Today Is A Good Day ;)

Words cannot express the excitement, anticipation, and hope that I feel today. In fact, right now, I can't even get my mind wrapped around the wonderfulness of this day. It's both humbling and overwhelming to think about what this special time means - not only to America, but to the entire world. So, instead of a rambling, incoherent blog filled with too many exclamation points to count, I'm going to honor our new President by posting a few of his amazing, heartfelt, and intelligent quotes...

"Change will not come if we wait for some other person or some other time. We are the ones we've been waiting for. We are the change that we seek."
-- President Barack H. Obama

"It took a lot of blood, sweat and tears to get to where we are today, but we have just begun. Today we begin in earnest the work of making sure that the world we leave our children is just a little bit better than the one we inhabit today."
-- President Barack H. Obama

"I think how we treat our animals reflects how we treat each other. And it's very important that we have a president who is mindful of the cruelty that is perpetrated on animals."
-- President Barack H. Obama

"If you're walking down the right path and you're willing to keep walking, eventually you'll make progress."
-- President Barack H. Obama

"Focusing your life solely on making a buck shows a certain poverty of ambition. It asks too little of yourself. Because it's only when you hitch your wagon to something larger than yourself that you realize your true potential."
-- President Barack H. Obama

"I've got two daughters. 9 years old and 6 years old. I am going to teach them first of all about values and morals. But if they make a mistake, I don't want them punished with a baby."
-- President Barack H. Obama

And, finally:

"Why can't I just eat my waffle?"
-- President Barack H. Obama

Okay, so that's more than a few... But, in all honesty, I'm beyond excited to see this wonderful man lead our nation. And I'm even more excited to help by showing my unwavering support.

God bless America. God Bless EVERYONE. :)

Random Musings on a Tuesday

I used to think “alone” was good.

As a girl who lost her father to cancer at the tender age of fourteen, I learned early on in life that people come and go. There one minute, gone the next. Fathers, mothers, friends, aunts, uncles, acquaintances, pets, enemies, teachers, co-workers... It didn’t matter who they were, or what they meant to me. Gone at the drop of a hat.

The reasons that people disappeared from my life were never really important. I lost a best friend in the eighth grade due to a misunderstanding over a dinner invitation. Also in the eighth grade (wow, what a traumatic year), a messy divorce cut my sister-in-law clean out of my life. The following year, my freshman year of high school, proved to be no easier - my father died in November and my dog, Holly, who I’d loved unconditionally for eleven years, passed away the following August. The list goes on and on. Misunderstanding, sickness, death, divorce, or simply just the routine act of merely drifting apart... Like I said, the why didn’t matter. All that mattered was that they were gone.

After the first couple of losses, I became extremely guarded. Never quite relinquishing control, I allowed myself to make many acquaintances, but never friends. Keeping everyone at arm's length, I lived a carefully calculated, if not somewhat lonely, existence of complete and utter control. I had say over who came into my life and, more often than not, when it was time for them to “check out.” Because I never allowed myself to get close to anyone, I was never hurt when circumstances turned and I was suddenly minus one. Sure, I experienced a sort of vague, misty sense of loss. But it was more like losing my car keys instead of a trusted friend or family member.

Throughout my twenties, the losses continued - acquaintances, boyfriends, my mother, one of my brothers, co-workers... People flickered in and out of my life like images on a forbidden, un-subscribed-to television station. There one minute. Gone the next. There one minute. Gone the next. There one minute. Gone the next... You get the picture. And it didn’t matter how much someone tried to convince me that I was wrong, that he (or she) would always be around and wasn’t going anywhere. Because I knew the truth. Things change. People change. Life changes. What someone says one minute may not be true the next. For years, I was unreachable. Regardless of what anyone said or did, I was determined to live my life in solitude. And for a long time, I did just that.

Then I met Chris.

Suddenly, life as I knew it was over. My whole existence, once so comfortable and numb, was thrown completely and irrevocably out of whack. The wall that I’d so carefully constructed around myself was broken. Brick by brick, I had let my guard down. Without even realizing it, I’d become vulnerable, exposed. As if waking from a dream, I found myself out in the open, completely unprotected against the harsh elements of human nature.

In the beginning, I was amazed at how differently the time passed with Chris than with anyone else. Hours turned to days, days to weeks, weeks to months, months to years... Until, finally, the years turned into Forever. Chris settled himself into my life so completely that, before I knew it, our souls were intertwined beyond the point of unraveling. Probably due to a strong and stubborn streak, he refused to let me distance myself from him and, as a result, from the world in general. In a nutshell, he saved me from myself.

One of Chris’ favorite things to say to me is, “I’ll prove you wrong.” This statement is always said in jest, and is usually a response to one of my sarcastic comments about “forever not really existing.” But, so far, he really has proved me wrong.

