And then life happens
It's amazing how our experiences are central causes and effects that move our lives (and at an incredibly quick speed, might I add). And in those changes, in that movement driving us forward (or that movement that we drive forward?), we grow. Our ideas grow. Our interests grow. Our love grows. Our wants and desires grow. Our opinions, our tastes, our behaviors. It all grows. What do I want to do when I grow up? Always keep growing.
I woke up one day and I was a teacher in Saint Louis that traded nights out to nights in, money on partying to money on classroom parties. And I'm not sad about it. As much as I do miss the non-reality that my life was for the last four years, I embrace the changes I am seeing in myself and in my environment and daily life. I'm finding myself (how is it that we are always finding ourselves?) yet again. I'm realizing that we never really find ourselves (it's not a destination, it's a journey).
I woke up one day and I was a teacher in Saint Louis that traded nights out to nights in, money on partying to money on classroom parties. And I'm not sad about it. As much as I do miss the non-reality that my life was for the last four years, I embrace the changes I am seeing in myself and in my environment and daily life. I'm finding myself (how is it that we are always finding ourselves?) yet again. I'm realizing that we never really find ourselves (it's not a destination, it's a journey).
See you Laters
Goodbyes are supposed to be sad, right? We dig ourselves into what seem to be endlessly deep holes of denial, sentimentality, anxiety, and tears when faced with the almost unfathomable idea of separating ways with the people and places we hold most dear to us. Many of us think we are bad at goodbyes. We are awkward and don’t say the right thing to avoid crying, or we become blubbering fools when the car pulls up only to pull away with that best friend, daughter, son, brother, sister, parent, or special someone. I’m part of the crowd that puts off thinking about goodbyes until reality is literally rubbing my face in it, and then all hell breaks loose. It’s because some of us cannot let go of relationships, both human relationships and those connections we establish with places, things, and memories that have a permanent mark on our hearts. But in one of the most “goodbye” saturated moments of my life, I am comforted by a new thought. I looked back on the goodbyes of my life, and at first thought of teary hugs by the car door and moments of, “I’m not ready for you to go!” But then I realized those weren’t goodbyes. I saw my best friend weeks after we separated for colleges in different states. My parents came to my dorm and I came back home hundreds of times. All of the people and places that pulled cries and moments of desperate sadness returned to me or I to them, granted, with a break of time or distance in between.
The real goodbyes, the ones that meant the real end of either proximity or the relationship that made knowing on another matter, were never the same as the “see you laters” that truly tug at our hearts. Letting go of my once-best friend who hadn’t taken on that role in years was more of an annoyance and release than a “I’ll miss you” sob affair. The point in the breakup where you are ready to really say goodbye is less painful than relieved as well. Because at the real goodbyes, the string is almost cut already. We only truly allow ourselves to say goodbye to the people and places we are ready to release for good, or at least in the capacity in which they are to us. Hugging my parents goodbye when I move across the country will be much more emotional than the permanent goodbye to the casual friend I know I won’t hear from again.
It should be comforting, in a strange way I confess, to know that the separations that hurt, the ones we deny thinking about until the last possible moment, aren’t the devastating losses and moments of change we anticipate. The real goodbyes are moments of finality for which our hearts are prepared to move on to someone or something else, to let go, and close a chapter that was ready to end. The ones we worry about are only “see you laters” that are difficult, yes, but not goodbyes. They aren’t endings and they aren’t brutal cuts, but simply a stretching of the coverage your relationship will hold to keep you bound together.
Goodbyes, the real ones, are still and always will be sad. But we are strong, and we can handle letting go of what’s already gone. And the “see you laters” remind us that time and distance are only markers between us, the stitches that bind and separate the most intimate and lasting of relationships.
The real goodbyes, the ones that meant the real end of either proximity or the relationship that made knowing on another matter, were never the same as the “see you laters” that truly tug at our hearts. Letting go of my once-best friend who hadn’t taken on that role in years was more of an annoyance and release than a “I’ll miss you” sob affair. The point in the breakup where you are ready to really say goodbye is less painful than relieved as well. Because at the real goodbyes, the string is almost cut already. We only truly allow ourselves to say goodbye to the people and places we are ready to release for good, or at least in the capacity in which they are to us. Hugging my parents goodbye when I move across the country will be much more emotional than the permanent goodbye to the casual friend I know I won’t hear from again.
