I opened my eyes to darkness, and the low murmur of the car radio. I heard soft breathing beside me and pudgy little fingers wrapped around my hand, picking at my cuticles. I wondered where we were, and upon looking at the clock, found that we had only been on the road for an hour. As excited as I was to reach our destination, I was less-than-thrilled about the journey. It was a path I had traveled once before, and it didn't take me long to realize that I had no desire to spend 12 hours in a vehicle ever again. Yet, here I was once again, with nearly 11 hours ahead of me, and another 12 to look forward to upon our return home.
Of course, the reason for this trip would have made any amount of travel time tolerable. If you will recall, on July 15, 2011, I made an announcement (See: Breaking-ish News!) that my sister Dana and her Justin were expecting their first child. On February 18, 2012, they finally welcomed Ruby Katherine into the world. So, despite the lengthy car ride, I jumped at the chance to join my parents, sister Bailey, and nephew Cooper on their excursion to Virginia to meet the newest member of our family.
Virginia was warm and sunny. As we drove to the hospital to meet Ruby, I took in my surroundings. I loved the water, the ships, and the cute little shops and restaurants. "I could live here", I said to myself. I was voted last to hold Ruby, because I was the first to hold Cooper, which was fine with me, because the last one to hold her would surely be the one to hold her longest. As expected, I fell as instantly in love with my new niece as I did with my nephew. She has a head full of dark hair, and a beautiful little mouth with...wait for it...ruby red lips. While I suspect she looks like her daddy in certain ways I am not yet able to see because I have never seen a picture of him as a baby, to me she looks exactly like her mommy.
On that first day, we left the hospital and returned to my sister and Justin's apartment. We watched a movie and ordered pizza, but we were all so exhausted we were asleep before 10:00 p.m. As I lay on the couch, listening to the sounds of the city outside the open windows, I once again said to myself "I could live here". Even as I was so tired I could barely keep my eyes open, I felt alive amidst the salty air and distant sirens.
Throughout the remainder of our trip, I relished the quality time I was able to spend with my niece and nephew, my sisters, my parents, and Justin. I'm very thankful for Justin. I don't like having my sister and niece living so far away from me, but I take comfort in knowing they are in his hands and under his care. If someone had handed me a catalog of men tailored specifically for Dana, I couldn't have hand-picked a more perfect man for my sister. I know he loves them and I know they are safe with him, and that peace of mind is worth more than all the money in the world. The first time I talked to him, I was finally able to feel confident that my sister was safe in her home 12 hours away from the rest of her family.
The morning we left, I was sad. I wasn't ready to say "goodbye" to these people with whom I hadn't been able to spend nearly enough time. I wasn't ready to reduce my contact with Ruby to weekly Skype sessions, when just minutes ago she was sleeping in my arms. I wasn't ready to watch Norfolk grow smaller as we drove further away from it. After all, "I could live here".
I felt a tear drip down my cheek and wiped it away, feeling like an idiot. I'm so over-dramatic. Skype is awesome, and I'm sure I'll get to see Ruby again soon. As if reading my thoughts, Coop grabbed my hand and held it, picking at my cuticles. While we were eating breakfast, I got a text message from my dog and cat, telling me how much they missed me. I found myself wishing for a pair of ruby slippers and began to absentmindedly click together the heels of my gray canvas Toms. When my dad finally pulled in front of my house, I literally ran up the front steps. The familiar ear-piercing screech of my front door as it opened and the similarly ear-piercing "I'm so happy you're home" whine from my dog, was music to my ears.
I said I was over-dramatic.
So, Virginia...sure, I could live there. I would live there. In fact, I would like to live somewhere other than here someday. When it comes to a place to call home, though, I'll keep coming back to my Grand View, because there truly is no place like it.
Monday, February 27, 2012
Friday, February 17, 2012
Spare A Little Candle
I've been having a recurring dream lately, which is resulting in my waking life feeling a bit...off. I do not feel a sense of dread, and I do not feel optimistic, I just feel weird. Something is imbalanced and I can't quite place my finger on it. I have this nagging urge to climb to my roof and yell as loud as I can, I just don't know what I want to yell. In the dream, I'm walking through a maze congested with spiderwebs, all the while tripping over rocks I can't see through an opaque and curling mist. I know my destination, but there are so many obstacles in my path I feel as though I physically cannot move forward. I wake feeling defeated, and as though my every action is pointless. I don't know what it means. Obstacles are a good thing, right? The whole overcoming adversity and learning from your mistakes concept at it's best, I suppose. They slow you down, but if you do not allow them the satisfaction, they won't stop you completely. Occasionally I'll reach out for someone to grab my hand and help me along, but will quickly pull it back. I want to do it by myself. The hands are there, I can feel them brushing my arms and ankles, but I've always been driven with an overwhelming need to prove something. Either to myself or everyone else.
