Monday, June 23, 2014

defining security, defining comfort...


It’s in the scent of morning coffee, sitting on your living room couch with your cat curled up in a ball next to you. It’s in the way she knows if you’re sick or tired, or when you just need her warmth.

               It’s the way the clock looks at 5:00pm when you’ve just accomplished a busy day at work.

               It’s in being able to call your best friend and hearing her ask “what’s wrong?” before you can even get past the “Are you busy?”

               It’s in the stories your mother tells you about her childhood home and about your grandparents. They’re stories you’ve certainly heard before, but somehow they mean more each time.

               It’s in the way your father can make you laugh harder than anyone on the planet, and it’s in the feeling you get when you sigh and chuckle to yourself, recognizing that you’re a lot more like him than you thought.

               It’s in meeting new people in your boyfriend’s family and realizing you’re so lucky to be a part of such a down to earth collection of people.

               It’s in the feeling of going broke on pay day, but noticing the weight off your shoulders after your bills have been paid.

               It’s the taste of that first sip of a cold beer on a 80° summer day. It’s also in the reminder that you’re 27 now, and you know you’ll be hung over as hell the next morning, but that you just won’t care because drunken memories and the smell of a bonfire in your hair means you’ve had a perfect night.

               It’s in the way you wrap your body around your boyfriend when you wake up in the middle of the night and realize you still have time to sleep before your alarm goes off.

               It’s the fact that even if you only had 2 minutes to sleep, you’d still wrap your body around his the same way.

               It’s in the way you feel the day your sister calls to tell you she’s coming home to visit, and it’s in the emptiness you feel when she leaves.

               It’s also in knowing your sister has found someone who can love her almost as much as you do for the rest of her life.

               It’s in the pictures on your apartment walls. The constant compliments on your shower curtain. It’s in the way your kitchen always smells like your favorite Yankee Candle. It’s in knowing that you might not be living in a castle, but that you still feel like a queen when you come home to your king every night.

               It’s in this blog, and knowing people are reading it. It’s in the fact that people care enough about my little thoughts. 

Wednesday, June 18, 2014

When you are happy...

This is our big chance to see what people think of us. 
The real us. 
We have to show 'em there's nothing to be afraid of. 

I looked at other couples and wondered how they could be so calm about it. 
They held hands as if they weren't even holding hands. 
When he and I hold hands, I have to keep looking down to marvel at it. 
There is my hand, the same hand I've always had - but what is it holding?
 It's holding his hand!
Each day I wonder what happens next. 
What happens when you stop wanting, when you are happy. 
I suppose I will go on being happy forever..."
-Miranda July

Tuesday, June 10, 2014

The Coming And The Going

"She wondered what it would be like 
to live in a world where it was always June..." 
-LM Montgomery

I feel like it was just yesterday I was fifteen years old, not feeling quite like a child anymore, but certainly not an adult yet either. I vividly remember craving summer nights of cruising around in cars with my friends, windows down, our music blaring through quiet neighborhoods. I yearned for summer nights on the sand, catching a good buzz off some cheap strawberry wine, not worrying about a curfew or having to call my parents. I wanted winter, but only for my birthday, and when that passed, I wanted summer. I wanted it to be summer every single day of my life. I wanted it now.

"Dad, I can't wait to be an adult and take days off from work in June to go on trips and go to the beach and do whatever I want",  I would scream on cold, frustrating nights full of homework and fights with my sister or girlfriends.

"Don't wish your life away", he always said.

Now I'm 27, and it seems like I still wait all year for summer. Every December, even when my brain is decorated with holiday cheer, excitement for family to visit, and anticipation of the first snowfall, I find myself asking people, even strangers, is it summer yet??? They tell me no, but that Christmas is almost here, then comes the new year, and before you know it, summer will fly by and we'll be back here to this spot again. Really? Can't we just live in a world full of morning dew, tan feet, pool days, and endless bonfires? Can't we, can't we?

When June arrived this year, as usual, I took out my calendar, and planned trips and days off from work to do whatever I want. In fact, I'm doing exactly that this Friday to celebrate my boyfriend's birthday. I'm an adult now, I can do that!! It's June, and it's almost officially summer, and I can get tan and stay out all night on the weekends and go to concerts and games and cookouts and everything else. And just other day, driving home from work anxious to beat the traffic and get home early enough, I called my dad. "Dad, I can't wait for Friday. I can't wait for my sunburn to fade. I can't wait for next weekend. I can't wait for the 4th of July, and August, and the whole Summer needs to get here now!! I can't wait!!"

"Don't wish your life away," he said again. "Not while you're young. Time is everything, and you have a lot of it..." And suddenly, I was back in my old house, a fifteen year old girl, confiding in my diary that no one understood me. That I needed a break, that I needed peace. That I needed it to be June when school was over for a couple months.

And with that memory came the bold realization that more than twelve years have passed since those confusing nights when I felt like no one got me. I really wish I could tell my fifteen year old self what I know now. June will come. It always does. And it will leave, but it will come again. 

With my phone wedged between my shoulder and neck, hands clenched on the steering wheel, I felt my throat get dry, a pause in my voice. "I know Dad, thanks for reminding me. You always have the best advice..."