Things change. People change. Life changes. But, because of Chris, I’m okay with that now. I have faith. I experience hope. And, at long last, I have finally found my courage. Because of my husband, I’m able to live a life full of purpose and passion. I no longer dread the parting of ways. Instead I cherish the stroll, the dance, the walk.

Now, I relish the journey.

______________________
Quote of the day:

"Fire scares me, yes, and earthquakes, and venomous snakes. People scare me more than anything, for I know too well the savagery of which humankind is capable." -- Odd Thomas

A Few Resolutions

1. Live a creative, fulfilling life.
2. Take a lot of pictures.
3. Write.

An excerpt from a piece I've been working on. Here's to finishing it...

The smell. She couldn’t get over the smell. It was awful.

Lacy sat on the edge of the hospital bed, feeling sick. Her heart was still hammering, drumming a steady beat-beat-beat in her ears. Every thump, every nerve-shattering pulse, reverberated deep in her bones. And while her skin felt cold and clammy, her muscles were on fire.

And that smell, vaguely resembling a mixture of pine scented disinfecting cleaner and stale urine, caused her to wrinkle her nose while simultaneously fighting brief bouts of nausea.

It was unreal. All of it.

Despite the fact that she had been fighting this battle for the last four months, despite the fact that she had prepared herself for this very outcome, she was scared. Ashamed, she hung her head.

But how can you prepare for something like this? she thought desperately. There’s no way. There’s just no way.

Tears welled, stinging the corners of her eyes. Blinking them back – for she was determined to be strong, if not for herself then for her family – she slid her palm across the stiff bed sheet, silently mustering what little courage she had left. Searching for her father’s hand, she found it, held it tight. The lump in her throat that she had choked down earlier while in the waiting room resurfaced, and for a terrifying moment she couldn’t breathe.

Calm down, calm down, calm down, calm down, she silently instructed herself.

But try as she might, she couldn’t block out the feel of her father’s hand. Cold, limp, and rubbery, it already felt like the hand of a dead man.

Lacy bit her lip, and her palms began to sweat.

Through eyes half blinded by unshed tears, she dared a glance around the room. Sorrow, sadness, and despair settled over the place like storm clouds, pressing away any and all hope.

Directly across from her, sitting on the other side of her father’s deathbed, was her mother. Like her daughter, she refused to give herself completely over to grief, and her grim face, pale in the florescent light of the room, was dry. Her eyes, however, rimmed deep in gray-black circles, spoke volumes.

Her father’s death was going to be hard on everyone, Lacy knew. What she didn’t know was how they were all going to cope.

Behind her, as if reading her mind and therefore knowing how unstable she was both mentally and emotionally, her brother, Michael, laid a hand on her shoulder and squeezed. Her elder by as much as seventeen years, his reassurance usually meant the world to her. But now, sitting by their father as he struggled through his last moments, Lacy came to the unsettling realization that she was beyond even Michael’s help. That even his comforting support wasn’t enough to halt the icy hot pain that was creeping through her gut.

Oh, God… What are we going to do? Lacy’s body ached from months of pent up anxiety, and she felt as if her shoulders were sagging not just from the heaviness of her own stresses, but also from the weight of the entire world.

The atmosphere in the room grew heavier, almost unbearable, and her father’s soft, rhythmic breathing became raspy and uneven. His chest began to heave dramatically and his eyes, shut all day due to the mild coma he had succumbed to in the early morning hours, popped open. Wide-eyed and groggy, he turned his head left then right, searching. Finding and eyeing each family member, he continued to struggle for breath even as his lips murmured unformed words.

Flying up from a chair in the far corner of the room, Lacy’s other brother, Kyle, nervously approached their father’s bed. His hands were shaking, and Lacy could see that his eyes were red. Younger than Michael by only two years, he was by far the more sensitive of the two and seemed to struggle relentlessly with life’s cruelties.

Lacy felt her lips quiver, and bit down hard enough to draw blood. The coppery taste lingered on her tongue, and she wanted to gag.

Even though she was sixteen and a junior in high school, she couldn’t shake the feeling of childish helplessness. As a teenager, she was excited by the fact that she could finally make her own decisions and, carved by her own actions, plow ahead on her desired path in life. But now, so early on in her path to self-discovery, life was teaching her that not everything could be persuaded by the mere power of positive thinking. That some things, like the death of a parent, were still controlled by Fate. And no matter how hard you fought, sometimes you were destined to lose.

Her father’s eyes slid shut, and his breathing slowed. An unearthly silence filled the room.

“He’s gone,” Kyle choked.

Daddy, Lacy pleaded silently. Every ounce of her being begged, prayed, cried out. Oh God, Dad, please don’t go. Daddy, please… She drew in a shuddered breath and waited.

After what seemed like hours, but was in reality only seconds, her father opened his eyes. Unlike before, they were now clear and focused, and he lovingly set them on each member of his family one last time. At that particular moment, time seemed to stand still, and as a single tear rolled down his cheek, he died.