My name is Caitlin. Nice to meet you.
I was born in September, grew up in Oregon’s Rogue Valley, and lived in Portland after graduating from college. I read, but not as voraciously as I used to. I dabble in acrylic painting, but not frequently. I write in my head all the time.
I am a musician emeritus. Our parents sent us to piano lessons when we were young, which I eventually rebelled against and later regretted not practicing enough. They also encouraged me when I decided I wanted to learn the violin, joined orchestra, and later choir. I keep my violin with books of études and simple tunes in my home, just in case. Not a day goes by without listening to music of some kind.
I am a tea drinker. Plain green tea is my brew of choice, always unsweetened, though I have grown to appreciate the right amount of good coffee. I cook foremost for function; my husband’s food is more adventurous. Chocolate isn’t safe in our house.
I am married. My husband and I knew each other for ten years before we married. I transplanted to Louisiana from Oregon when work took him there and we birthed both kids in Texas . He lived overseas for many years and I for a semester; we both dreamed about expatriate living until we had the chance to move back to Oregon and be neighbors to our parents.
I am a mother. I have three sons: the first died at an hour old and rests in a fir grove; the second and third thrive, growing and changing and moving fast. Motherhood uplifts and humbles me. It’s something I was always supposed to do.
I am baptized Catholic, confirmed and married in the Church. I say the Guardian Angel prayer for my kids, but I don’t attend Mass very often. Various teachers have shown me the value of returning to one’s breath, mindfulness, and moderation in most things. Humanism makes some sense to me, and parts of the yoga, but the body of knowledge uncovered by exploration and science is my favorite lens on the wonder of Life.
Lastly, I am a mountains and rivers girl. I missed the elevation changes and tumbling waters of my home state as much as I miss the ones I’ve never seen. My body wants to climb, my arms and legs to pull and push me up, and my lungs to fill with forest air. I loved the beach in Texas, and having a good tan, but my heart forever skips for mountains and rivers.
I carry life’s load, just like you. My voice is no louder than yours. I write some things down and I’ll share a bit with you. Write me back when you can.