1.24.2015 ~ This Bench, This Friggin’ Bench…

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So there’s this bench,
An unassuming little bench,
A concrete slab to sit on,
Cold and hard like a dead heart,
Metal legs, rusted to a deep
Shade of ochre.
It sits right there, in front of
An unassuming little Japanese barbeque,
With a neon sign burning
Its jade glow onto the pavement in front.
It’s nothing special, so modest,
With what must be years of petrified gum and
Rotted crud stuck on its underside,
And stains of a hundred cigarettes likely
Snuffed out by their death dealers on its surface.
Its patrons probably don’t pay it much mind,
But here’s the thing that none of them
Seem to know, to understand
About this unassuming little bench in
Front of a Japanese barbeque…
That bench is our bench,
We share that, you and I.
I could care less how many contented lovers
Have sat on that bench, waiting out
Their fifteen minutes, passing the time
Until they hear, “Smith, party of two.”
Or maybe it’s Phillips, or Harris,
Or Chang, Byun, Lyle or Connors,
Azarov or Escamilla.
I could tick off a thousand names,
A hundred thousand, no, make it a million!
None of them would matter to me,
Not even a little.
Because when I glare at that bench with
My bright, maya blue eyes, all I can glimpse
Are the shadowy ghosts of two people
Who sat on that bench and
Pretended to be lovers, for that day
And way too few, after.

1.22.2015 ~ The Most Profound Thing I Heard This Week…

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Let go
Of the notion of “fair.”
Fathers would protect, nurture,
Show temperance, if life
Was fair.
They wouldn’t need you
To parent them if life
Was fair.
They’d give more than they take,
Heal instead of hurt,
And chase you away.
Life is not fair,
So, embrace the power of pity.
Be as strong as you are,
Heal, without callousing.
Watch your temper, or win now,
And lose in the long run.
You WILL live longer than him,
And better.

1.15.2015 ~ As You Get Older, JT, Remember The Cat…

When you’re young (or at least younger than the person you’re talking to) and are considering the path of your life, you will often be told, “No worries, take one day at a time!   You’ve got your whole life ahead of you!”

It’s such a strange thing to say, really, because the only people that really have their WHOLE lives ahead of them are babies fresh out of the womb.  Obviously, this is a literal interpretation of the phrase, and what people are really trying to say is that you have SO MUCH life still ahead to live.  At least, so much more than them.

There’s something about getting older.  You just steadily come to the realization that you’ve spent so much of your life trying to get older that when you finally are older, you just wished you had stayed younger for a little while longer.

I found myself last week staring at my nephew in awe as we spent a little time together doing the Top of the World Hike in Laguna Beach.  Seventeen years old, and yes, he’s got his whole life ahead of him.  I’m so proud of him, and so honored to have seen him grow into this man that now stares down at me (he’s nearly a foot taller than me, it seems like!).

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I often wonder in my prayers how God saw fit to provide me with such amazing blessings.  Not only has he given me the strength to weather the storms, the courage to be who I am despite my faults, a family that I adore, friends who are family, and so, so much more, it looks like his divine plan is bringing the family that I miss so dear right here to me in California.

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A couple of days ago, after my sister, Rachel, my nephew, JT, and his darling girlfriend, Taylor, came to California so that JT could visit Vanguard University, I got the text that solidified JT’s commitment to the university.  And so it seems that I’ll have one more member of the family close to me, and maybe even more in the near future.  I’ll certainly be keeping my fingers crossed for that!

