Unconditionally

My dear neighbor of nearly 14 years had cancer for about four. Her insides were horrific, but she was the strongest woman on the out. It was mostly because she was so stubborn. She would never show her weaknesses, in body or mind. She made us all wear those Livestrong bracelets. When she caught me without mine, she scolded and gave me another. I never took the thing off, not for an involved workout or formal event. When I was away for New Years, I was sitting on the couch and fiddling, as I always do. The bracelet suddenly popped. I wasn't even tugging with much force, but it snapped, right between the words live and strong.

I called my Mom from the airport as I was arriving home, and she asked me to come by the antique mall where she works so she could see me. My mom is very loving and affectionate and involved, so I thought she just missed me and wanted to hear about my trip. I called her as I was approaching the parking lot, and she met me outside. "Sweetie," she said as she approached me with a pitied look and arms outstretched, "Mrs. Judy is dead."

The weird thing was that it happened on the day my bracelet went. I'm not religious- but, that gave me the biggest shiver and strangest feeling, and I wondered about whether it was a mere coincidence.

You never think about it, but parents have the most horrible, noble job of having to inform you when someone dies. There is no sadder, more difficult job than that. Even when my Grammy died, which was probably the most sobering event to happen to my mother besides the sudden death of her father, I remember her being so strong. She sat on the couch, pulled me to her, and whispered the words that Grammy was gone. "Oh, honey," she cried as I became hysterical. And it was that reaction that amazed me so and amazes me still. Despite whatever heartbreak and sorrow and devastation she was feeling, she was more worried about me and the hurt I was feeling.

When I had gotten my heart broken for the second time and called my mother crying, she ended up crying too.

"If I could take away your pain and feel it for you, I would."

What a thing to say, you know? The thing is, she really meant it. Sure, we've all had times where we felt so sad, so sorry, for a loved one or dear friend when they were going through hard stuff. But to be willing to take it and feel it in order to relieve the pain of another--that's something truly fascinating to me.

Little Miss Piggy

I sifted through a collection of home videos the other day. We have a lot, because we lived overseas my first two years and my parents would make tapes to send Grammy and the relatives. Every Easter, my parents would hide all kinds of candies around the apartment- Cadbury eggs, malt balls, chocolate squares- and Sister and I would take our wicker baskets and search. Sister, being older, could easily see the hidden sweets, but instead of snatching them and adding them to her basket, she would call over to me and tell me to help her look around the area she stood. I would come over eagerly and hoard all of the candy she caused me to find. I never caught on. Nor did she ever tire of me. She would become really excited and continued to lead me this way until I had found most of the candy. Before the scene cuts on the film, Sister begins to unwrap a chocolate from her pile. I walk to her, release a whine, and steal the candy from her hands. My parents reprimand me. Sister leans in toward my face and kisses my forehead as I walk away, chewing.

Love Letter

Dear Older Version of Me,

I am sorry for all of the things that I did to make life worse for you. For example, all of the sleep I cost you and sunscreen I dismissed--I apologize for those. I apologize for listening to my music much louder than necessary and for choosing not to floss, besides the week before and after a dental appointment. I'm sorry for staring at the computer screen for hours and for scrunching my face and causing you those well-defined forehead folds. I wish I would've spent some money on those memory vitamins or strong sports bras, because I'm sure the dragging and sagging damage has been done. And that time I drank too much and then fell onto my left shoulder, forgetting to properly clean the thing for nearly two days and ending up with a 3-inch scar...yeah, I'm sorry for that now, too.

But, if it is any consolation, the younger you did do some great things. I tried things that made me scared. I said no. I said yes. I felt things, right to the heart. I hurt. I healed. I did a lot of things. Some of them made it possible for you to do more things now. Some things made others more difficult. What is important is that- even if I had the chance- I wouldn't do any of those things differently. I know you probably think otherwise, being "older" and "wiser." But, as you also know, that thing known as regret...can shorten a life. And we wouldn't want that now, would we?

Love and life,
Me

Steady

The balloon fills. It stretches and expands, unable to resist the force of water. First, dripping. Then, a steady trickle. An even pour. A rushing stream. A forceful downpour. A waterfall.

Water.
Fall.

A needle's point pierces the surface, to allow relieving leak.

But when the needle pricks, the container bursts, and its contents explode outward, soaking everything around the broken skin.