Friday, July 24, 2009
Tuesday, July 21, 2009
Saturday, May 30, 2009
i received the letter on a saturday.
the saturday before memorial day.
i would've called, but i knew the office would be closed over the long weekend.
so i set the letter aside.
somewhere it wouldn't stare at me like the menacing look of a headmistress.
i kept busy.
each time my mind would wander into the unknown, i forced it to detour to a more peaceful place.
sometimes it worked, sometimes it didn't.
i wish i could train myself better, my thoughts like a restless puppy in need of discipline.
when tuesday rolled around, i was prepared to make the call. i was hoping they could squeeze me in that day.
i was ready.
but no appointments were available until thursday afternoon.
what could i do? it was out of my control.
so i agreed. i would be back on thursday. two more days of hiding the letter.
this worked until wednesday night. i'm not exactly sure why my vulnerability appeared like an unwanted guest:
what if they were right?
what if it was true?
what if this was "it"?
i slept restlessly.
it was 2 pm on thursday. and i took a deep breath as i put my dressing gown on.
the required tests took no time. and i sat in a sterile hallway. nurses walked by with sympathetic smiles.
i didn't like the sympathetic smiles. they reminded me of why i was here, sitting in this chair.
it only took ten minutes. no more waiting.
i had my answer.
i stifled tears and searched for my composure.
they were wrong.
there would be no more letters. no more follow-up tests. no more doctors.
no more worrying. no more unknown.
the letter, was resolved.
Wednesday, May 27, 2009
there are so many things that are out of my hands.
i don't like that.
i like knowing the questions and knowing the answers.
i like understanding what i'm dealing with and eliminating the undisclosed.
i like to be able to exert some sort of control over my life and rely on this.
but that's not always possible.
i heard some news the other day.
it came in the form of a letter.
it's so strange how one minute you're trying to decide where to indulge your kids with a cinnamon roll while absently ripping open an envelope.
and the next moment your hand is shaking slightly and you have to fake a smile to your child in the back seat.
you stare at the envelope because it is trespassing on your happiness.
it wasn't invited.
it wasn't even considered.
and yet you have to deal with it.
you wish you could throw it away in the trash with the rest of the junk mail, but this one requires a phone call.
it's walking into the unknown that is so unnerving.
give me a set of parameters i can grasp, instructions i can follow or a play-by-play of what's to come next.
then i can deal.
but this one requires letting go.
it will be what it will be...
Wednesday, May 20, 2009
"memory is a way of holding onto the things you love, the things you are, the things you never want to lose."
~From the television show The Wonder Years
when i close my eyes real tight, i can almost see my memories playing out in front of me, like sitting in the front row of my favorite movie.
the color is crisp. the soundtrack - stimulating.
i am lying on my back on a float. the sun is beating down. the waves rock me in a lazy fashion making subtle swishing sounds. and i am content.
i play this memory over and over again, like a child who watches her favorite Dora video for the nineteenth time and never bores of it.
when i hear a certain song, i am transported back in time and i can relive that moment in an instant.
i am sixteen years old. my second week of a new license. the radio is playing naked eyes "always something there to remind me." my girlfriend and i are blaring out the chorus, while studying cars at traffic lights, in search of cute boys.
my smile copies that of years ago.
and i hear the song over and over again in my head, like a tween who downloads his first song on itunes and never tires of it.
when i smell a particular aroma, it triggers a recollection of another untroubled time, one in which i would like to relive.
the freshly baked baguette reminds me of those small paris streets, vendors selling their favorite recipes. brightly colored flowers, and outdoor cafes with old men sipping espresso.
the memory so vivid i can taste it.
and i order that bread as often as i can, like an old lady whose grocery list never changes.
~edward de bono
Thursday, May 7, 2009
i found it a challenge when forced to sit down and think of seven things that i love. not that my mind went blank. the reverse, actually. i had to be tough and hone down my list. so, below is my final compilation of:
i have many morning rituals which i enjoy. laying in bed lazily, drinking a liter of water, taking my vitamins, going on a five mile walk and reading insidecandy.co.za. candy is a remarkable writer whose blog includes excerpts from her published poetry, political commentary, insight into how her mind works, and witty, goofy blurbs. it's mesmerizing.
how cool was it to see that i am one of seven blogs she loves to read. she was kind enough to pass on the kreativ blogger award. and here's how it goes. i was asked to rake my mind and come up with seven things i love as well as seven blogs i love.
seven things i love (in no particular order):
1.) the whipped cream mustache you get with your first sip of hot cocoa.
2.) the scent of my husband's skin when i lay my face on his chest.
3.) fitting into a pair of "just washed and dried" jeans without having to do squats.
4.) the first coke of the day.
5.) les nuits d'hadrien and the way it makes me feel when i'm wearing it.
6.) watching my black belt girls kick ass in tae kwon do.
7.) sheetcake from safeway.
equally difficult, was trying to choose seven blogs that i love. but the following make me think, make me laugh, make me question, make me smile and make me a better person for having read them. so, with no further ado, i present to you:
seven blogs i love (again, in no particular order):
7.) and right back atcha, candy, insidecandy.co.za
go ahead and pass it along, or just bathe in the glory...
Wednesday, April 22, 2009
Thursday, April 2, 2009
Wednesday, March 25, 2009
Thursday, March 19, 2009
Monday, March 16, 2009
Tuesday, March 10, 2009
Saturday, March 7, 2009
Monday, March 2, 2009
Monday, February 23, 2009
Tuesday, February 17, 2009
"gently remind yourself that life is okay the way it is, right now. in the absence of your judgment, everything would be fine. as you begin to eliminate your need for perfection in all areas of your life, you'll begin to discover the perfection in life itself." -richard carlson
Thursday, February 5, 2009
Monday, February 2, 2009
Friday, January 23, 2009
Tuesday, January 13, 2009
Wednesday, January 7, 2009
Friday, January 2, 2009
Tuesday, December 30, 2008
Thursday, December 25, 2008
Tuesday, December 16, 2008
they were having problems, she wrote me.
Sunday, December 14, 2008
the walls whisper when they are gone.