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For the time being, though….JT, you know I’ve talked to you countless times about my favorite writer, Charles Bukowski.  I found something that he wrote that I’d like to share with you now, and well…as you get older, JT, remember the cat.  I love you and congratulations!!!!

he came to the door one night wet thin beaten and
terrorized
a white cross-eyed tailless cat
I took him in and fed him and he stayed
grew to trust me until a friend drove up the driveway
and ran him over
I took what was left to a vet who said,”not much
chance…give him these pills…his backbone
is crushed, but is was crushed before and somehow
mended, if he lives he’ll never walk, look at
these x-rays, he’s been shot, look here, the pellets
are still there…also, he once had a tail, somebody
cut it off…”
I took the cat back, it was a hot summer, one of the
hottest in decades, I put him on the bathroom
floor, gave him water and pills, he wouldn’t eat, he
wouldn’t touch the water, I dipped my finger into it
and wet his mouth and I talked to him, I didn’t go any-
where, I put in a lot of bathroom time and talked to
him and gently touched him and he looked back at
me with those pale blue crossed eyes and as the days went
by he made his first move
dragging himself forward by his front legs
(the rear ones wouldn’t work)
he made it to the litter box
crawled over and in,
it was like the trumpet of possible victory
blowing in that bathroom and into the city, I
related to that cat-I’d had it bad, not that
bad but bad enough
one morning he got up, stood up, fell back down and
just looked at me.
“you can make it,” I said to him.
he kept trying, getting up falling down, finally
he walked a few steps, he was like a drunk, the
rear legs just didn’t want to do it and he fell again, rested,
then got up.
you know the rest: now he’s better than ever, cross-eyed
almost toothless, but the grace is back, and that look in
his eyes never left…
and now sometimes I’m interviewed, they want to hear about
life and literature and I get drunk and hold up my cross-eyed,
shot, runover de-tailed cat and I say,”look, look
at this!”
but they don’t understand, they say something like,”you
say you’ve been influenced by Celine?”
“no,” I hold the cat up,”by what happens, by
things like this, by this, by this!”
I shake the cat, hold him up in
the smoky and drunken light, he’s relaxed he knows…
it’s then that the interviews end
although I am proud sometimes when I see the pictures
later and there I am and there is the cat and we are photo-
graphed together.
he too knows it’s bullshit but that somehow it all helps.

The History of One Tough Mother******, Charles Bukowski

1.12.2015 ~ Old Habits Die Hard…

Sometimes, at the moment you think you’ve said goodbye to something, it walks right back into your life,  What is it inside of women like me that makes it so hard to leave the past in the past?  Maybe it’s because I’m such an optimist, or a hopeless romantic…or maybe it’s because I feel like there are just some stories that aren’t finished yet…

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I see you in my dreams, in the shadows,
In the city streets, no, not really the streets,
But the rivers of concrete that flow through the hills
Of California, where you gave me a vibrant Sun Star and
I had nothing to give you in return.
I used to write crazy poems about Obsession and Love,
A young girl who knew grown men and made them
Lovers, but I stand as a woman today, and it’s something,
I haven’t written one of these in years, ain’t it a shame?
We only just met, it seems we got so close
In the space of time no bigger than a minute,
While you were on some sandy beach down south,
And I sat in the hills, thinking about the fact that
We stood so near, but we didn’t touch, touch
The place that yearns and burns and screams like fire.
You said I had spirit, you said I should keep writing
About the things that set my soul ablaze – even if
They’re crazy little poems about Obsession and Love, because
It’s all inside me, I can’t deny the desire
To conjure up worlds and emotions that
Are so much better than the ones many of us know,
I told you I wanted to learn to write pain in a beautiful way,
But I didn’t remember that I could
Write about beauty, just the same.
Maybe you are real, I think, and when
They ask me about you, I tell them, friends,
Family, “He plucked me from the dark, and set me down
In a sea of peace, bathed in light.” I want you,
I want you the way a woman wants a man she’s
Only dreamt of, uncorrupted, unhinged, unknown,
Because we never do know what dreams may come,
And we can’t predict what dreams come true.
I couldn’t want you more than I do now, even if we
Were back in that sparkling pool, entwined together, spinning
‘round as we looked up at the blackness of the sky, and
The gleaming brilliance of the stars. You said you missed me
Terribly. Love, I wanted to write back, all lovers
Miss the thing they want most but can’t have.
Desire is a selfish thing, a crazed monster that devours
Passion, love, pleasure, and flesh.
If I hadn’t met you, I might have just forgotten,
What it was like to crave, what it was like to feast,
What it was like to stare down the beast, and say
In the end, alright, you have me.

