Last week I chatted with a coworker about his visit to a deprivation chamber. It’s a super small, enclosed tub with no light where you’re supposed to go float and meditate without anything around to stimulate your senses. I think it’s to re-create the feeling of being in the womb, or some crunchy granola hippy thing like that. I asked him how he liked it. “It was cool at first,” he said. “The thing that everyone talks about is that without any…
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…
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…
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…
Last night I cried over a sea otter. I have cried over dog rescue videos, countless horse movies and of course my own pets – but sea otters are a new one. In July of 2006, Tim and I took our first trip together to New Orleans. He grew up in Hattiesburg, Mississippi which is a small town less than two hours from the Big Easy. Even though Tim’s roots were in Mississippi versus Lousiana, he would tell strangers he…
I didn’t cry about Tim’s birthday until I thought about carrot cake. I was driving to Japanese class and thinking about carving pumpkins with my friends after, an event I pulled together so I wouldn’t be sitting at home alone. Building a mental checklist about what I needed to buy at the store, I thought about carrot cake. Tim loved carrot cake. I hate it, because I hate cream cheese icing. I hate it, but I made it or bought…