties, so the ‘kids’ are in their thirties. We talk and text all the time, the communication line remains open that travels in both directions. And since they live out of state, pursuing their dreams, paving their paths, we all fly east and west to visit as often as we can.

As I grow older, life seems to become shorter, so the love of my husband and children are the greatest, most priceless gifts. These three amazing people are my everything. Anything else that comes my way in the form of a blessing is a bonus.

First Breath

With every new miracle of life
answers aren’t scripted in the stars,
but I knew since your very first breath
my life would become yours.

Through innocent eyes and curious touch
each new discovery you shared,
your smile grew bigger than the sun,
your heart’s elation declared.

You stowed dreams in the clouds,
imaginings rose higher than the heavens.
Cuddling you in that first euphoric light
made me fall in love with you in seconds.

Life has blossomed into delight and wonder
in every part of its glowing greatness,
and with each ounce of my being,
my enduring love for you is ageless.

(Published in my book, Ever So Gently)

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

I took a walk down memory lane,
and though this is my story and my husband’s,
I hope you enjoyed the stroll.

Thanks for visiting, and have a beautiful week ahead. 🩷

© Lauren Scott, Baydreamerwrites.com
Photo by Snack Toronto on Pexels.com

***Click on my daughter’s image to order your copy!*** 🧡

Lauren Scott

Author – King Copper: Our dog’s life in poetry
Author – Cora’s Quest (a children’s book)
Author – Ever So Gently: A Collection of Poetry
Author – More than Coffee: Memories of Verse and Prose
Author – Finding a Balance: A Collection of Poetry
Author – New Day, New Dreams: A Collection of Poetry
Co-Author – Tranquility: An Anthology of Haiku
Co-Author – Petals of Haiku: An Anthology
Co-Author – This Is How We Grow
Co-Author – Poetry Treasures 2: Relationships
Bi-Monthly Contributor on Gobblers by Masticadores
Spillwords Author of the Month May 2023
Spillwords Publication of the Month October 2024
Spillwords Publication of the Month June 2025

A parking spot brings a smile!

On July 10, 2025 By Lauren Scott, AuthorIn Discussion, Personal Stories88 Comments

Even though the sky was a stunning canvas of vibrancy yesterday morning, my mind was in a funk. Worries flooded each thought, and each worry got stuck like gum under a school desk. But I had to get on with the day – first stop was the post office. I was happy to see that street parking was ample. As I pulled up to the curb, I noticed the truck in front of me was about to leave, so I waited. When the truck pulled out, I pulled up, leaving room for parking behind me. I’ve done this a million times before, and sometimes finding a parking spot feels like winning the lottery. Plus, it’s nice to be able to park with lots of room rather than attempting to squeeze in between two cars. Why not make things easy for the next person?

After I finished inside, I headed for my car. As I sat with my foot on the break, hands on the wheel about to leave, a woman pulled up beside me, motioning for me to roll down my window, which I did. She said, “I just want to thank you for pulling up so that the lady behind me and I could pull in right behind you. There’s a lot of rudeness nowadays, so we found your gesture to be very kind.”

“Of course, I was happy to do that.” I replied, a bit surprised by her kind gesture for the same reason. Then we both went on our merry way. However, the funk that dominated my thoughts earlier had dissipated because I brought a smile to two women from a little bit of kindness. What could have been a frustrating undertaking for them was made a little easier – the gift of a parking space!

This moment yesterday may seem unimportant,
but my experience proves that not only does a simple act of kindness
brighten the recipient’s day, but it does the same for the ‘kindness provider.’

“The smallest act of kindness is worth more than the greatest intention.”
~ Kahlil Gibran

Thanks for visiting, have a fabulous day,
and Cheers to spreading more kindness!
The world would be a much better place!

❤️❤️❤️

Available on Amazon, and Barnes & Noble,
but click on the image to purchase
your copy through Amazon.💜

Laughing Spiders!