1.4.2015 ~ 10 Signs He’s Just Too Young For You

It’s no surprise to those of you that have been following me for some time now that 2014 brought the wonderful world of dating back into my life.  With this world came Terry, John, Antoine, Elisha, Derrick, Alton, Marquise, Cecil and Julian.  Yes, I dove back into the dating game head first and didn’t look back!

Some of these men made an impact on my life in 2014, while some of them barely made it past the first date.  Some of them had the potential for the long term, and others, well, others had the potential to be a WHOLE lot of fun…every once in a while.

It’s treacherous territory, and I have to admit I’ve basically had to learn how to date all over again.  I’m not going to lie and say I didn’t go a bit crazy at first.  After John left my life, I found myself on a date or two every week for a while and truth is, it was wearing me out!

I realized I had to rethink my priorities, and what it was I was really looking for.  And I don’t mean just what I was looking for in the kind of relationship I wanted, but the kind of man I wanted as well.  So then, the discussion of age came up.  I noticed I was getting hit on quite a bit by younger men, and while I had chastised some of my male friends like Steven for dating too young, I wondered, does it work the same way for women?  What is the cutoff?  What does one consider too young?  At what point exactly do I become a “cougar”?

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You could say that every person is different, that it’s all based on maturity and the connection that you are able to make with someone.  However, after some careful thought, I’ve come up with this simple list of clues that a man is just way too young to date.

  • When he makes plans with you to hang out on a Friday night and you jokingly reply, “Party On, Wayne,” then he inquires, “Who’s Wayne?”
  • When he asks you about your dating history, you mention that you’ve been divorced, and he says, “Wow, that’s like WAY deeper than a boyfriend/girlfriend.” Uhh yeah, you think?
  • When you ask him to call you, and he texts/messages you via a variety of mobile messaging apps. Viber?  KIK? What’s App?  What’s that?  It’s a new generation, ladies, you’re probably never going to get that hour long phone conversation you’re wishing for with a guy that is just a little too young for you.
  • On a related note, when you have to reference Urban Dictionary or some other online dictionary to decipher his text messages and acronyms, he’s probably too young for you. IRL?  IMO?  B4N?  RBTL?  WYWH?  Seriously, when did it become so hard to spell things out?
  • When he thinks it’s a compliment to you by saying, “Girl, I wanna beast you!” I still don’t know what this means…do I want to be “beasted”?  Can someone help me out here?
  • When you meet a young guy at a bar/club/public venue, and he’s already ready to be your boyfriend and give you babies by the end of the night. Sure, sometimes things can just click, but this kind of behavior often means that he’s lacking the emotional maturity that your 30-something year old self developed some time ago.  Beware of the Stage 4 Clingers!
  • When you catch yourself starting sentences with, “When I was your age…” Next thing you know, you’ll be telling him to go to his bedroom after you have a fight at his place, and you’ll try to get him to see all the amazing benefits of eating organic (you know, versus his frequent In-N-Out trips and obsession with Fruity Pebbles).
  • You’ll tell him to go to his bedroom, that is, if he has his own place. If the dude is still living at home, let’s hope and pray you’re not sneaking in there to hook up while the ‘Rents are out of town.  That’s so high school, and frankly, if you are, I’m a bit disappointed in you.
  • When you meet him on a dating site, and he thinks a legitimate question to ask when getting to know you is, “So, what’s your favorite position?” Actually, just run from any guy that says this off the top, regardless of age.  He’s probably a man whore, or at least thinks that he is, and if that’s not what you’re looking for, then this guy is definitely not for you.
  • And finally, if the guy can’t go into an Over-21 venue with you, or his age ends in the word “teen,” he is ENTIRELY too young for you. If this requires any further explanation, then I really can’t help you.