Then again, perhaps it is just a flashback from the haunted cave I attended with some friends before Halloween last year.
I never seem to be able to find enough hours in a single day. I go to work, a place I enjoy, and find myself thinking of all the things I must accomplish before I allow myself to move onto the things I wish to accomplish. Typically, however, bedtime arrives before I get to my coveted wishlist. Maybe I'm sabotaging myself. Maybe I'm afraid to follow my own advice out of an extreme fear of failure. Maybe I need new surroundings. I'm not sure what is going on, or why I feel as though I'm in such a suspended state of limbo, but I need to do something to propel myself forward once again. I've been stuck in the mud for far too long. I have nobody to blame but myself, and I know better than to make excuses.
So why do I continue to provide them?
I would highly doubt anybody's first instinct is to announce to the world that they're wrong about something. While I've become better at acknowledging that I'm not always right and that it actually is acceptable to be wrong, I still don't want to be. Once proven wrong, however, I'm quick to accept it. I don't know if this a good or a bad thing. I suppose it's good in the sense that I'm not overly combative, but it also shows that I may lack a little tenacity. I have friends who will tell you the sky is green, when it is clearly blue, and argue their point until they are sky blue in the face. While I find it exasperating, I also respect them for that. What would this world be if everybody agreed on everything?
How would it be possible to evolve?
While conflict is rarely a pleasant occasion, I doubt many would enjoy living in a world without it. I picture it as everyone walking with a purpose with no desire or need to pause and look around. Everyone wearing identical and drab uniforms, speaking without inflection in an effort to avoid disruption of the constant flow of neutral coexistence...nothing advancing, nothing regressing. Sure, nobody is unhappy, but nobody is happy either. Without the obstacles, my destination would be reached without the ability to appreciate the journey.
Funny how a dream can lead me to question my path in life. Maybe my sleeping self is trying to send a message to my awake self...or maybe it's just a dream.
Then again, perhaps it is just a flashback from the haunted cave I attended with some friends before Halloween last year.
I never seem to be able to find enough hours in a single day. I go to work, a place I enjoy, and find myself thinking of all the things I must accomplish before I allow myself to move onto the things I wish to accomplish. Typically, however, bedtime arrives before I get to my coveted wishlist. Maybe I'm sabotaging myself. Maybe I'm afraid to follow my own advice out of an extreme fear of failure. Maybe I need new surroundings. I'm not sure what is going on, or why I feel as though I'm in such a suspended state of limbo, but I need to do something to propel myself forward once again. I've been stuck in the mud for far too long. I have nobody to blame but myself, and I know better than to make excuses.
So why do I continue to provide them?
I would highly doubt anybody's first instinct is to announce to the world that they're wrong about something. While I've become better at acknowledging that I'm not always right and that it actually is acceptable to be wrong, I still don't want to be. Once proven wrong, however, I'm quick to accept it. I don't know if this a good or a bad thing. I suppose it's good in the sense that I'm not overly combative, but it also shows that I may lack a little tenacity. I have friends who will tell you the sky is green, when it is clearly blue, and argue their point until they are sky blue in the face. While I find it exasperating, I also respect them for that. What would this world be if everybody agreed on everything?
How would it be possible to evolve?
While conflict is rarely a pleasant occasion, I doubt many would enjoy living in a world without it. I picture it as everyone walking with a purpose with no desire or need to pause and look around. Everyone wearing identical and drab uniforms, speaking without inflection in an effort to avoid disruption of the constant flow of neutral coexistence...nothing advancing, nothing regressing. Sure, nobody is unhappy, but nobody is happy either. Without the obstacles, my destination would be reached without the ability to appreciate the journey.
Funny how a dream can lead me to question my path in life. Maybe my sleeping self is trying to send a message to my awake self...or maybe it's just a dream.
Thursday, February 16, 2012
Put Me On A Highway & Show Me A Sign
One year ago today, I found myself standing in a hospital room in Muncie, Indiana. I was there for an arrival, a very special arrival. As I held my baby sister's hand, I had a chance to put my long-retired cheerleading skills to good use. In between "push, push, push" and "you're doing great, Bailey", I could faintly hear "Take It To The Limit" by The Eagles. I smiled to myself and said, too quietly for anyone in the room to hear, "you have to get him out before this song is over".