On May 4, 2024May 5, 2024 By Lauren Scott, AuthorIn Non-fiction, Personal Stories58 Comments

I’m sharing this story again that ties into my review of Dawn’s book from my prior post. I hope you enjoy again if you’ve already read it. And if you’re reading for the first time, I hope it brings a smile or makes you laugh. 😁

Dad saved my life when I was a little girl! He was my hero, and the unforgettable episode took place when my parents, sisters, and I were at our cabin for a weekend getaway in Big Bear, California. Sugar pines surrounded our little bungalow on the big corner lot in the mountains. We had just finished Mom’s delicious lasagna dinner, and everyone was relaxing in their own way for the rest of the evening. With crayons, I was bringing to life a picture in my coloring book, sitting on our coffee-colored sofa by our stone fireplace, and that’s when Dad noticed the spider on the cushion heading for me at lightning speed. He caught it just before it began the climb onto my leg. In those days, any spider who found itself inside our home didn’t live to see the sunrise the next morning. This moment was traumatic for me, so spiders have been the bane of my existence ever since. Even in my teen years, spiders seemed to follow my every move!

These wee beasts spent much of their time in my bathroom with the sky-blue walls and plush soft matching rugs. Never did they tour my parent’s bathroom. My mind drifts to the morning when I was about to take a shower, getting ready for another day of high school…as I turned the knob and looked up, I watched a spider ride the waves of the cascading waterfall down, down, down. I jerked my head back just in time, and I cringed thinking of that eight-legged creature tangled up in my long brown hair.

Mornings began to fuel anxiety as spider social calls manifested soon after the crack of dawn. The sun brightened the sky and another high school day was on the horizon. I grabbed a towel to dry off after showering when I felt something unnatural. Looking down, I watched in horror as a brown spider scuttled across my chest. I jumped, avoiding a nasty fall in the tub, and brushed the spider off not caring where it landed. I just wanted it off my skin!

I think these creepy-crawlies watched for me so they could plan their next prank. During another shower with my head full of shampoo suds, I spotted a black spider near my feet. The routine my feet performed was not one of a happy dance! With a swish here and there, my foot managed to nudge the scary intruder down the drain with ripples of water. I imagined it whirling into the dark depth of the water system. I quickly rinsed the suds out. Just as I felt calm run through my body, I looked down and noticed that spider climbing out of the drain! This could only happen to me!

I’m not afraid of fangs digging into me. Fear rears its ugly head when they appear out of the blue, startling me out of my wits! Any hope of building armor is hopeless. And they have too many legs; this, combined with their sudden movements of jumping or crawling at high-speed, send me into a tizzy, as my dad used to say. Also, spiders are not pretty. Not to me. The visual doesn’t compare to the beauty of a butterfly. In fact, their creepy appearance propels me into a panic as much as their sudden company!

Even after five decades, I haven’t been able to shake my skittish reactions. Even though I’m a giant compared to the spider, with any fear, the source becomes magnified. So, I’ve diagnosed myself with arachnophobia. And the tale continues…

One incident took place later in life. I’m now a wife and mom with two young children. On an evening like any other while my family was getting ready for bed, I walked through the house locking up. I turned the lights out in the living room, but noticed a dark spot the size of my palm on the carpet. I almost – almost – reached down to touch it, but a bell went off in my subconscious warning me not to. I turned on the light and staring back at me was a black hairy tarantula!

“Oh, Shit!” I screamed, backing up slowly.

“Uh, oh! A spider found mom!” My husband, Matt, said to our daughter and son, who thankfully, didn’t share my fear. But he silently questioned the kind of spider that would cause me to shriek. This scenario sounded different.

After I managed to widen the space between the tarantula and me, my feet felt like cement blocks. Fear crept into my veins like a drug. I had never seen a tarantula up close, although I was thankful it stayed put. It didn’t budge. It was not afraid of me. What a fiasco if the tarantula had run! If it had, I would’ve run too! Heebie-jeebies creep up my arms imagining the leggy intruder finding comfort beneath the sofas (that I would never sit on again!).

