...and so it shall be

The 3rd of July

2008-07-03T18:47:00.000-07:00

I stepped barefoot onto my balcony and became surrounded in this beautiful orangish-gold glow as the sun made its evening decent. As I sat down, I carefully ripped open the paper around my ice cream cone. It dripped down my hand the same way it did when I was five. And...I licked it off the same way I did when I was five.

"What a..." I almost said "What a day" but instead I finished it in "...life". "What a life" I said. I admired the flowers that I had planted in my little outdoor garden and continued enjoying my ice cream cone. It was a Thursday evening...the 3rd of July.

The morning started at 7 am when I was awakened by a phone call from my boyfriend. I love waking up to him. I was barely conscious but I didn't care because I had his voice in my ear. Our call ended as I crept out of bed and quickly dressed to go take my final exam for my Political Science class. My phone rang again...my boyfriend again. "I forgot to tell you something! I love you" he said. And...I smiled.

Coffee was on my mind as I started my car. "Coffee time!" I stopped on my way to school for a nice hot cup of coffee and was ready to complete my summer semester. The exam went great. I finished early, thanked the professor and headed back out through the doors into the sunlight. I decided to celebrate my own success and treated myself to breakfast at a little outdoor garden cafe a couple of miles away. An omelet and potatoes and a big glass of fresh orange juice. I looked around and realized that I was surrounded in beauty. The courtyard had two fountains and a small waterfall...brick pathways...vines...flowers...it was gorgeous. Life was amazing. Everything surrounding me was great but something inside of me was...well...was not great. I could not put my finger on it.

It started about a month ago. These feelings. I finished my Spring semester and had earned grades that I was happy with. I was one step closer to finishing something I had started and taken for granted 7 years ago. But things were different now. I realized that I was incredibly focused. So focused that it was almost scary. I knew where I was in life...where I had been...and where I wanted to go. Everything was amazing. I had met some new girlfriends that I had been spending time with...work was great. I had been saving money. I loved paying my bills each payday and having money left over to put in the bank. I got a phone call from work asking me to travel to Texas to train some new employees. I was thrilled. Wow...me...traveling for my company...! It's something I had always wanted to do. I got my corporate credit card in the mail and the following day I found myself on a plane to Texas. Everything was just going so perfect...too perfect.

Wait...! Why me? Why is everything so incredibly amazing? I looked back over the past twelve months and realized how much I had grown and how I've taken myself up this staircase called life. Things that I had been waiting for were now happening and it made me feel extremely...uncomfortable?

Weird that great things would make me feel uncomfortable. I tried to explain it...I tried to put the feelings into words but I had a difficult time.

Another great thing happened...my company asked me to possibly go to the Philippines for 4 months to train more people. Wow...the Philippines? I love to travel and this was the perfect opportunity to get away for awhile and to come back with a great addition to my resume.

I was overloaded with all of these wonderful opportunities and yet...I was...uneasy. I continued seeking an explanation for my feelings but I could not find one. I could only think of this...

I was on this staircase going up several floors and I became weary because the stairs seemed to go no where. There were even times I would go up a flight of stairs and find myself a floor lower than I was before. It made no sense. So...I stopped. I stood on one particular stair for so long that I became comfortable with my little stair. I knew how it felt below my feet. I knew exactly how much room I had to stand on. I could turn around and I already knew what my view was like from that particular stair. And then it happened. I took a step...one step up and then another. As I moved up...stair by stair...I found myself in a new place...on a new stair that I had never been on before. It didn't feel the same below my feet...the view was different...it was something new and exciting and yet I was...afraid. Of what? I wasn't sure. Maybe failure...maybe the possiblity that it was temporary...or maybe it was the fact that I was becoming the person I wanted to be but convinced myself that I couldn't.

I took the last bite of my ice cream cone and the golden glow slowly faded as the sun decended behind the trees. I gathered some pieces of wood and piled them into my little terracota firepit and gently lit a match. I sat down right next to the fire and watched the flames magically dance around. I loved the smell of burning wood. It reminded of roasting marshmallows as a child when we used to go camping.

As I became hyptnotized by the flames, I thought about my 3rd of July "Wow what a simply amazing..." I almost wanted to say "day" but instead I said "life". "What an amazing life."

