I hate it when people refer to ages in weeks or months. Like why are babies “61 weeks” instead of a year? I’ll break my own rule and say it’s been 20 months since Tim died. That’s less than two years, more than a year and a half. Every month seems important, so I count them. Maybe it’s the same for weeks with babies. Maybe we measure massive growth in the most finite unite possible. It’s surprising to me how much…
Last night I sat on the porch with my roommate as she scrolled through Facebook on her phone. “I’m over everyone with these ‘I Love Us’ stuff,” she said without looking away from the screen. “What are you talking about?” I replied. “You know how they do profile pictures for holidays, well they have a Valentine’s one that says ‘I Love Us’ with a heart and a ton of people are switching to it.” “Barf.” She giggled on the dark porch….
Last week in a bout of self reflection about the last year, I wrote about the things I did right in 2016. Because this is the internet, I know there was at least one person out there thinking, “Well isn’t she just a little high and mighty.” Don’t worry person – this post is for you! Though I’m proud of a lot of the things I did or attempted last year, there were certainly some areas that need improvement. Neglected…
In a week I’ll turn 32. This time last year, I just wanted my 30th year to be over. I figured no matter what, 31 would be better than 30… and it has been better. Now I apprehensively approach my birthday, and I can’t help thinking that I feel old these days. There is so much behind me at this point, and even more hiding in the blurry future beyond my peripheral. When Tim first died, I thought time would bring…
I spent the majority of my work day yesterday (don’t tell my boss!) responding to comments via email. There were so many sincere, thoughtful and amazing offers of help and support that I didn’t think a “Thanks!” comment left in response on the blog was enough. I’m still not done sending my replies, but am getting there. After work I went home to let the dogs out. I didn’t feel like riding, but pushed myself out to the barn anyway….
There are few perfect places on earth. I’ve had a lot of perfect moments in my life, sometimes in places exotic and beautiful and sometimes not. Standing on Charles’ Bridge in Prague for the first time in my life, when I was eighteen and idealistic and didn’t know enough to know I was untroubled, was a perfect moment. Driving to the beach at 3am with my friends home from college, and splashing in the ocean with frigid white foam spraying…
Leonard Cohen died yesterday. He was 82. This is not a sad post though, because when a an artist leaves a lifetime of beautiful work and parts the world at an old age without drugs, suicide or tragedy it’s something to be celebrated. I’m not sure how many Millennials are familiar with Cohen. I certainly wouldn’t have been if it weren’t for an odd string of events that led me to my favorite songwriter of all time. During high school…
I have greatly underestimated two things in my time on this planet: how truly devastating grief can be and how much people hate Hillary Clinton. Last weekend I went to Vermont. I kept pretty quiet about it to many, but the real reason for that trip was to spread the last of Tim’s ashes mixed with BT’s in a place that was special to us there. I may blog about that, and I may not. While my trip was also filled with…