Matt was taken back when he joined me in the living room and was surprised that I hadn’t passed out! My daughter had instituted the trend of saving spiders with a glass and a paper plate. So, by grabbing those two items, Matt scooped up the uninvited guest while I held the door. Per my request, he walked far enough away from the house before setting the big guy free in the yard. No tarantula was killed in the telling of this event. Our front door had been open earlier in the evening with the screen door closed. Spiders can maneuver through any cracks, but how that tarantula the size of my palm squeezed through baffles me to this day!

A few weeks after Matt had introduced “Harry” to his outdoor residence, my phobia eventually quieted down. Until recently when I sat at the kitchen table typing on my laptop. I noticed a spider crawling over the top of the screen. You have got to be kidding me! It was the color of vanilla and appeared like out of a horror flick, magnified by the white backdrop, growing to an enormous size – my skewed perception! Each leg made its way over the top! Since Matt was home, I yelled for his help. He grabbed the spider-saving tools but was too slow for the speedy spider who was off to the races! So, Matt lobbed the glass to me like we had teamed up for an egg toss! “Oh no, I missed him, too!”

“Hon, it’s just a spider,”Matt said with a smile and a pinch of courage. He knew Harry’s ugly image had been engrained in my mind, and no matter how much effort I exerted, it was stuck there forever. So, I couldn’t believe my ears, just a spider, but I knew he was teasing.

As it happened, this spider was faster than lightning!

“He’s on the floor…hand me the glass!”Matt tried again. “Ahh, now I can’t see him; he blends into the tile.”

“It’s time for the vacuum then; I’m so sorry,” I said out loud. When I finished pushing the vacuum back and forth, relief washed over me because I assumed the spider had been swallowed into oblivion. Then guilt followed because we tried to save the creepy creatures. My emotions were mixed! I sat down at the table again, but not before examining my laptop with eagle eyes to ensure no more spiders needed screen time!

Five minutes later, I saw the spider again!

“Oh my gosh, Honey, he’s following me!”

“Who’s following you?”

“Who do you think is following me?!”

I ignored Matt’s razzing, but a chuckle managed to escape anyway. I grabbed the glass but missed the spider again. Good thing we weren’t on a baseball team! The spider certainly had an agenda – still racing to an unknown destination and much faster than us. My eyes stayed focused on the little fellow as it headed for the living room. He must be having the time of his life – the furniture would be a stellar playground!

“Just watch, I’ll find him on my chair in the morning,” I said.

“Could be. Should I make a bigger pot of coffee?” Matt replied, as he hid behind a grin.

After all the commotion, I had survived because we didn’t see the eight-legged visitor again, and extra coffee wasn’t needed in the morning.

However, I admit and without apology that I don’t step into the shower before peeking behind the curtain first. Overcoming this fear most likely won’t happen. But if I can save a spider, and manage to hang onto the glass while it skitters around, then make my way to the door to give it freedom, that’s progress. Amazing progress! Once outside, I gently lay the glass down and with leg synchronicity, the spider crawls out heading to the roses and lantana, making us both sigh with relief.

Neither of my thumbs have ever been green for the garden, and the last thing I wanted to do was deliberately put my hands in a spider’s haven. Nowadays though, I’m in tune with the blooms, so I don’t worry about the creepy-crawlies when I’m offering the blooms a drink. Fear doesn’t have the firm grip that it had in years past.

But have I conquered arachnophobia one hundred percent? No, but I realize this phobia doesn’t prey only on me. Knowing I’m not alone while learning to exist with arachnids, that some are good for gardens, and acknowledging that they’re not out to get me is a work-in-progress. I’ve come a long way since that evening at the cabin when Dad saved my life. Maybe his reaction incited fear. Yet, if the spider had begun its ascent onto my leg, fear would’ve hurled into full force anyway!

And so I wonder, had the spiders been laughing at me when their presence whirled me into a frenzy? My intentions were always good. I simply didn’t want to be roommates. Laughing with me would’ve been perfectly welcomed.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

© Lauren Scott, Baydreamerwrites.com – All rights reserved.
Cute spider photo found on the web.

