Couldn't have said it better myself

More often than not, I love literature because someone was able to say what I could not find the words to express.

From the Time Traveler's Wife, quoting Rainer Maria Rilke (who must have said it better than Audrey Niffengegger could have ever imagined) :

Oh not because happiness exists,

that too-hasty profit snatched from approaching loss.

But because truly being here is so much; because everything here

apparently needs us, this fleeting world, which in some strange way

keeps calling to us. Us, the most fleeting of all.

...Ah, but what we take along

into that other realm? Not the art of looking,

which is learned so slowly, and nothing that happened here. Nothing.

The sufferings, then. And, above all, the heaviness,

and the long experience of love, - just what is wholly

unsayable.

Please, read it again. And then again. Again and again.

It starts in my toes, and it crinkles my nose...

The best thing about summer vacation is not sleeping in. It isn't the beach or being pool-side with a florid little beverage. It isn't the extra time to read (even now, that's hard for me to write) or the stress- free afternoons of deciding what to do. The best thing about summer, for me, is the time it gives me to appreciate the allure of being alive.

Yesterday, I sat on the couch of our living room. I was reading a book which happen to be about love and put me in an overly whimsical mood. It was warm, but the breeze that blew through the windows was the perfect reprieve from the sticky, languid afternoon. I closed my eyes and could hear the chirping of birds (ah, how I wished I could identify them by their songs, like my dad), the barking of dogs, and the sounds of children shrieking as they jumped in the pool, over and over again. Dan was hammering away in our home and I couldn't help but feel happy. I wanted to write. To jump. To dance. To savor the moment as best as I could. I walked up to Dan and kissed him and told him I loved him more than ever.

I love that he didn't ask me where that came from - that we have this exchange enough that he is accustomed to it. That a kiss and an admission of love was ordinary. It made me feel that much more alive.

Summer is about to end. My disposition will surely return to one of stress and trepidation. But tonight I have a glass of wine, a heart brimming with happiness, an amazing letter of gratitude from my brother, a husband I love dearly, the warm summer air, and a happy, happy soul. Who could ask for more?

I am the Luckiest

Yesterday was our first anniversary. I had mentioned that it would be great if we could make a trip back to Humphrey's on July 19th so we could recall all the amazing memories of our wedding day. Dan did even better. He made reservations at the hotel's restaurant so we could eat at the same time we were married. He also planned for us to stay the night which was really special because I wanted to have some wine and not worry about driving home. Right before we left for dinner Dan explained that he bought be a "traditional" wedding gift and a "modern" one. I wasn't really sure what that meant but I do now. Paper and clock, respectively. I opened the modern one first and it was the crystal heart clock engraved in the picture above. It has our names on it and our wedding date. It was so sweet of him to think of something AHEAD of time because he is usually pretty last minute (I love you!) The second one was tickets to the Jewel concert which was later the same night. As soon as I saw those, I cried. First of all, he doesn't particularly like Jewel so it was most definitely all for me. Secondly, it hit me like a ton of bricks that I really do have the kindest, most considerate husband in the whole world. I know we have years of marriage ahead, but I couldn't ask for one-single-tiny-little-change in who he is and how he treats me.
Beautiful Humphrey's

Enjoying the warm (very warm) evening.

Dan got black tar on his shirt so he had to wear a t-shirt to dinner. He made a point to find another guy in the restaurant who had a similar outfit as him. There was one. He was eating dinner alone.

One year later in the same place we exchanged our vows. I am not so naive to believe we will never have struggles BUT since I am recently in the business of appreciating what I have NOW, I will say that I am indeed, just as our wedding song proclaimed, the luckiest. I love you, Dan, so very much. I am grateful for you every single day of my life and for once am at a loss for words to describe just how deeply I need you and how much I respect you. To be married to a man as generous, kind, thoughtful, and beautiful as you is a blessing I cannot begin to make sense of.

