HAPPY NEW BIKE MONTH!🎄
Personal Reflection 📝
As I write this, it's my terrific friend Gerry's birthday. 🎂 Happy Birthday, my friend! 🎉
December was, for me, New Bike Month! I finally succumbed to getting a fatbike for more fun and versatile winter riding. My wonderful friends at Now Bikes set me up with a Salsa Mukluk. 💜
After our first single track ride at Elm Creek
Though we haven't had much snow (😕), I went for a singletrack group ride at Elm Creek with the folks from Now this month. It was a two-hour invigorating and twice-painful challenge. I took my new GoPro along for my inaugural ride and have a snippet for your viewing pleasure, including a still shot of the camera in the snow during one of the two spills I took. 🤣
Speaking of my GoPro, I bought it to capture the progress of my grandson, Nils, in his swimming lessons since I'm the only one witnessing his new skills.
Joey and Nils helped decorate cookies again, and we added gingerbread houses to the fun this year. Joey was the home-building designer, engineer, and builder, while Matt and I designed and created the landscaping.
We celebrated Christmas and my birthday at home for a Christmas brunch with way too many tasty treats. Next year, we'll need fewer cookies! I tried a new birthday cake recipe but was disappointed with my efforts. It was a mint chocolate cake, a combination I love and a challenge, but not quite what I hoped for (baker's error!). I've got other recipes in mind that I probably won't wait a year to try, like this grasshopper brownies recipe.
On Grief
I saw Nicholas recently. Of course, I didn't, but this is how grief goes.
While running errands, I walked into the library to acquire the umteenth library card of my lifetime and saw my son behind the counter. No one else would have seen Nicholas there, but it was him.
I was transfixed and trying not to stare as this pleasant young person helped me (of course, they were young; Nicholas is forever 18 years old to me). I can't tell you exactly what it was—the hair was not Nicholas's hair color, and the style was not his. Maybe it was the eyes or how they looked at me—knowing. Perhaps it was in their demeanor as they trained a new colleague on issuing a library card.
Then I saw their hand as they moved the mouse—it was Nicholas's hand. Specifically, I saw his stitched too tightly pinky crushed under a television when he was two. I stared at the hand and tried to find reality, to verify that I was seeing things, but I could not find evidence that it wasn't Nicholas moving the mouse. I am sure it was Nicholas' singularly unique hand.
Completing the transaction in slow motion, I looked from Nicholas's hand back to the eyes, wishing I could stay in this moment with this person who was my son incarnate. But that would be creepy, so I left.
I immediately called Joey, the freshness of Nicholas' presence in my cells, and relayed what I experienced. I longed to go back inside the library, feel Nicholas there, or put whatever happened to rest and return to reality. But I did not.
As I write this, I still see Nicholas' hand. As sure as I see the Christmas tree before me, I see his hand and know there's more to life than meets the eye.
What's next?
As I mentioned in the last newsletter, we've embarked on a restoration project at home—updating the boys' bedroom (which was a bit of a disaster after 15 years of young male occupation). Here's a photo of Nicholas in the room after proudly cleaning it.
September 19, 2015
One as we prepare the room for patching and painting. And one with primer and one of two new coats of paint.
There's much more to do, but hopefully, next month's recap will include photos of a room in less disarray. 🤞🏽
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Wishing everyone a Happy New Year! 🥳
News & Achievements 🎉
Independent Press Award, February 2024
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Final (no truer) Words
Saint Paul gas station sign; 2012.
Thank you for being a part of this transformative journey.
Your support and trust mean the world.
Holly Margl is the award-winning author of Witnessing Grief: Inviting Trauma and Loss to Our Coaching Conversations, An Enneagram Perspective. Holly is an ICF Master Certified Coach, an IEA Accredited Professional, and an Advanced Certified Mentor Coach specializing in grief, loss, and the Enneagram.
Witnessing Grief: Inviting Trauma and Loss to Our Coaching Conversations,
An Enneagram Perspective
Holly Margl, MCC, IEA Accredited Professional
Published August 30, 2022: The Compassionate Mind Collaborative
ISBN: 978-1737200673; $19.99
1946 St. Clair Avenue
Saint Paul, Minnesota 55105 USA