Thank you for stopping by, and for taking the time to read this lengthy story.
Enjoy your weekend! ❤️

My latest collection of poetry, touching on nature, love, and the mysteries of life
that would make a great for any holiday! Click on the image for your copy. Thank you! 💚

Leora’s Letters by Joy Neal Kidney – Book Review

On April 6, 2024April 6, 2024 By Lauren Scott, AuthorIn Non-fiction, Personal Stories47 Comments

As I began reading Leora’s Letters, the story of The Wilson Family by Joy Neal Kidney, it didn’t take me long to feel moved by the love, faith, and perseverance in this remarkable family. The tale begins with Leora and Clabe who were farmers in Perry, Iowa during WWII, but their story unfolded when one by one, their five sons enlisted, wanting to serve their country. During this period, the family stayed in touch by old fashioned letter writing initiated by Leora, and I felt honored to read the letters that were evidence of their solid family connection. But the intense silence was palpable during the times when Leora and Clabe waited for their sons to reply. I can only imagine the emotional turmoil.

The letters also reminded me of my parents’ story that commenced during WWII. They were engaged in 1942, then my dad was sent overseas. Handwritten letters were the glue that kept them connected for three years before Dad was honorably discharged in 1945. They were married soon after he arrived home. Theirs was a love that was everlasting, and February 24, 2012 would have been their sixty-seventh anniversary, but mom passed away on February 2^nd. However, if not for the letters floating back and forth, their story may not have been written. So, there is something exceptional to be noted about old fashioned letter writing, but unfortunately, this intimate gesture has faded with conveniences of technology.

Leora’s Letters may be a personal diary of The Wilson’s, but it also serves as history, reminding us that those who sacrificed their lives in war should not be forgotten. I knew the premise before I started the book, but I wasn’t aware of the details. As I continued from one chapter to the next, I sensed a dreadful anticipation. As a parent, I can’t fathom how Leora and Clabe felt, not knowing the whereabouts or wellbeing of their sons. I became teary-eyed as the story progressed, and at one point, I considered putting the book down for good. The heartache was overwhelming. Though the sorrow never subsided, I’m glad that I made it to the end.

Joy is the daughter of Doris Wilson Neal and the oldest granddaughter of Leora and Clabe’s. She is the keeper of her family’s history, so through intensive research, she beautifully crafted this book with the help of Robin Grunder. I commend Joy and Robin for such a well written and moving account. And I am still moved by Leora’s strength and courage to greet each new day for decades later despite the magnitude of loss she endured. I highly recommend this book because it profoundly touches on love, family, resilience, faith, loss, and the desire to move forward.

_____________________________________________________________________________

I pulled this information from Joy’s blog, and I encourage you to visit her, allowing yourself to be swept up into the rich history that she shares.

Leora’s Letters: The Story of Love and Loss for an Iowa Family During World War II tells the story of the five Wilson brothers who are remembered on the Dallas County Freedom Rock® at Minburn, Iowa. Leora was their mother–Joy’s delightful grandmother.

Navymen Donald and Delbert Wilson. Pilots Dale, Danny, and Junior Wilson.

Joy the photobomber, so this was the day of the dedication, October 2019.

Joy has written many books on her family history, and they are available from Amazon.com in paperback, hardback, and ebook. Leora’s Dexter Stories and Leora’s Early Years are also in audio form, with “virtual voice.” I look forward to reading the rest of the series.

As always, thank you for stopping by,
and I hope you’ll click on the image above
to receive your copy of this most touching book.
And please visit Joy if you haven’t had the pleasure
of meeting her, yet. ❤️

Breadth of Understanding…

On December 1, 2023December 1, 2023 By Lauren Scott, AuthorIn Family, Personal Stories87 Comments

Dear Family and Friends,

Ever since my father-in-law’s passing on October 31st, my husband has been sorting through his dad’s belongings. A job only he can do to know what should be kept. His dad was very organized, not only with important documents, but also with precious keepsakes. One item that my hubby found was a recipe card written by his mom, Mable, in the mid 50s to her son, Wil, who she called Billy. A card that offered sage advice for living a good life.