Shortly thereafter, my sister appropriately took it to the limit, and delivered Cooper, or "Coop", as we typically call him. He was the most perfect newborn I have ever seen. On that day one year ago, February 16th, also my mother's 50th birthday, I fell instantly in love. It was the most important thing I have ever witnessed firsthand, and for the first time in my life, I was truly overcome with emotion.
It has been an amazing year. I want to be a better person for him. I want to be healthy, and a good role model. I'll never forget how I felt the first time he looked at me and a smile of recognition crossed his face. I'll never forget the way I used to get choked up when he would fall asleep on my shoulder. I had never loved anyone this much before. I felt so silly, but I couldn't control it.
He now walks, tackles, sings, laughs, hugs, kisses, experiments, and says "bye bye". I love watching him grow and develop. I try to not let him see my amusement when he is trying to get away with something. I fail miserably at scolding him when he deserves to be scolded.
My favorite thing to do, before he turned into a squirmy almost-toddler and became increasingly anxious to begin exploring the world for himself, was to pace the floor with him in my arms, singing Bob Dylan's "Forever Young". I chose this particular song, because it explains everything I want for my nephew. I want him to never be discouraged and to always know he can be and do anything he works toward. I want him to never think intelligence or education is secondary to frivolities, yet I hope he is always happy and unselfish and can take pleasure in the simpler things in life.
Happy Birthday, Cooper...and Mom! May you both stay, Forever Young.
Shortly thereafter, my sister appropriately took it to the limit, and delivered Cooper, or "Coop", as we typically call him. He was the most perfect newborn I have ever seen. On that day one year ago, February 16th, also my mother's 50th birthday, I fell instantly in love. It was the most important thing I have ever witnessed firsthand, and for the first time in my life, I was truly overcome with emotion.
It has been an amazing year. I want to be a better person for him. I want to be healthy, and a good role model. I'll never forget how I felt the first time he looked at me and a smile of recognition crossed his face. I'll never forget the way I used to get choked up when he would fall asleep on my shoulder. I had never loved anyone this much before. I felt so silly, but I couldn't control it.
He now walks, tackles, sings, laughs, hugs, kisses, experiments, and says "bye bye". I love watching him grow and develop. I try to not let him see my amusement when he is trying to get away with something. I fail miserably at scolding him when he deserves to be scolded.
My favorite thing to do, before he turned into a squirmy almost-toddler and became increasingly anxious to begin exploring the world for himself, was to pace the floor with him in my arms, singing Bob Dylan's "Forever Young". I chose this particular song, because it explains everything I want for my nephew. I want him to never be discouraged and to always know he can be and do anything he works toward. I want him to never think intelligence or education is secondary to frivolities, yet I hope he is always happy and unselfish and can take pleasure in the simpler things in life.
Happy Birthday, Cooper...and Mom! May you both stay, Forever Young.
"Forever Young"
May God bless and keep you always
May your wishes all come true
May you always do for others
And let others do for you
May you build a ladder to the stars
And climb on every rung
And may you stay, forever young
May you stay, forever young
May you grow up to be righteous
May you grow up to be true
May you always know the truth
And see the lights surrounding you
May you always be courageous
Stand upright and be strong
And may you stay, forever young
May you stay, forever young
May your hands always be busy
May your feet always be swift
May you have a strong foundation
When the winds of changes shift
May your heart always be joyful
May your song always be sung
And may you stay, forever young
May you stay, forever young
Monday, February 13, 2012
Love, Love, Love
Love is everything. Without it we would cease to exist. Love is in the pride we take in our work. We taste it in a home cooked meal. We smell it in a well-tended garden. We observe it in the passion it takes to make a difference. Love is not just something that happens between two people, but something that fuels our very existence. "Love, actually is all around."
"The opposite of love is not hate, it's indifference" ~Elie Wiesel
Hate accomplishes nothing, but gives Love a purpose. Indifference doesn't even make an attempt, and Love is left unaware. With love in our hearts, we see the entire world differently. However, it's easy to allow that view to be clouded by ugliness. Everyday I see far too many of the people I encounter focusing on the negative aspect of everything. Spewing hatred, often for no good reason, gets you nowhere. Jealousy and resentment become entangled in each movement. Too often, self-loathing is mistaken for pride. If more people could step down from their pedestals and admit to their own shortcomings, some of that ugliness would dissipate. Instead, it seems to be growing thicker, like a heavy fog. Life is a gift...each day is a gift...isn't is more productive to spend it with a smile on your face, and love in your heart?
