Diary of Not a Wimpy Widow

Month: November 2023

  • Live Slowly, Move Simply, Look Softly

    My house sitter Marcie knows how to relish and savor my home on the hill, perhaps better than I do, because I always have a long list of jobs I must do. I look around the garden and see all the weeds I must pull. Marcie who also is a gardener looks and sees the flowers.

    In the mornings when Marcie is at my house, she likes to take her mug of freshly brewed coffee outside to sit on the wooden bench under the maple tree. Kali my old dog is still inside, asleep and snoring. From the bench Marcie can see all the birds who flock to the feeders: the cardinals in the bright coats, the chickadees who bob through the air, and the tufted titmice who wait on the branches. Sometimes the bluebird darts inside its special feeder for its treat of dried mealworms, and the downy woodpecker taps at the suet feeder. On the rough bark of the maple the white breasted nuthatch hops headfirst down the trunk, seeking insects. 

    The world is filled with jubilant birdsong. Under the feeders the gray squirrels and chipmunks compete for fallen seeds. One morning Marcie was sitting so silently that the red fox who has a den by the fence came to the feeder for fallen seeds. It sensed Marcie’s presence, raised its head, and looked directly into her eyes before it turned and ran.

    I think I must take my own mug of coffee and sit on the bench under the maple tree and open myself to the quiet morning.

    Kristin Moyer

    Written September 2013–posting November 2023

  • Gratitude 2023

    November 8, 2023

she swabs my shoulder briskly
and I look away as the needle sinks in

recalling my gratitude for that first Covid shot 
and then the second one
that released me into daylight and hugs

today is my seventh Covid shot

pushing my shirtsleeve down
walking into the sunshine of my world
on this bright November day

now missing 1,136,920 of my people due to Covid-19 
less we forget

no taps will be played 
remember them

 Kristin Moyer

  • Ritual of Candle Lighting: Joys and Sorrows

    November 5, 2023

Lining up in silence while the music plays

Holding the taper to the small candle in the sand

Silent with joy or sorrow, intent on the job and the moment

All woven fine

And the tiny flame catches and glows

And the candle passes down the ranks of the waiting

To the old

To the young

To men

To women

To those of no gender at all

To white, to black, to colors in between

From hand to waiting hand

Sometimes with a smile

Sometimes somberly

But the flame passes

From hand to hand


Kristin Moyer

  • Sweden

    June, 2023

    I am sitting in the car which my cousin Kristina is driving along the highway, through the fields and woods of Vestergotland, near the shores of the great Lake Vanern.

    I am looking out the car window at the landscape where my grandmother was born, and my great-grandmother, and her mother.

    And then I am suffused with a sense of peace…I breathe in and out, not saying a word. 

    It is as though my eyes are absorbing the landscape and then transmitting the view to all the cells in my body, down to the mitochondria beating out energy, these cells inherited from my mother, and in turn inherited from her mother, and through all the women in my maternal line. 

    This great peace fills every part of my body. I feel my heart beat slowing. 

    It is a though my body has recognized this land, and every cell within me is saying

    “You are home.”

    It is like nothing I have ever felt before. And the moment passes, and we drive on. 

    Kristin Moyer