Today I Am Still


Today I am still.  My phone works, tomorrow is payday, and Saturday I get to spend some time with a friend of almost 35 years.  My car works, I have caffeine in my Yeti, and I have been listening to encouraging music while working.  I am still.  Content in this moment.  I would say that very few emotions are swirling or whirling.  I simply am.

Last night it was not so.  Last night, had I had the energy to get up and dig out my laptop to write, I would have filled the page with raw emotion that may or may not have been cohesive. In fact, I composed on imaginary paper in my head, and filled it with my innermost feels, and hopes, and hurts, and longings with fairly eloquent words, given that they were not actually written down anywhere.

Now, though, I cannot recall them.  I recall the theme.  I recall that there were tears in my eyes, and I was silently crying out as I pretended to write.  I know there were things I wanted and hoped for and felt like giving up on and regretted and couldn’t let go of.  But trying to pull them out from under the calmness of today seems tiring.  Or maybe it seems perilous.

The days, you see, are very full.  I have a career, a family, a life, stresses, duties, pursuits.  They all fill that thing that needs to be filled.  And there is music or television or – Lord help us all – Pokemon Go (smile).  But at night…. well, at night when there is nothing engaging on television, and sleep won’t come, and the brain begins to think….

But never mind that.  Today I am still.


The Time Machine


She stumbled upon a time machine.  It was sitting in a field, seemingly unnoticed by everyone else.  Walking around it slowly…one time, two times, three times, she wondered if it was real.  It certainly seemed real.  It had clocks and whirly things and buttons and lights and even a flux capacitor.

After looking to the left and right to make sure no one saw her, she slipped inside.

Now, most people, upon entering a time machine, would ponder at length over where – or when – to go.  She did not.  She knew exactly where she would go.  She turned the dials and pushed the buttons and fastened her seat-belt (for time travel can be bumpy).

It was a July afternoon, a hot July afternoon.  And her life was about to change.  The limbo that had been her days was about to end, and she had a choice.  She had several choices, actually, but one loomed above them all.

So she took it.  She congratulated and smiled and took a deep breath.  Then she peeled off her fears and turned toward him.  She told him she wanted him, she wanted life with him, she wanted time with him.  She asked if he wanted the same things.  She risked herself.


And he said yes.  He said a resounding yes.  So she ran to him and embraced him and started the rest of her days, leaving the time machine behind.  She’d never need it again.

If only the time machine had been real…

The Beauty of Love…All Love


The following post has inspired me to think and reflect:

I was an “all-in” child. I loved and trusted my parents without reservation, and they loved back.  I loved my friends, shared all, played with abandon.  I sent more “I like you do you like me” notes in those prepubescent “crush” years than I can count.  It could be worth pointing out that due to an early growth spurt, a need for glasses, and a series of unfortunate haircuts, not one note came back with “yes” checked (smiles).  Not that that stopped me, of course, from sending one to someone else.

I was sheltered in high school.  Looking back, it was a blessing.  I was a passionate person.  It manifested in dreams and the arts and secret writings.  It was evident in the electricity that shot down my spine when the focus of my affection simply took my hand.  I may have a few resentments over my strict church, but all those warnings probably did prevent me from becoming a potential star on a 1980’s version of Teen Mom!

I’ll spare a play by play of my young and middle adulthood and skip to the end.  I agree with the cited post.  I believe in all-out love.  Otherwise, what’s the point?  If I am going to eat Birthday Cake, as an analogy, I’m going to ask for a corner piece with a rose and lots of icing. J Loving should not be done in half measures.  It’s a waste of beauty.  I have loved….4 times in my life.  One of those loves is still alive in my heart, and I’m going to let it fade in its own time; even unrequited love has value, after all.  But I loved all four times with as much of me as I was able.  The first time was young and dreamy eyed and maybe a bit shallow, but with all the passion a 20-something was capable of (which isn’t as much as they think).  My second began with abandon, and then in order to try to preserve it, the abandon was replaced with caution….but still I loved.  The third time was a reawakening, not meant to be forever but a re-acquaintance with the idea that openness and passion were good things.  The last….the last was an unexpected mixture of laughter and abandon and depth and passion and friendship and getting to experience all the parts of myself present and loving for the first time.  It is the love against which all future loves would be measured.

With every one of those loves there has been pain, along with the lesser pains of those “not-quite-loves” most of us have.  And you know what?  I’ll love again.  I’ll love with abandon.  I’ll choose to open, choose to trust, and choose to give.  And maybe it will be forever. And maybe I will hurt again.

But loving is worth it.  And I am happy and blessed to have experienced it.