I've had a very cynical point-of-view in regards to love in the past, and if I told you right now that I didn't still, I would be lying. Even as I type this, I wonder if it's too cliche or cheesy. I want to have hope and I want to see the best in people. When I find myself the object of ridicule, or coming to the realization that I have been used, or rejected, I switch to autopilot and decide it is easiest to envelop myself in a cocoon of self-pity. Without fail, sooner rather than later, it finally dawns on me that while I'm not sure why I was put on this earth, I am certain it wasn't to feel sorry for myself. At that point "I pick myself up, dust myself off, start all over again". Always further educated, and armed with the knowledge my instincts have been sharpened. Something else always comes along, maybe not in the form you expect, but it manages to prove that nothing is hopeless.
We all lose people, and jobs, and experience shifts in our lifestyles. If it doesn't kill us, it only serves to make us more resilient, and more capable of accepting the challenges life throws our way. We also all gain people, and find jobs, and some of those shifts are good ones. The Whos' love reversed the Grinch's hate. Rhett Butler didn't give a damn, and in the end, nobody won. We're all going to be heartbroken. We will all know rejection at some point. We will all know animosity and disdain. When faced with adversity, you are being extended a challenge to turn it into something good. Either for the benefit of everyone, or just yourself. Don't waste that chance. We are given but one life, doesn't it seem shameful and disrespectful to squander that?
In the end...
"All you need is love...love is all you need"
Because...
Love never fails.
"The opposite of love is not hate, it's indifference" ~Elie Wiesel
Hate accomplishes nothing, but gives Love a purpose. Indifference doesn't even make an attempt, and Love is left unaware. With love in our hearts, we see the entire world differently. However, it's easy to allow that view to be clouded by ugliness. Everyday I see far too many of the people I encounter focusing on the negative aspect of everything. Spewing hatred, often for no good reason, gets you nowhere. Jealousy and resentment become entangled in each movement. Too often, self-loathing is mistaken for pride. If more people could step down from their pedestals and admit to their own shortcomings, some of that ugliness would dissipate. Instead, it seems to be growing thicker, like a heavy fog. Life is a gift...each day is a gift...isn't is more productive to spend it with a smile on your face, and love in your heart?
I've had a very cynical point-of-view in regards to love in the past, and if I told you right now that I didn't still, I would be lying. Even as I type this, I wonder if it's too cliche or cheesy. I want to have hope and I want to see the best in people. When I find myself the object of ridicule, or coming to the realization that I have been used, or rejected, I switch to autopilot and decide it is easiest to envelop myself in a cocoon of self-pity. Without fail, sooner rather than later, it finally dawns on me that while I'm not sure why I was put on this earth, I am certain it wasn't to feel sorry for myself. At that point "I pick myself up, dust myself off, start all over again". Always further educated, and armed with the knowledge my instincts have been sharpened. Something else always comes along, maybe not in the form you expect, but it manages to prove that nothing is hopeless.
We all lose people, and jobs, and experience shifts in our lifestyles. If it doesn't kill us, it only serves to make us more resilient, and more capable of accepting the challenges life throws our way. We also all gain people, and find jobs, and some of those shifts are good ones. The Whos' love reversed the Grinch's hate. Rhett Butler didn't give a damn, and in the end, nobody won. We're all going to be heartbroken. We will all know rejection at some point. We will all know animosity and disdain. When faced with adversity, you are being extended a challenge to turn it into something good. Either for the benefit of everyone, or just yourself. Don't waste that chance. We are given but one life, doesn't it seem shameful and disrespectful to squander that?
In the end...
"All you need is love...love is all you need"
Because...
Love never fails.
Monday, February 6, 2012
Seven, Eight
I was born February 8, 1980. On February 7, 1983, my sister, Dana was born. Now, I am pretty sure I didn't ask my mom and dad for a sister for my birthday, but some of the best presents I've ever gotten were those I never requested. From what I understand, due to the fact that my party would have to be postponed, everyone attempted to keep the fact that it was my birthday from me out of fear I would freak out. A week later, on the day of my rescheduled party, my mom, holding a week-old dressed-up Dana, asked me if I thought my sister looked cute. I replied with a resounding, "No". My mother, thinking she and my father had ruined my sweet and pleasant demeanor by having another baby, cried that day. When my cousin, Lyle, arrived to my party, I told him to go home. Siblinghood had seemingly turned me from a meek and mild little girl into a jealous and grumpy monster.