In case the card is hard to read:

First thing in A.M. drink 1 pint which is two cups of hot water every morning. It is more necessary than washing your face.
Later drink a glass of fruit juice.
Eat something ‘alive’ not cooked each day. Celery or apples, or oranges, or grapes. Eat them while they are on the market and in good shape. “Life makes life”, eat them fresh and alive, all the fruits that you can. “Cooked or canned are dead and cannot make you a live body.”
Cut the sandwiches out if at all possible. A couple of bananas and a pound of grapes with an apple or orange will hold you for a long time.
Drink more and more water! The body needs it just as much if not more than too much food.
Don’t forget your twisting exercises and the ‘Stand at Attention’ exercise to strengthen your muscles. You don’t want to be a hnch back at 40, so stand straight and tall. Get on the bars and swing every chance you get.
How is golf? Better get going before Phil (his brother) writes for his clubs! “Make hay while the sun shines!”
Please carry this card where you will read it once at least – once a day – until you do what it says to do!
Happy Days to you, MEMS (her loving acronym).

**Mable at 85 with her sons (my FIL on the right).**

Wil carried this advice from his mother each day, and he knew that she didn’t write the card to preach. But she was a woman born in 1889, and her intellect was beyond her years. She was intelligent, independent, believed in Astrology, an independent health care worker who believed in taking care of our bodies and minds. She advocated for eating right and nurturing mental health. She may have been delicate and petite, but she was strong in character and mind. She lived to be 90!

We found special letters Mable wrote to Billy, along with this special card. And we know there will be more to come. Treasures to keep those wonderful memories company. My hubby was lucky to know all of his grandparents, except for his dad’s dad who passed away when his dad was very young. I only knew my dad’s mom, and even then, I was young when she passed, so my memories are vague. We’re grateful that our daughter and son had the chance to spend time with their grandparents, except again, with my hubby’s mom who passed away before they were born.

Conversations with our parents who have lived, experienced, and endured so much brought knowledge and a breadth of understanding.

I’ll end with her profound words again, “Life makes life – cooked or canned are dead and cannot make you a live body.”

As we enter into the holiday season where treats are abundant, remember Mable’s words. Wil used to also say, “Everything in moderation and always keep moving.”
She lived to be 90, and He lived to be 100, so there must be truth to these words!

Happy December!
~Lauren ❤️

*Click on the image to purchase your copy.* 💚

Until that time…

On November 1, 2023 By Lauren Scott, AuthorIn Personal Stories105 Comments

Whenever we’d say goodbye, he’d say, “Until that time…”

The call came at 2:16 am in the wee hours of Halloween. Our beloved dad and father-in-law took his last breath at 2:05. After being on hospice for three months, his body slowly declining, the suffering lingered.

Until that time when it was the right time for him…when his soul ascended to join the other spirits of Allhallows Eve.

He lived to be 100 years old! And he was a great man with a gentle heart. As much as the tears will come, we are comforted knowing that he is at peace and no longer in need of morphine. There is a whole host of family where he’s headed now, so he will be welcomed with open arms and reunited with loved ones who have been missed.

So, we are going to allow the feelings of sadness and grief to be felt. We will find comfort in precious memories. But most importantly, we will honor and celebrate this wonderful man who lived for over a century.

Our daughter and son visiting Grandpa in March of 2019.

I remember a poem that is written by my lovely friend, Selma Martin. It’s one of many that stood out from her beautiful poetry book, In the Shadow of Rainbows. After reading her words again, out loud for my husband to hear, we both agreed that this poem is perfect for his dad:

When Death Comes

When death comes
I don’t want to look back
lovelorn, empty, frightened
– Oh, no!
When death comes
I want to be led into eternity
curious, full of joy
knowing the world I leave
is better for the love I gave.

