By Carol J. Wechsler Blatter

Sometimes I have an empty feeling when I wake up—feeling in no place. I’m taking up space.

Always when I walk each morning these feelings fade, seeing everything here in the Sonoran desert enveloped in green, and seeing a ring of tiny yellow flowers atop the barrel cactus, and seeing the Mesquite tree with its airy leaves, and seeing Arizona’s state Palo Verde tree with its green bark and its golden flowers appearing in late spring, and seeing the bird families crossing the road, mother in front, father in back leading their pack to safety, and seeing a rabbit scurrying to find cool shelter, all are uplifting.

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Sometimes, well, often, I wish I were in the body that I had for all of my life before three spinal vertebrae fractures were recently repaired. It isn’t easy to stand up straight. I’m mega compressed. My breasts, diaphragm, and belly are squeezed together. Sometimes pain results. And I’m five inches shorter; I was already short.

Sometimes negative thoughts clutter my headspace. 

Sometimes I wish I had more self-confidence. Like when I could stand up straight before the vertebrae were repaired and didn’t look or feel like an old woman. Seeing myself in the mirror is discouraging and disheartening. I should stop looking. Or cover the mirrors (not too realistic) like an Orthodox custom of covering them during shiva, the seven-day mourning period after the death of a Jewish person.

Always good thoughts are harder to retrieve.  

Sometimes my husband says just the right thing. He says I look fine. I’m pretty. And he reminds me I’m still me, the same me I have always been.

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Sometimes there are spaces of silence. 

During their visit, our daughter and son-in-law sat on the living room sofa, reading on their respective phones. Our granddaughter was on her iPad in the guest room. My husband was on the computer in his office. It was quiet. It was still. There was no place for me.

Always I’ve wished for more closeness with our daughter. Happily, we hugged and kissed before she, her husband, and our granddaughter left for home. 

I got a text, “Thanks for having us,” as they boarded the plane. 

A sweet ending. 

Always I’ve wished for more closeness with our granddaughter. Now she’s a teenager. One thing we shared was browsing through the photo book which we will pass on to her, showing the history of our families, including some who lived in the 1800s. 

She said, “It’s real cool.” 

We had a big hug before she left for home. 

She’s very tall, like her father.

*

Always food connects us, especially enjoying decadent and sinful chocolate desserts.

• Chilled crystal bowls of velvety, creamy chocolate mousse, 

• Squares of fudgy chocolate chip brownies, 

• Slices of chocolate cheesecake,  

All served with chilled chocolate mocha lattes.  

Sometimes for a special occasion I serve an applesauce noodle kugel reminiscent of this pudding made by our ancestors, Ashkenazi Jews from Eastern Europe. Sometimes I make three kugels and freeze them ahead for later use.

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Sometimes my husband makes a salmon salad, a favorite of our guests for brunch.   

Instructions: 

Open a can of salmon, chop and debone the contents. Add mayonnaise, relish, and cut up small pieces of celery. Mix thoroughly. Fridge. Best served on a croissant. Or on crusty caraway-seeded rye bread.

*

Always the best bagels in the shop are still warm from the kettle. Pumpernickel is my favorite. Second is cinnamon-raisin. Third is whole wheat. Lox (smoked salmon) is placed on any bagel is perfect. Plain. I’m different. No cream cheese. 

Sometimes available at the bagel shop is the bialy, shortened for the Bialystoker kuchen, a bread roll filled in the middle with onion and poppy seeds, chewier than a bagel, and originally created by Jewish bakers in Białystok, Poland.

Sometimes friends and I gather at a café bakery, schmoozing, sitting on bistro chairs at a round table outside, enjoying the warmth of fall, and eating freshly baked pastries. My choice, an apricot danish.

*

Sometimes, well, almost always, my breakfast includes a bowl of Honey Nut Cheerios with almond milk and many mornings my husband and I eat breakfast together. When we go to a restaurant for breakfast, I order a waffle and spread a small amount of butter and lots of maple syrup over it. My second choice is French toast, especially when it is made with challah (egg bread).

*

Sometimes it’s a struggle to remember all the sometimes. What happened to all the sometimes?

Always, despite these feelings, I say a Hebrew prayer thanking God for restoring my soul and giving me another day of life.

Always, there’s a spark ignited within me when I write.

© 2025 Carol J. Wechsler Blatter

Carol J. Wechsler Blatter has contributed writings to Chaleur Press, Story Circle Network Journal, Story Circle Network Anthologies, Writing it Real anthologies, Jewish Literary Journal, Jewish Writing Project, New Millennium Writings, 101.org, and poems to Story Circle Network’s Real Women Write and Covenant of the Generations by Women of Reform Judaism. She is a wife, mother, and a very proud grandmother, and a recently retired psychotherapist in private practice.