As it turns out, Dana ended up being pretty cool...after she grew up and started walking and talking, and able to maneuver a Barbie doll. I always had a pal, someone to play with, and laugh with, and fight with. She had these fat little cheeks and an infectious giggle. Even then, she was frustratingly impatient. She hated veggies and loved candy. She was always trying to get away with something. She was a true diva, and she was my best friend.
Our most dreaded, and delightful days were those in which our parents would announce that we would be spending the weekend cleaning our bedroom. A horrid task which included clearing out our jam-packed closet and exploring the darkest depths underneath our beds. The only thing we managed to accomplish was the creation of a mountain of neglected toys at the opening of the closet, and several hours of playing Barbies. We would inevitably end up on the receiving end of a punishment for never completing the task at hand. I was always more upset about this punishment than Dana was, she was fearless. The only punishment that seemed to upset her was when she was forced to stand in the corner, likely because it required her to stay in one place for an extended period of time.
That same restlessness would eventually take her to Chicago, and then Florida. She now resides in Virginia, with her boyfriend, her dog, and a little girl growing in her belly. A little girl I am assuming is waiting impatiently to make her grand debut...a debut that could happen any day now. I miss her and wish more than anything she lived closer so I could see her more often. It has been years since we have celebrated our birthdays together. When she visits, saying goodbye when she leaves is always just as hard as it was the first time she moved away. When she does visit, though, we come together as if we've never been apart.
We do not agree on everything. For example, she thinks I drive too slow, and alternately, I am annoyed by the fact that she is of the opinion that I drive too slow. The older we get the less similar we become. The geographical distance between us has caused our relationship to evolve into something much different from the one we had when we were little girls giggling behind a pile of toys in our empty closet. Different does not mean worse, or even less significant, however. We are adults, and have carved out our own unique lives in this world. Technology makes it a little easier to be apart. I rarely go even a day without talking to her on a gadget of some sort.
We love each other. We root for each other. I don't remember my life before she existed, and I don't wish to imagine a future without her. Maybe I wasn't so thrilled at first to have my birthday hijacked by a tiny human, but it didn't take long for me to realize that I'm lucky to get to share my special day with my own sister.
"It's enough to make kings and vagabonds, believe the very best..." ~ Elton John
As it turns out, Dana ended up being pretty cool...after she grew up and started walking and talking, and able to maneuver a Barbie doll. I always had a pal, someone to play with, and laugh with, and fight with. She had these fat little cheeks and an infectious giggle. Even then, she was frustratingly impatient. She hated veggies and loved candy. She was always trying to get away with something. She was a true diva, and she was my best friend.
Our most dreaded, and delightful days were those in which our parents would announce that we would be spending the weekend cleaning our bedroom. A horrid task which included clearing out our jam-packed closet and exploring the darkest depths underneath our beds. The only thing we managed to accomplish was the creation of a mountain of neglected toys at the opening of the closet, and several hours of playing Barbies. We would inevitably end up on the receiving end of a punishment for never completing the task at hand. I was always more upset about this punishment than Dana was, she was fearless. The only punishment that seemed to upset her was when she was forced to stand in the corner, likely because it required her to stay in one place for an extended period of time.
That same restlessness would eventually take her to Chicago, and then Florida. She now resides in Virginia, with her boyfriend, her dog, and a little girl growing in her belly. A little girl I am assuming is waiting impatiently to make her grand debut...a debut that could happen any day now. I miss her and wish more than anything she lived closer so I could see her more often. It has been years since we have celebrated our birthdays together. When she visits, saying goodbye when she leaves is always just as hard as it was the first time she moved away. When she does visit, though, we come together as if we've never been apart.
We do not agree on everything. For example, she thinks I drive too slow, and alternately, I am annoyed by the fact that she is of the opinion that I drive too slow. The older we get the less similar we become. The geographical distance between us has caused our relationship to evolve into something much different from the one we had when we were little girls giggling behind a pile of toys in our empty closet. Different does not mean worse, or even less significant, however. We are adults, and have carved out our own unique lives in this world. Technology makes it a little easier to be apart. I rarely go even a day without talking to her on a gadget of some sort.
We love each other. We root for each other. I don't remember my life before she existed, and I don't wish to imagine a future without her. Maybe I wasn't so thrilled at first to have my birthday hijacked by a tiny human, but it didn't take long for me to realize that I'm lucky to get to share my special day with my own sister.
"It's enough to make kings and vagabonds, believe the very best..." ~ Elton John
Subscribe to:
Posts (Atom)