12.31.2014 ~ Anything Can Happen, Child…

I didn’t make plans for New Year’s Eve.  Not that I’m not into it…well, maybe I’m not THAT into it this year, but it just honestly wasn’t a priority for me this week.

I just got home from a full day at work, and after several invites from friends this afternoon, I finally decided, you know what, some of this sounds like a lot of fun.  So, I’ll be getting my behind together here soon to head out to Huntington Beach for dinner at Cucina Alessa with Katie and Evan, and whatever other rag-tag New Year’s Eve rejects decide to come together last minute.

I’ve been doing a lot of thinking today.  You know, the “cool” thing to say, the “trendy” thing to say today is that I’m not making any resolutions this year.  Why make resolutions?  Why not just live your life as you see fit every single day of your life?

Sure, it’s fine to have hope, to make goals, to see yourself as the best you that you can be.  But this is a thought process that shouldn’t just happen one time a year.  It should be something that you think about every day.  Am I happy with myself today?  Was I happy with myself yesterday?  If not, what can I do to make sure that I’m happy tomorrow?

As the ball drops tonight, and Katie and I have likely taken way too many shots out of that $100 bottle of top shelf tequila she got for Christmas, I’d like to think that I’ll be grateful for the plans that I didn’t make.  Because instead of making plans, I’ve been doing something that seems increasingly more important as I get older…

I’m living.  I’m living a life of hope and faith, a life that values the past, makes the most of every moment in the present, and brightens the future.

Happy New Year, guys!  See you next year!

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12.30.2014 ~ Just Like Riding A Bike

I got a bike for Christmas…

Yes, at the age of 31, I asked Santa Claus (AKA my dad in this case) for a big, shiny beach cruiser for Christmas, and he totally delivered.  The request wasn’t some nod to my childhood; it was actually a very utilitarian request.  I live close to the beach, and having a bike and using it for everything from grocery runs to lazy cruises by Newport Pier is just part of the lifestyle that I now find myself a part of.

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Funny thing, though…I’d kind of forgotten how to ride I bike.  Not that I didn’t understand the basic mechanics anymore, but it was just a bit uncomfortable.  I hadn’t really been on one in years, and it was with some apprehension that I took the cruiser out for a test drive on the street next to my aunt and uncle’s house.

Dad had left to spend the rest of the day with his girlfriend, and so it was that Uncle Hugh found himself airing up the tires on the bike, making sure my brakes were right, and well, basically guiding me through how to ride a bike all over again.  Under his studious supervision, a small bit of instruction, and one loud warning of, “Watch that car!” it wasn’t long before I found my balance and got up the courage to fly down the street, feeling the warm Christmas wind in my hair.

There’s a pretty good chance that if you’re reading this, you know how to ride a bike.  It was probably one of the first things you learned as a child, and it’s been so long now you don’t quite recall how it even happened.

For most people it’s just a natural thing, so natural in fact that there’s a common cliché about it – “Just like riding a bike.”  This is supposed to mean that, regardless of how long it’s been since you’ve done something, what you learned is retained long term.  So much so that whatever skill or knowledge it is, it simply becomes intuitive to you and you’ll know exactly what it is you need to do when the situation calls for it.

There are so many things that can be characterized in this way, but I got to thinking, there are a lot of things that can’t.  Why is it that, no matter what we’ve learned over time, no matter how long ago we’ve learned it, we find ourselves struggling in some of our relationships?  Why is it that we can remember the skills required to ride a bike, but we can’t seem to remember the skills to prevent us from toxic relationships? And I’m not just talking about romantic relationships, but familial relationships and friendships, too.

On Christmas, I found my heart strained by the weight of the poor relationships in my life.  While so many amazing things are happening for me right now, I found it hard to express the joy that this time of year usually brings.  It was hard because I realized I had no idea how to move forward and heal these relationships that actually mean a great deal to me, or meant a great deal to me at one point in time.