These words are my father-in-law. He was loving, nonjudgemental, a social butterfly, and his heart was full of joy! His life was not devoid of heartache and loss, but he always moved forward in the direction the silver lining guided him.

Thank you, Selma, for this profound poem that resonates with our family at this time. 🙏🏻

Thank you, Dad, for the love you gave. We were fortunate to have you as our father. You will always be in our hearts. ❤️

Until that time…when we will meet again…we love you! ❤️

July 5 – Journal Entry

On July 5, 2023 By Lauren Scott, AuthorIn Personal Stories152 Comments

Dear Family and Friends,

What I’m posting today is not something I normally share. Maybe some will think this isn’t a good idea. There is no poem or fiction story. I’m sharing something personal but definitely not for sympathy. More for a cathartic purpose, a release, and maybe, hopefully, one of you will be able to shed some light for me. This is kind of long, so I understand if you don’t have time to read. But if you do, and you have knowledge of what I’m talking about, I’d be grateful to read your comments. By the way, I may regret posting this, so it could end up deleted.

Dear Journal,

They say that writing is therapeutic, so here goes…

Over two months ago, I started experiencing a lightning bolt jolt of pain through my right heel. The pain came in spurts, any time, any level of pain, and any frequency. They’d last only for seconds. Some jolts were mild, some were moderate, but one Thursday, the jolts began with my morning coffee around 5:30 am and continued throughout the day until around 1:30 pm when they finally mellowed. They came in series of 7 or 8 jolts every twenty minutes or so, Boom! Boom! Boom! One after the other with the intensity I have never felt before until this day. The jolts were debilitating. I stayed home from work, and admittedly, I was in tears and my nerves were on edge. I tried to stay calm, but calm was difficult to attain. I began to anticipate the jolts, which paralyzed me from doing anything, reading, writing, even blogging. The degree of this level of heel pain was new, so I emailed my doctor, and she ordered x-rays.

I had to get these x-rays done on this day when the jolts were at their strongest degree of pain, which honestly, felt like an 11! But I was afraid to drive because with this pain being in my right foot, my accelerating and braking foot, I feared a strong jolt would occur while driving, causing me to have a knee-jerk reaction, and who knows what would happen. So, my husband took me to get x-rays. The next day, my doctor said that the results indicated a heel bursa. I didn’t think so. Years ago, I had an irritated bursa in my hip, which went away over time, and this felt more ‘nervy.’ And her assumption didn’t even match the medical results I read on my medical online account that I couldn’t quite decode. She referred me to a podiatry specialist.

My podiatrist said that it wasn’t a bursa, and after tapping my heel and listening to my symptoms, here’s what he said, “I really don’t know what this is.” It’s not Planter Fasciitis or Neuropathy. I was praying for a diagnosis, cause, and treatment, so these words were beyond disheartening. By this time, I had been wearing Hoka tennis shoes and heel cups (never heard of them before) for a few weeks, creating more support for my foot. He said to continue wearing them, rest, and ice, but he was going to refer me to neurology to have my nerves tested. When he described the process for that, I almost passed out. By the way, am I the first person to tell him about this kind of heel pain? I find that hard to believe. How could he not have any idea?

Then after hearing my case, neurology told him that it wasn’t necessary for me to have a consultation with them. My podiatrist labeled my condition as Baxters Neuritis and prescribed Gabapentin to mitigate the pain and to be taken each night, low dosage. A tiny part of me thinks he’s reaching for a label to appease me because when I Googled Baxters Neuritis (of course, I did), the symptoms didn’t align with mine. Maybe cases vary, I don’t know.

So, fast forward three weeks, and I’ve been living in Hokas (now have 3 pair: white, black, and bright blue), except for sleeping and showering. Luckily, I’ve had several pain-free or I should say, jolt-free days, and 1 jolt on other days. None at night, so I’ve been able to sleep. Because the intense pain never visited again, I have not taken the meds. I’ll take them if I need them. The lessening pain has me feeling hopeful.