I could not be frightened by success. It would be different...my life. I would do better than I had imagined but I would not be afraid of change.

"What a life" I thought...and I stayed there until the fire died down on the 3rd of July.

grandma and grandpa

2008-05-07T09:32:00.000-07:00

While I sat in a small booth at IHOP...I stared across the table at my Grandma and Grandpa as we enjoyed breakfast and coffee on a typical Wednesday morning.

And I realized...they amaze me.

I'm not sure if it is the fact they have been married for 51 years. Maybe it's their stories that they tell of days before my time. Maybe it's the way they make me feel as if I'm the most important person on earth. I haven't quite figured it out yet but they amaze me.

They ordered their usual decaf coffee and Grandpa submitted his typical "This booth is too small" complaint.

As we settled into our "too small" booth the wonderful smell of coffee and fried bacon filled the air. There we sat, my aging grandparents...and me.

When I was just a child, just four years old, I remember hanging out with my grandfather...doing important stuff like...eating cheese and crackers...watching TV...and drining soda. Once in awhile he would take me into the kitchen and sit me at the table with a pad of paper and a pencil. He taught me how to write my name in cursive...how to draw a rose...how to love my Grandpa. He always smelled good...like English Leather and kept his fingernails neatly manicured.

Then there is my Grandma. The woman that is famous for matching her clothes by color. Not necessarily match as in "match" but match as is green socks, green pants, green sweater, green earrings, and to top it off...green tennis shoes...all different shades of green. But...nevertheless, beautiful. She has always had a nak for crossword puzzles and guessing the phrases on Wheel of Fortune. My Grandma may be the only person that I have met in my lifetime that is the true definition of selflessness. I know there has not been one day in her life that she has put her needs in front of someone else's.

"They just don't make these booths for full-figured people" my Grandpa grumbled. "Oh be quiet" my Grandma responded. The waitress set down our breakfast orders and we began to do our favorite thing, eat. My Grandpa is a food artist. You may be wondering, "What in the heck is a good artist?". Well, I will tell you. He generally begins with this fork and knife and gracefully cuts up each thing on his plate. Gently folding his napkin, he arranges to his liking and carefully sprinkles the salt and pepper as if one shake too many would ruin the entire plate. And do not think for one second that one food is touching another...everything is neatly displayed on his plate as if it were that picture on the cover of a menu. Usually this routine lasts about 5 minutes and then he begins to eat. My Grandma and I were pratically finished by time my Grandpa wrapped up his routine.

I took this opportunity to present them with my exciting idea to leave Saint Louis and move to Chicago to finish up my degree in Urban Planning. And so I began. I explained my detailed plan of my move and shared my excitement in my decision to study Urban Planning after going through several years of life without knowing what I wanted to do. I brought up how I was fortunate that I discovered my passion before enrolling into the Nursing program at my school (which is where my path was headed a little less than a year ago). I went into further detail about volunteering with the The Old North Saint Louis Restoration Group in order to gain experience in my future career. I went on and on and on about how I've read everything I can about the school and how I've been saving my money so I can afford the move. "I love Chicago" I said with a smile on my face. And then I waited for their response...

"You know what a good job is? I'll tell you what a good job is. Physical Therapy!" my Grandpa said. "They need physical therapists...it's a good job..."

"Chicago, huh?" my Grandma said. "You've always loved Chicago...that's great"...and she smiled.

How have these two people been married for 51 years, I thought to myself.

As you are reading this...you may be wondering if my Grandpa's remark hurt my feelings...or the fact that he completely ignored everything that I said, bothered me. Well...no it did not. Because my Grandpa, after listening to my entire speech, did not hear a plan...he heard a dream. And, I've known for a long time that my Grandpa was never a dreamer he has always been a true realist. But regardless, I can appreciate that and I can definitely appreciate him and I love him anyway.

Most of my time that I spend with my Grandparents is spent in this very same way. We are usually eating, my Grandpa is usually talking but not listening and my Grandma is usually interrupting him which makes him mad but she doesn't care. And I love it.

After breakfast at IHOP, I kissed my Grandpa and Grandma good-bye and thanked them for breakfast. I left them as they got into the car and I made my way to work with a full belly. And I'm not sure why...but I cried. I cried because I loved their overly green outfits and grumbling comments. I cried because I look back at my 25 years and their two smiling faces have been there all the way. I cried because I realized that I could never have enough breakfasts with them that would make me certain that I would not miss them when they are gone. I cried because life is temporary.