But that’s the thing, I guess.  If a relationship “means a great deal” to you, then that is an object of the heart.  The heart is its own entity, and no matter what the mind says or does, it can never take over that ground.  The mind can tell you a great many things, it can even tell you how to ride a bike.  But it can’t ever tell you how to heal a broken heart.

“Now something so sad has hold of us that the breath leaves, and we can’t even cry.” – Charles Bukowski

12.25.2014 ~ A Christmas Poem For The Lonely, A Poem For The Sad, A Poem For The Dreamers, A Poem For The Bad

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King John was not a good man –
He had his little ways.
And sometimes no one spoke to him
For days and days and days.
And men who came across him,
When walking in the town,
Gave him a supercilious stare,
Or passed with noses in the air –
And bad King John stood dumbly there,
Blushing beneath his crown.

King John was not a good man,
And no good friends had he.
He stayed in every afternoon…
But no one came to tea.
And, round about December,
The cards upon his shelf
Which wished him lots of Christmas cheer,
And fortune in the coming year,
Were never from his near and dear,
But only from himself.

King John was not a good man,
Yet had his hopes and fears.
They’d given him no present now
For years and years and years.
But every year at Christmas,
While minstrels stood about,
Collecting tribute from the young
For all the songs they might have sung,
He stole away upstairs and hung
A hopeful stocking out.

King John was not a good man,
He lived his live aloof;
Alone he thought a message out
While climbing up the roof.
He wrote it down and propped it
Against the chimney stack:
“TO ALL AND SUNDRY – NEAR AND FAR -
F. Christmas in particular.”
And signed it not “Johannes R.”
But very humbly, “Jack.”

“I want some crackers,
And I want some candy;
I think a box of chocolates
Would come in handy;
I don’t mind oranges,
I do like nuts!
And I SHOULD like a pocket-knife
That really cuts.
And, oh! Father Christmas, if you love me at all,
Bring me a big, red, india-rubber ball!”

King John was not a good man –
He wrote this message out,
And gat him to this room again,
Descending by the spout.
And all that night he lay there,
A prey to hopes and fears.
“I think that’s him a-coming now!”
(Anxiety bedewed his brow.)
“He’ll bring one present, anyhow –
The first I had for years.”

“Forget about the crackers,
And forget the candy;
I’m sure a box of chocolates
Would never come in handy;
I don’t like oranges,
I don’t want nuts,
And I HAVE got a pocket-knife
That almost cuts.
But, oh! Father Christmas, if you love me at all,
Bring me a big, red, india-rubber ball!”

King John was not a good man,
Next morning when the sun
Rose up to tell a waiting world
That Christmas had begun,
And people seized their stockings,
And opened them with glee,
And crackers, toys and games appeared,
And lips with sticky sweets were smeared,
King John said grimly: “As I feared,
Nothing again for me!”

“I did want crackers,
And I did want candy;
I know a box of chocolates
Would come in handy;
I do love oranges,
I did want nuts!
And, oh! if Father Christmas, had loved me at all,
He would have brought a big, red,
india-rubber ball!”

King John stood by the window,
And frowned to see below
The happy bands of boys and girls
All playing in the snow.
A while he stood there watching,
And envying them all …
When through the window big and red
There hurtled by his royal head,
And bounced and fell upon the bed,
An india-rubber ball!

AND, OH, FATHER CHRISTMAS,
MY BLESSINGS ON YOU FALL
FOR BRINGING HIM
A BIG, RED,
INDIA-RUBBER
BALL!

12.23.2014 ~ Outfit Post ~ Just A Girl Who Decided To Go For It

I wasn’t really committed to doing outfit posts on the blog anymore, not on purpose anyway.  That was until Robin from Tulip Boutique in KC reached out to me recently.

I had done some work with Robin as a KC fashion blogger, and her boutique is one of the most adorable little places located on the Country Club Plaza in Downtown Kansas City.  She is one amazing lady, and the way she runs her business is just truly inspiring.

