My mom's birthday is coming up. A day that used to inspire joy now comes barreling at me, a reminder that she was too young to go. The idea of milestone birthdays and anniversaries rings more shallow to me now. Don't wait to celebrate. Don't put off a party or a celebration or a vacation together because it's not "a big one". My mom didn't make it to her 60th. This year she would be 63 and I wish I could throw her the biggest damn party she'd ever seen. Or surprise her with tickets to Broadway. Don't push off celebrating. I've been sitting in grief today. I opened the pages of the second volume of Every Moment Holy: Death, Grief, and Hope, a gift from my grandmother. A gift for no occasion. Be like her - buy the gift and send it when you think of someone. Don't wait for a reason or an event. You speak love when you do this. Send the card, text the verse, leave a voicemail. The saved voicemails I have from my mom are...
Using his best Sean Connery imitation, this was Zach's sage advice for me as I whined about my lack of projects during this quarantine. As natural doer, having nothing to do has been rough. To be a doer who's not doing is... "unnerving" as Lumiere puts it in Beauty and the Beas t. Which is why Zach has tried to get me to write, regularly quoting Finding Forester to try and motivate me. The problem is that I don't like to write unless the words are flowing out of my soul with ease. My fingers fly over the keys, barely keeping up with my thoughts, my body feels as though something is quite literally brimming inside of me that is spilling out onto the page. When I don't have words... punching the keys feels like a chore. A discipline. Work. As I thought about it some more, I realized that, while I may not have any new words, there are words I've written that haven't been shared. More correctly, they have only been shared with a very small group of pe...
Despising any kind of stereotype, I swore I would absolutely not be a casualty of the Christian college's "Ring by Spring" stereotype. Which meant I inevitably was. I met Zach during the first semester of our freshman year. Because I had made it my MO to say yes to everything, I ended up helping a friend with his student film - a musical based on Queen's Loverboy, something which Zach had literally been dragged to help with as well. After a final late night practice at the end of the semester, a group of us ended up at the beach where he and I talked for hours. I didn't see him again until 6 weeks later when the Spring semester started. My course-load was much heavier and I quit my friend's film project. Turns out Zach quit the same night I did and called a few days later asking me out. Our first date made an impression to say the least. He met me in the dorm lobby where, upon seeing me, he turned on his heel and said over his shoulder, "I'm park...
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