With all this said, I know most of us deal with some kind of pain. Pain that will fade over time, heal with Motrin or other meds. Some people are handed a life and death diagnosis. This is not life or death. But because it’s nerve related, it may be chronic, and because it’s in my foot, it impacts my ability to walk Copper, our lab, to walk for exercise, and simply to walk from the front door to my car, or at work, or from my car to the grocery store, let alone through the store.

This random, bizarre, unpredictable pain impacts my life with my husband, our love for hiking and backpacking. We have a trip planned in August, in six weeks. If you asked me today if I could do it, I’d say no, because I’m limiting time on my feet to hopefully rest the nerve, and dare I say, heal? I can’t even walk around the block, and I don’t know if this will ever heal. And this thought breaks my heart because I feel like I’m breaking my husband’s heart. Now in our early sixties, we want to hike and backpack for as long as we can. And if we had to stop now, it wouldn’t be the end of the world. We could still camp. I can function – the bright side. And of course, he doesn’t see it as me breaking his heart. He feels helpless when I’m in pain, and since my tolerance is pretty high, he knows when I’m truly hurting. Of course, he’d be disappointed if we couldn’t hike or backpack again, but he cares about me first and foremost. Just so you know. But I look at the big picture and feel like a burden. I really do. I’m aware of my foot every day, sounds funny, doesn’t it? But really, I’m babying it, handling that nerve with kid gloves.

Yesterday, July 4^th, was an anomaly. I had three series of jolts throughout the day. I analyzed and asked, “Why?” I’m wearing good shoes, walking less, icing, resting…but I am living, so I am walking, just not as much. I’m not sitting on my butt. I’m still working, and I’ve walked Copper, but the walks have been truncated. Fortunately, he’s older now, so he’s just happy to get out and sniff and pee. But just when I was feeling hopeful, I felt like I took five steps backward yesterday.

Anyway, I’ve tried to keep a positive mindset. On the pain-free days, I am grateful. And when just one jolt comes and it’s mild, I am grateful. But it’s not only the intense pain that is paralyzing, it’s the “Why?” when I’ve been doing everything I should be doing. And then, it’s the anticipating for another jolt to follow, until I do some deep breathing and move on with whatever I’m doing at the time.

Miracles happen, right? Well, I’m also realistic. And this isn’t life and death, but even though it’s not, it’s impactful to me, to my husband, to my dog, and to my future. Our feet are necessary for everyday tasks. If it sounds like I’m whining, please forgive me. Please understand whining about poor me is not my intention. Writing about this is therapy. I’m not one to complain, and I’m compassionate for those in worse, worse, situations. But this is my new pain, my new change, and that shouldn’t be negated either. I continue to take one day at a time, pray for a pain-free day, and deep breathe when necessary, and hope for a miracle. But if that miracle isn’t meant to be, then I’ll have to modify my activities. My husband and I will have to make changes. I just bought an exercise bike (cheaper than a pool because swimming is good exercise), so hubby and I will set that up this week. An option. Moving forward. The only option is to move forward.

Thank you for stopping by. Thank you for reading if you had the time. This is raw writing, no editing, so if you see mistakes, please forgive those, too.
With love, Lauren ❤️

A Text in Seconds

On July 31, 2022July 31, 2022 By Lauren Scott, AuthorIn Personal Stories35 Comments

My thoughts on Sunday, April 25^th, 2021…

Dear Mom, I know you’re listening from above, so I need you to know that I’m sorry for moving in and out of the house so many times, for putting you through that emotional turmoil. Although, I couldn’t have known back then what you were feeling, but I understand now. I realize how much your heart ached. The emptiness, the thought of your youngest leaving the nest. The strong wish to protect and keep me safe. I’m walking in those shoes now, dealing with the discomfort, and honestly, it’s not a trip to Disneyland. But I know in time, the discomfort will lessen. I don’t think it will ever disappear for good, but I know I’ll feel more at peace as the calendar pages flip.