Since the blog format had changed from fashion-focused to lifestyle-focused, I wasn’t really expecting to hear from too many businesses anymore, but what Robin had to say in her email really touched my heart.  She told me about Tulip’s new feature called Tulip Twist, where participants are asked to style a particular item of clothing in a little bit of a friendly competition.  Robin said she knew I wasn’t writing a fashion blog anymore, but she’d still been following my journey, and realized that this particular item of clothing was perfect for me.

She was SO right.

Sometimes the littlest things can carry the biggest messages, and this is ultimately true of Tulip’s custom girl tee emblazoned with, “Just A Girl Who Decided To Go For It”.

Robin, thank you so much for thinking of me.  While I may not be focused on fashion anymore, you’ve confirmed what I’ve hoped all along – that the people who fell in love with Curvy in Kansas City would be just as touched by Curvy in California.  I AM just a girl who decided to go for it, and it’s been the best decision of my life.

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12.19.2014 ~ Dating After Divorce, Part Three: Even In Fairy Tales, Sometimes Love Is Not Enough

It is Christmas, and as I sit down to write this emotional and thoughtful piece, I find myself reminded of a particularly relevant Christmas movie quote:

“Oh, life is like that. Sometimes, at the height of our revelries, when our joy is at its zenith, when all is most right with the world, the most unthinkable disasters descend upon us.” – Ralphie, A Christmas Story

So true, Ralphie, SO TRUE.

You know, I had this whole intention to drag this part of my story out.  Make the Dating After Divorce series an eight-parter, and really delve into what happened between John and I.  But I know I can’t do that now.  John is gone.  There’s nothing I can do about that, and continuing to write about him will never replace the relationship that we shared.  Life goes on, and so must I.

Unbelievably, I did fall in love with John.  I fell in love with him almost immediately.  No, it wasn’t the kind of love that you build over a lifetime.  It wasn’t the kind of love that you would fight for and would die for, day in and day out (at least, not yet).  But it was the kind of love that got me to thinking that there was SOMEONE ELSE out there that I would fight for…SOMEONE ELSE to make me see that there are some things in this world that I would give anything for.

John’s love was one of those things that I might have given anything for.  And at nearly the precise moment I realized I didn’t need to give anything to get it, John completely disappeared from my life.

At the height of my revelry, when my joy was at its zenith, when all was most right with the world, the most unthinkable disaster descended upon me.

It crushed me a little bit each day that tick-tocked by.  I didn’t know if John was dead, I didn’t know if he had been hurt, I didn’t know if he had just lied to me about everything. I didn’t know…PERIOD.  I sent John a final text message one month after his disappearance damn near begging him to say something to me, anything.  And when I didn’t hear back, well, what could I do?  I cried a little bit more, and I kept trucking.

Four days later, though, I received a reply.  I won’t go into every detail of what John said because, honestly, some of it is crazy, some of it you’d never believe, and well, some of it is stuff I just want to keep to myself.  Those final words of his are just for me, and me alone.

In a nutshell, though, John told me that he had fallen for me hard, but for where he was in his life and career, he just couldn’t see having that kind of relationship and making it work.  He said he would miss me, and he hoped that I would find someone who cared for me the way he did.  He said he would always remember me.

Bullshit is a word that crossed my mind a time or two…

Then, as I often do, I began to think with my heart.  And somewhere in the jumble of thoughts and feelings, notions and emotions, I came to a conclusion.  It’s not a novel idea or anything; it’s even a bit cliché.

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Love was not enough to get me to stay in my marriage.  I loved Haywood with all my heart, and I still have love for him to do this day.  But the love I had for him was not enough to overcome the problems that plagued our relationship.  It was not enough for us to truly make a life together in the midst of the struggle, pain, and woe.  It was not enough to make me stay in a life that no longer made sense to me.