I am the luckiest.

I believe in God, only I spell it Nature.

I'm not one of those people that believe everything happens for a reason. I just can't. I mean, my uncle was killed by a drunk driver while his wife was pregnant. A day-care caught on fire in Mexico. Children are beaten. People are starving. There is no reason for pain like that - regardless of the lesson learned. No reason.

But I do believe in happy accidents. Random coincidences that happen just when you need them most. Mine was Big Sur.

Reading can only do so much for loss. Sometimes what you need - what I needed - was a big dose of nature.

In Big Sur, I found myself with a renewed understanding of why things happen. There is something about hiking through the redwoods among deer, buzzards, lizards and raccoons to the edge of cliff watching sea otters chase schools of fish that made me realize that the world is so much larger than my own little life. (And don't it make you sad to know that life, is more than who we are). That sometimes things happen because of mistakes, because of careless behavior, because of hard work, because of love, and sometimes, because of no reason at all.

I don't know why this comforts me, but it does. I take refuge in knowing that the sound of the ocean calms my racing mind. That the fresh air clears my thoughts. That the gargantuan trees have been there for years before me and will remain years after me. That the white sand that was once a rock might someday be stuck between the toes of a baby born years after I am gone.

I don't need to make sense of everything that happens. I find it somewhat arrogant to believe that God would bless me with all these comforts while so many (so, so many) have nothing at all. Instead, I want to always be able to appreciate my life for what it is. To stop looking to the future in what may one day be and start loving what is now. To seek sanctuary in the uncontrollable beauty of the world.

Shall I Compare Thee to a Summer's Day?

Thou art more lovely and more temperate.

Rough winds do shake the darling buds of May,

And summer's lease hath all too short a date.


A little Shakespeare, a little sun. A LOT of fun.

Sisterhood of the Night disguised as Bunco

I remember the first time my mom told me she was joining a bunco group. Yikes, I thought. She's old. It reminded me of bridge. Or cribbage. Or dentures.

Well, this bunco group, as it turns out, is still together (13 years later) and they have added vacations, spa days, morning walks, phone calls, 4th of July parties and bridal showers to their agendas. Hmmmm, I thought, kinda cool.

So, loving tradition and our beautiful mothers, the daughters of the "Bunco Babes" (as they like to call themselves) decided we should all get together for a night of our own. We have been embraced by this "Motherhood of the Bunco Babes" and figured it would be nice to have a night to really get to know one another. Sure, we don't all know each other, but neither did they.

Our first official Bunco Night was June 30, 2009. I am recording the date because it's going to be the first of many. We have already planned the next two months and can't wait for our private little daughter party. We still have a lot to learn - What are we going to call ourselves? What is our signature shot going to be? Where will be OUR place to vacation? I would give details about our first fabulous night together but the first lesson our mothers taught us is one we vow to follow: "Whatever happens at bunco, stays at bunco."

Until next time sisters - YaYa.

The Awakening

I find it interesting the different ways in which people deal with loss. Some eat, some starve. Some cry, others are numb. Some people need to talk, others find it impossible. Me - I read.

I escape to a world in which all my thoughts and feelings are neatly written down. I can read the same words over and over again. I can write them down and bring them to bed with me and cry into them. I can focus my jumbled, chaotic thoughts into a few lines that make sense. I can float away with them.

I haven't written since April. Words are hard to find when my heart feels broken. But tonight, after a day with my best friends, I came home and took a shower. (Yes Dad, rebirth). I put on a nightgown, sat on the balcony off my bedroom and began to read. I don't know - a few beautiful lines, the sun setting, music from my neighbors yard - and I felt like writing.

I think I'm back. A little tougher, a little more cautious, and a lot more appreciative.

Thank you dear Louis De Berniere, for your beautiful words - "We have deep memories. Whether they make us sad or glad is up to us."

Yes, yes. You've said it perfectly. I choose the latter.