Those were the days when my parent’s door was revolving – when I strived to find my way into the vast world outside of their home. Today, our youngest, our son, left home for the first time. Not for college, not for his internship, but for a taste of independence. The caveat is that his apartment is across the country. He’ll live closer to our daughter and son-in-law who also live on the east coast. And while this fact brings joy, I still wish their paths could have been paved on the west. Maybe someday. Or maybe, we’ll uproot and head east. The future remains a giant neon question mark.

The weekend prior to his leaving was spent with the three of us, my husband, him, and I celebrating this new adventure, as well as ours as empty nesters. Great food and wine, nostalgic conversation that at times provoked tears. Then today came. We knew it was inevitable. The day that he would begin his drive across country alone. Fortunately, his first day of driving would only be four hours, so he didn’t have to leave early in the morning. This gave him time to relax, to take one more look around the house and make sure he packed everything he needed, and to walk our dog with me one last time. He has never liked being in photos, but since this occasion rings differently in that he’s moving away, he conceded to selfies of the both of us once we reached the top of the hill, along with photos of him and his lab.

Then just as he was about to start his car for the first leg of his journey, we took selfies of the three of us: mom, dad, son. Smiles, funny expressions, all concealing the tears of what was about to come, the hugs and the “see you later.” Talk about emotions! But we got through it, and then we watched him back out of the driveway and wave to us as he rolled down the street, embarking on this exciting journey. My husband and I let the tears flow in the drama of the moment.

The pros of technology come in handy when our son can send a text in seconds, telling us that he arrived safely. Those few words including “love you all” with a heart emoji allows us to breathe again. That was his first drive. Day One. He’ll have six days of driving across country where the seventh will be the day he is handed his new apartment keys. A moment of joy, celebration, adult independence, but also nostalgia, knowing he’ll miss us, his dog, and his childhood home. It was tough for our Labrador because his doggie brain doesn’t understand the words his brother says to him. Giving those last hugs to his chocolate lab tugged at the heart. If only our beloved pets could speak our language. During the day, our lovable lab meandered into our son’s room. I have no doubt, he not only sensed his brother’s absence, but he sensed something had changed today. As smart as our furry family member can be, I’m sure he felt the profoundness of it all.

The quiet in the house is LOUD, but we know with time, the volume will soften into a sense of normalcy. Walking into his bedroom, the bare walls and empty shelves incite a wave of emotions that hit me like a tsunami. As we anticipated the day he would leave, we selfishly begged for time to slow down. Now, moving through the week to day 5, he is on his way to visit his sister and brother-in-law. We are thrilled that our kids will get a chance to visit. But we also wish for time to speed up, for him to safely arrive at his new home, the final stop on the road trip.

Two more days to go. I have never felt such an affinity for my cell phone before as I wait for his text messages to ping each evening. The tears flow less frequently now that he is over the hump of the week, but they’re still very much present, finding their freedom every now and then. They fall out of joy, from missing him, and from unleashing the tenacious worry. I feel as if I’m holding my breath while he continues to blaze through the many state lines. I’ll be able to exhale once he arrives and embraces those keys in his hand.

On the opposite side of the emotional spectrum, we are so proud of him, so excited for him to walk through the door of this new chapter. It’s what we’ve always wanted but knowing the moment of him leaving home would render tears and emptiness, too.

Eventually, my husband and I will embrace this empty nest for the precious gift it is to us now as a couple, and for what it means regarding our children – a gift from them as they are able to live life to the fullest in their adult years. We will find our new rhythm through the new empty nest chapter in our family story. And we couldn’t be more excited to make memories in their new homes. Let the journey continue!

I posted about this soon after he moved out, but It’s been over a year now. He’s settled into his new life and so have we. Between flights, phone calls, and texts, we stay connected. Yes, we miss him as much as we miss our daughter, but the silver lining is that they’re living their lives, spreading their wings, the natural progression of life. We couldn’t be prouder.

Lauren Scott © ❤️
If you can relate to this scene,
the “see you later”, the emotions,
and new life chapter,
I’d love to hear about it.