And love was not enough to make John stay.  No matter how great our love was, no matter how many fairy tale moments we shared and could have shared in the future, he found that he could not sacrifice the life that he was on the path to obtaining for our love.  And that’s what love is, really.  It’s sacrifice.  A part of loving others means that you have to be willing to give certain things up.  It’s the price we pay for the great reward of giving love, and being loved in return.

This part of my story is over, our story, John and I’s story, is over.  But I will always be grateful for the amazing love that John showed me that whole magical summer.  It was literally unlike anything I’d ever felt in my life, and I have to be satisfied that he made me happy, even if it was only for a little while.

To end, I’ll leave it with John’s own words.  On days when John wasn’t here, off to parts unknown, I would miss him terribly.  There was one thing, though, that could temper the sting of loneliness – hearing his voice.  I always thought it funny, but years before he had met me, it seemed John had written the song that would define our relationship to me.

“The farther apart we get, we still feel closer than most, It’s an honor to present you these roses, It’s nice to know at least with the band and with Scar, and The Remnant, Some of these sentiments can come to light, And I can only be who I am, Cause you are what you’ve been, I hope that you’ll remember you’re my sunlight, Love.”

12.16.2014 ~ The Road Not Taken

You can see love.  There’s just something – a buzz, a heat, a fire – that you can always seem to tell surrounds two people who are deeply and truly, madly in love.

You can see family.  The grandmother who pitches in and babysits to give her own child a little respite from the daily grind of motherhood, the father sitting at the head of the dinner table asking his family to bow their heads in prayer, the teenage daughter that shrilly yells, “I hate you!” when she’s told for the millionth time, “No, you can NOT date that boy!”

And you can see friendship.  This is what it looks like…

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It’s really hard to make friends as you get older.  Sure, you meet all kinds of people, have all sorts of acquaintances.  You might have a cup of coffee with them once in a while, or have them over for dinner parties.  You might have lunch with them once a week, or go hiking with them once a month.

But I’m talking about REAL friends, not situational friends – the soul sisters, the ride-or-dies, the women you meet where there is just an explosion of friend chemistry and you can’t imagine what your life would ever be without them.

The sad fact is, as you get older, your priorities change, schedules become tighter, and you often become pickier about the kind of people you choose to be in your life.  While we were all too ready to explore every avenue of friendship in our teens and twenties, it seems after thirty, the era of making BFFs pretty much comes to end.

But on those rare occasions, you might just be open enough to that chance, to that wonderful possibility.  Maybe like me, you’ve just experienced a huge life change, and there’s a brief moment where you realize, I could use a friend.

When I met Brittany, I honestly didn’t know how much she would end up meaning to me.  First, we were colleagues, then we were work BFFs, then suddenly, she was cuddled up next to me on a Friday night while watching Merry Friggin’ Christmas, scarfing down a Hotties pizza, and ranting about the thoroughly stupid things that the men in our lives were doing at the time.

She’s not just any old friend, she’s a best friend.  And she’s leaving me!

God bless her, just when I realize I can’t live without her, this child decides she wants to move to Portland.  And you know what?  As much as I’ll miss her, I know she’s got to go.  Because I am living proof that taking a journey into the unknown can be the greatest thing that could ever happen to a person.

So, this one is for you, babe.  I love you.

Two roads diverged in a yellow wood,
And sorry I could not travel both
And be one traveler, long I stood
And looked down one as far as I could
To where it bent in the undergrowth;
Then took the other, as just as fair,
And having perhaps the better claim,
Because it was grassy and wanted wear;
Though as for that the passing there
Had worn them really about the same,
And both that morning equally lay
In leaves no step had trodden black.
Oh, I kept the first for another day!
Yet knowing how way leads on to way,
I doubted if I should ever come back.
I shall be telling this with a sigh
Somewhere ages and ages hence:
Two roads diverged in a wood, and I—
I took the one less traveled by,
And that has made all the difference.
- The Road Not Taken, Robert Frost