A Woman’s Life…

A gentleman once turned to me at a party and said offhandedly, “You’re a civilized tigress.” I’m not sure what prompted the remark. But I liked it. Not a cougar, not a kitten…

And I thought to myself, ok Mom…

My mother had once looked at me a bit apprehensively and lowered her head, trying to conceal the slight smile turning up the corners of her mouth. I wondered what had bemused her in that moment. Lifting her eyes she simply said, “I knitted a tiger.” I might’ve replied, “The apple didn’t fall far from the tree.”

My mother was a wild child, my wild child to be exact…Our roles had flip-flopped in the pre-dawn hours of a mid-August day in 1984. I was 31 and she was 57. She had a massive heart attack and in the space of a breath (though we had yet to comprehend it) we each took on the mantle of the other. I ¬†would begin to learn just how gentle and fierce I could be.

This is a blog about the art of surviving the role of the “good daughter” in a matriarchal lineage that was as destructive as it was intensely loving. ¬†And how I found myself in a late second bloom, far after “my meridian had passed” as Emily Dickinson would say.

It is also an ongoing exploration into consciously designing and embracing an artful, elegant, sexy and spirited life, with a good portion of unadulterated, irreverent fun in the midst of our infinitely and rapidly changing, messy world. Yet a life in which reserve balances spontaneity, kindness trumps the quick retort and quiet power is given its place at the table.

Come along with me, if you will…

Love,

~Deborah