It should be comforting, in a strange way I confess, to know that the separations that hurt, the ones we deny thinking about until the last possible moment, aren’t the devastating losses and moments of change we anticipate. The real goodbyes are moments of finality for which our hearts are prepared to move on to someone or something else, to let go, and close a chapter that was ready to end. The ones we worry about are only “see you laters” that are difficult, yes, but not goodbyes. They aren’t endings and they aren’t brutal cuts, but simply a stretching of the coverage your relationship will hold to keep you bound together.
Goodbyes, the real ones, are still and always will be sad. But we are strong, and we can handle letting go of what’s already gone. And the “see you laters” remind us that time and distance are only markers between us, the stitches that bind and separate the most intimate and lasting of relationships.
Little Things
You always hear about finding pleasure in the little things, and beauty in the smallest breathes of life that are almost lost in the blink of an eye. There are the easy treasures: the relationships that stamp your soul, the successes and even the failures, and the faith that keeps your direction pointed in the stars. But even the beauty in these things comes from those minuscule instances and feelings that maybe even unknowingly bring a trace of a smile for just a second of your day. It’s easy not to notice, but that brief flicker of a grin makes all the difference in the world, because it will define that day for you when you look back on what mattered.
Some of the frivolity that holds tight in my boldest (both intensely great and difficult of days) memories?
The first deep breathe I take in when I feel a new season roll around — fall is the best. The way the sun feels against your back when you’re sitting with your feet at the surface of the water. The feeling of the back of his hand brushing the back of yours. The warmth of the covers when you wake up with the cool air of the room on your face. The clicking of the keyboard when you have a flash of inspiration to type up something important. The smell of a new book. And the subtle crinkle of the pages when you’ve flipped through the same ones over and over again. The first few seconds of the song when you’re fumbling through your head to be ready to start singing along. The smudge on your fingers after reading through the newspaper. The grin you can’t control when your best friend calls you out. The feel of his breathe when he breathes smells your hair with his eyes closed The first taste of an ice cold beer. The butterflies when his name shows up. The first summer evenings when the fireflies come out. When he kisses your forehead. That pain in your stomach when you’re laughing so hard with your girlfriends that you just can’t stop. The sparkle that flickers in your eyes when you’ve caught each other’s gaze. The first step after you’ve taken off your heels after a long day. The heated flush in your cheeks. The sigh you wake up to when you can still remember your dream. The way the sun looks sweeping through your blinds in the morning. That giddy feeling you get right before you tell your best friend a secret. The second just before and just after you say and hear “I love you.”
Some of the frivolity that holds tight in my boldest (both intensely great and difficult of days) memories?
The first deep breathe I take in when I feel a new season roll around — fall is the best. The way the sun feels against your back when you’re sitting with your feet at the surface of the water. The feeling of the back of his hand brushing the back of yours. The warmth of the covers when you wake up with the cool air of the room on your face. The clicking of the keyboard when you have a flash of inspiration to type up something important. The smell of a new book. And the subtle crinkle of the pages when you’ve flipped through the same ones over and over again. The first few seconds of the song when you’re fumbling through your head to be ready to start singing along. The smudge on your fingers after reading through the newspaper. The grin you can’t control when your best friend calls you out. The feel of his breathe when he breathes smells your hair with his eyes closed The first taste of an ice cold beer. The butterflies when his name shows up. The first summer evenings when the fireflies come out. When he kisses your forehead. That pain in your stomach when you’re laughing so hard with your girlfriends that you just can’t stop. The sparkle that flickers in your eyes when you’ve caught each other’s gaze. The first step after you’ve taken off your heels after a long day. The heated flush in your cheeks. The sigh you wake up to when you can still remember your dream. The way the sun looks sweeping through your blinds in the morning. That giddy feeling you get right before you tell your best friend a secret. The second just before and just after you say and hear “I love you.”
Narration
The reason each of us is a writer at heart is because we all have a story to tell. No matter what narrative we have to share, we each have all the elements that make up that perfect tale, and the characters who support and develop our identities. We have the ones we are compatible with, who share the same temperament and interests, ideals and thoughts. Then there are the ones who we enjoy for the ride, and the ones who always loom on the background but are necessary to each adventure. And finally are the ones who challenge us every step along the way. Sometimes we love them, sometimes we hate them, sometimes we forget why we even care at all. But no matter what the time, we are attracted to them because they light a fire in our souls that make us look into ourselves and take action on our fate.