I got to work and sat in the parking lot for a few minutes as I forced myself to realize that I can't go crying about the fact that my Grandparents are...well...old. I sat there and could still smell the English Leather tickling my nose.

How have they been married for 51 years? I'm not sure how but I do know one thing...

...they amaze me.

...my time

2008-05-05T15:22:00.000-07:00

The other day I heard something great that really made me put my entire life into perspective. Someone was talking about life goals and how certain goals are tied into age groups…for example, getting married, going to college, having a child, starting a career…etc. However, these are simply “ideas” of how things should be but not necessarily the “right” way or time for each person’s life.

My Mom…although I love her very much, once told me that she wished I would just make up my mind on what I want to do with my life. She asked that I just complete “something” and follow through with it. I felt that my time had run out to pursue my goals and dreams that I had made for myself a long time ago. My Mom meant well but I know that she was talking from what she knew and not what she felt I was truly capable of. It is funny how even as a grown adult my life is lived to make my mom proud.

I’ve been going to school and balancing work for three years now and will transfer next year to finish up my degree. I’ve been putting back money little by little with the idea in mind to pursue my dream of going to school in Chicago and working minimally while I truly enjoy my classes and what I’ve chosen to study. So…I’ll be twenty-six years old and living in a college dorm but I’m okay with that. I’ll give up my little one bedroom apartment in the city that I have fallen in love with to share a little two bedroom efficiency with a fellow student. I will give my car to my little sister and head up to Chicago with my suitcases and my 10-speed bicycle. Sure…I might be the only female student starting my anti-wrinkle crème regiment each evening but I’ve accepted that and will proudly study for my exams with my L’Oreal Revitalift on every night.

Some goals do not necessarily get put aside they simply get rearranged in life. There is no “right time” to do something, there is only “my time” and when it is right for me then it is right for me.

no more regrets...

2008-04-30T12:29:00.000-07:00

I really wish I would have gone to my junior prom.

I was warned more than once, "One day you will wish you would have gone." but of course, I didn't believe it anyway. So...I really wish I would have gone to my junior prom.

As I sit here at my computer and look down at my 25 year old fingers, that were once 18 year old fingers and before that were 5 year old fingers, I have found myself at a place in my life that seems overwhelmingly amazing yet frightening at the same time. I look back at my 25 years and realize (as most do) a string of regrets that seems to stretch forever. The "I wish I would haves" and the "Why didn't I's" never stop...until now.

I'm sitting at my cubicle, crowned by a canopy of florescent office lights and can quietly hear the tap-tapping of keyboards around me. Small cups of thumb tacs, staples, and ink pens adorn my desk. Over to my right I placed a book titled, "Insprirational Quotes" hoping that it would provide me with the peace that I am in need of. The vent above is blowing cold air directly on my back, although it is only April and 70 degrees outside. I never understood why offices were so cold. Everything in this office is either gray, light gray, dark gray, or black...just an overall wish wash of neutrality.

So here are these hands in front of me. My own two hands that have, during my lifetime, held onto my Mom, covered my mouth when I laughed as a child, did cartwheels in the summer grass, dug holes in the dirt, wiped my tears away, hit my brother when we were little. Here are my own two hands that have done a million pages of homework, sewed buttons on my shirts, held my little sister when she was born, played with worms in the backyard when I was little, made darn good apple pies, and planted my own garden. As I stare down, I've realized that these hands have tightly held a plane ticket to Europe, have collected sea shells in the sand, have wrote many frilly love letters and a couple of hate letters as well. It's funny when you look at your own body and realize where it has been and how it has grown.

So as I have observed my hands and where they have been and what they have done in my lifetime...I think about what amazing things I am capable of...what amazing things that perhaps my hands were made to do. So with that said, I feel that after twenty five years, I am ready to fall backwards with my eyes closed and live without regrets. The definition of regret is: To feel sadness about something, or feel a sense of loss and longing for somebody or something that is no longer there. The feeling of sadness is the realization that you cannot go back and change what has already been done. Therefore, I will start now after twenty five years to live without regrets.