For weeks, I've watched a little girl with lopsided pigtails come to ballet class. She wears a tiny white leotard and tights that sag on her small, 4 year old frame. Before each class, she says a tearful goodbye to her mother at the door and makes her way to the wooden barre. Although distraught at the separation, she remains absolutely obedient to the instructions of the teacher. Through weepy eyes, she skips across the floor, all while clutching a wadded up tissue in her fist. When her eyes become too misty, she dabs them while marching in rhythm to the music of The Nutcracker. Occasionally, an audible sob emerges, but she never strays from performing each exercise perfectly. Last week, the familiar scene unfolded with a slight change. Instead of a kiss goodbye, her mother stepped into the classroom holding a brightly colored dog.  "Now, where should we put Stuffy?" her mother asked. "Right here by the piano, so he can watch over you?" The little girl silent...

There is a mysterious and rare flower called the Queen of the Night. It is a species of cactus that requires year round care and attention in order to be brought to it's magnificent bloom.  If properly cared for, the Queen of the Night will live up to its name. One single night out of the year, it will slowly open, layer after layer, until fully bloomed. The flower emits a strange and glorious fragrance unlike any other. And in just a few hours, it will wilt, not to be seen again for another 364 nights. This Queen of the Night bloomed at Thomas Edison's Greenhouse 2 nights ago. The photos were taken by my husband, Eddie, one of only two people to witness this rarity. "A rare experience of a moment at daybreak, when something in nature seems to reveal all consciousness, cannot be explained at noon. Yet it is part of the day's unity." -Charles Ives "It isn't given for us to know those rare moments when people are wide open and the lightest touch can w...

When I was a little girl, I had a cherished stuffed dog who I imagined could fly with his brown, floppy ears. One day, I was at a department store with my mother and mistakenly left the dog in a dressing room. Of course, neither of us realized it until after we left the store. At home, I waited panic stricken, as my mother made phone calls to the Lost and Found, and several store managers. I never saw my little dog again, but I imagined that he found his way to the toy section, and lived there happily with new friends. There was another childhood friend of mine, a stuffed bear named Theodore. He had the most compelling black eyes and pudgy tummy. If ever a stuffed animal was "real," Theodore was. But whoever created my little bear, made a terrible and seemingly permanent mistake. The black line of his mouth was sewn into a frown. No matter what I did, tea parties, outdoor picnics, a doll house mansion, Theodore would never be happy. It broke my heart so much, I asked my gra...

One rainy day, stuck indoors with a million things on my to-do list piling up, I notice I have a voice mail on my phone. With no number showing up in the history, I dread who it could be. Work asking me to come in tonight. Eddie calling to say he has to stay late. The talent-booking guy canceling my gig that I've been looking forward to for a month. I suddenly realize my own pessimism, justifying it with, "It's just been one of those days today." I dial my voicemail, expecting the worst when instead, I hear a kind, warm voice through the ear piece,  "Hello cutie!" She brimmed with congenial energy and quivered slightly, her voice worn with age. "Do you want to go with me to the Opera Luncheon at the Coronado Country Club on Saturday? I'll be home all day, so let me know. Love you! Bye!" Her voice was so familiar, so welcoming and cheerful. I'm touched by her lively and sincere invitation and for a moment, I'm disappointed that I have t...

I got another life lesson while running the other day. Hills. They can either kill your morale, or light a fire under you. I might not be the fastest or strongest runner, but I don't often let a hill get the best of me. Yet I've felt myself slowing down in other ways lately. There are so many obstacles in my path. Haven't I worked and sweat enough? I've become accustomed to the comfortable pace of 2 steady piano jobs (which I'm  more  than grateful for), but my original goal when moving here, was to song write and record. A process which is proving to be more time consuming and complicated than I would have ever imagined. Just when I think I see the finish line, another hill arises in my path.  That's when I'm reminded of the old saying (and excuse the cliche) it's not the destination, but the journey that's important. And so with each step, I admire the view around me and appreciate more than ever those miles stones that I pass along the way.  Ch...

I opened the glass door of the retail store and walked inside, eyes immediately drawn to the mannequins donning outfits I could never pull off. Yet I couldn't keep my fingers from running over the fabrics displayed on racks that were laid out, row after row around me. Months of penny pinching and shopping-deprivation made me like a hungry child in a bakery. My arms were full of clothes in mere moments. A sales clerk politely offered her assistance and asked my name.  "Elizabeth," I told her. "I'm Willie," She replied with a slight southern accent, cheerfully as if we were about to become best friends. She was an older black woman who I noticed was just as attentive to all the customers in her section. Animated and friendly, Willie drew my complete attention as she continued, "Elizabeth, I can remember that. That's my sister's middle name. Her first name is Mary," she explained. Before I could help it, I told her that my first name was actu...

"Go on with your normal day." That's what we were told to do on this 10th anniversary of 9/11.  So I went for a run, practiced the piano, and cleaned the kitchen. I went to the grocery store, took a nap, and did laundry.  I walked to and from the laundry room, white basket balanced on my hip, held steady with my right arm. And with every airplane that flew overhead, I couldn't help but look up. I did my best to suppress the paranoia that no doubt crept over the majority of New Jersey and New York. Neck craned and imagination running wild, I followed the jet soaring above that was no larger than a dot in the sky. It glided from one horizon to the other, momentarily being eclipsed by a tree branch that arched overhead. It was then I noticed a birds nest I'd never before seen, tucked firmly within the sturdy limbs of the mighty tree. I wondered what birds had hatched and lived within the woven walls of twigs and leaves. "They're safe up there," I thoug...