Best Friends
If we are lucky we find a few friends in this lifetime who carry on with us from one place and time to the next, forever leaving a handprint on our heart. And if we are really lucky, and I mean truly blessed, we find the soul mates that don’t — because they never let go. Those friendships revolve around a mirror in which we are reflections of one another, hiding nothing and seeing in one another both selves. From these precious few, there are no secrets except those shared. They see our flaws, they see our scars, they see our hopes, our dreams, our fears, and they themselves are manifestations of all that we are and all that we will ever be. No, they don’t leave handprints on our souls, not because they don’t touch us, but because we are forever bound to them, palm in palm, finger-by-finger forever intertwined.
Me
I believe in believing. Laughing when it's inappropriate, crying when you're overwhelmed with happiness, meeting people through looks, staying up all night just to watch the stars, and conversations about nothing that change everything. Our lives are all about decisions. Good ones, bad ones, and the ones we aren't so sure about. All of them are important though, because they keep us in control. What matters is that we make them, and most of all that we make them for ourselves and no one else. Because in the end, that's all we have. What we choose to do and who we choose to be.
You find You
You become normal when you wake up one day and finally see there is no such thing as normalcy. You find yourself when you recognize that you’ve always been you, or at least you’ve always had the supplies to become you. Some of us realize that early and have the luxury of happy banishment from trivial social categories that we make up in our own imaginations. For some of us it takes a while to look in the mirror and see what’s actually there in front of us. We search for who we are, but the funny thing is, it’s always there. It’s like not knowing what color your eyes are and looking behind every wall and in every corner and locking eyes with every pair we can find, and not realizing that if we just look at our own reflection we’ll have our answer, an answer we will never get looking at someone else.
It's all playground politics
When you were a little kid, you did everything without a care in the world. You jumped in the deep end of the pool when your mom warned you not to and you weren't afraid to march up to the big kids and demand to be allowed to play along. You thought you were brace, but your elders knew it was really just that you didn't know any better. You wouldn't do those crazy trampoline stunts if you knew you could break or bust an assortment of bones. You wouldn't run at all speed barefoot if you really knew what you were stepping into. And then that shock of pain would hit you. You would see that drop of blood and burst into tears knowing, surely, you couldn't survive such an ordeal. But then after the band-aids came off (usually a little more painful in its own than you'd like), you were fine. And what was the best part?
The scars. They were your showpieces to the other kids. They were reminders of the traumatic experience you just suffered and survived. And they taught you something - maybe. Here's the thing. While they should teach you a thing or two about how to be careful (maybe next time just one somersault? maybe I shouldn't go hands-free?), I hope they never keep you from doing it all over again - changes, risks, excitement, danger included.
Those headfirst childhood adventures are a lot like falling in love. Before you've been bruised and scarred, when you are blind to all of the potential pains, you jump in all-or-nothing without that trepidation that comes with experience of the tainted. Some people are afraid to go back to those risks, staring at those scars from the last fall.
I, on the other hand, always admired the kids who went back on the jungle gym with scraped elbows and bruised knees - they always seemed better off. They knew the adventure was worth a little sting now and again. So let's not be the kids who stayed by their moms with tears streaming down their faces as they watched the other kids have all the fun. And let's not be the adults who watch from the bench, Neosporin in hand, because they know better. Instead, let's be the rambunctious hellfires who never got brought down and who were the last ones in from recess.
The scars. They were your showpieces to the other kids. They were reminders of the traumatic experience you just suffered and survived. And they taught you something - maybe. Here's the thing. While they should teach you a thing or two about how to be careful (maybe next time just one somersault? maybe I shouldn't go hands-free?), I hope they never keep you from doing it all over again - changes, risks, excitement, danger included.
Those headfirst childhood adventures are a lot like falling in love. Before you've been bruised and scarred, when you are blind to all of the potential pains, you jump in all-or-nothing without that trepidation that comes with experience of the tainted. Some people are afraid to go back to those risks, staring at those scars from the last fall.
I, on the other hand, always admired the kids who went back on the jungle gym with scraped elbows and bruised knees - they always seemed better off. They knew the adventure was worth a little sting now and again. So let's not be the kids who stayed by their moms with tears streaming down their faces as they watched the other kids have all the fun. And let's not be the adults who watch from the bench, Neosporin in hand, because they know better. Instead, let's be the rambunctious hellfires who never got brought down and who were the last ones in from recess.