I’ve written before about how time is a fickle beast, it’s fleeting and finicky. I’ve grown accustomed to the notion that tomorrow may never come and that the conversations we have (or fail to) very well may be the last chance we have to say what’s on our minds and in our hearts.
Sometimes though time does this weird warp thing, where things happening in the current time and space throw you into a similar thing from the past. The last three weeks have been filled with such time warp moments: a robbery at work, the loss of a friend, pictures of times past filled with faces that have passed, making new memories in someone’s memory, heartfelt conversations that felt hard, witnessing a car accident in the same intersection that took a friend by the same means, funerals with memorized lines and memorializing items; all while trying to maintain a sense of balance and my footing in motherhood.
Despite the time warp that each of the things listed above threw me into, and the feelings that went along with them, it hasn’t been all bad. There have been absolutely stunning sunrises, I’ve had visits from former co-workers just dropping in to say hi, I received an unexpected hug from a tutor, some love from a couple cute dogs and I basked in the sounds of laughter from my children and the rustling leaves outside. I was also gifted some beautiful sculptures from a dear friend because they reminded her of my kids, and a pot of flowers from someone at work because she said “I saw them and they are just so you, brightening up things where ever you go.” The kind words, the visits, the hugs and the stolen moments of solitude to start the day, all gave me a lump in my throat and many brought a tear to my eye. These were gentle reminders that even when I feel off balance, there’s support.
To say that I’ve been a bit off kilter would be an understatement. I’ve found solace in my relatively new daily routines. I’ve found more peace in the quiet than expected. I’ve been honoring my desire to go within, to process and reflect. I’m grateful for the understanding of my kiddos, who are being shown that it’s okay to feel your feelings. I’ve also found comfort in camaraderie, in small doses.
Last night while gathered around with friends, I learned that a fun trip out to Las Vegas almost claimed the life of one of my most favorite people. His quick thinking and trusting of his own body, coupled with responsive friends, literally saved his life. There’s now concern over paying for the ambulance ride and hospital visit, as well as the tests and whatnot; but I know that will all get sorted out. I couldn’t express the feeling of deep gratitude I had that I could still give him a hug. When he was done telling his tale, I pointed at him “Come here,” I said, “I need to squish you.” He obliged and I hope that the words that wouldn’t fall from my lips were spoken from my heart.
As I drove home after sharing a meal, playing some games and enjoying some laughter, I thought about what could have been our last conversation. I’d called him to wish him a happy birthday, deciding to call rather than text because I knew they were flying out that night for Las Vegas. We chatted briefly, as they were getting ready and I was close to my destination. I wished him happy birthday, told them to have fun and enjoy their trip, to be safe and reminded them that I loved them. “We love you too!” were the parting words as the call ended.
I will admit, I don’t always tell the people I love that I love them, not outright at least. I think there’s a part of me that hopes they already know. I also know that it’s said by myself and others in a myriad of ways: Let me know when you get home, please. Drive safely! How was your day? I miss seeing your smiling face. I saw this and thought of you. There are countless others so please know, if I’ve said any of these things or reached out to you because my spidey senses were tingling, I care about you. You matter and I hope you know you’ve impacted my life in a positive way.
With much love,