tomato

There's a little green ball hanging on my tomato plant that drew me close this morning. 

It's the first tomato I've ever grown. 

:)

Save sacrifice

I think it's safe to say that sacrifice is one of things that no one likes to do. Some of us do it with gritted teeth, while others may do it with out even realizing the act. 

There's something to be said about the realization of your self. Those moments you just feel utterly and completely comfortable in your own skin; that an ounce of sunshine and a slight breeze is the only thing missing to make  the day complete.

The contentment that can be found in realizing you have every day to explore your interests, you likes/dislikes, and the ever-changing path they may lead you down.

I'm experiencing it for the first time in my life and I'm twenty-four years old. Every day feels more liberating than the last; like I'm living the largest choose your adventure book and can't wait for the next day to pick a new page to turn to and see where it leads me.

It permits adventure; it makes me feel spontaneous, capable, and like I'm finally reaping a sense of self entitlement. I've spent so much of my life so worried about other people and compromising my wants and needs to fulfill others, it's rather refreshing to have a clear path with no other vested interests.

I smile today because I'm finally learning how to make MYSELF happy. . . and it doesn't seem to take much.
:)

When words don't work

Yesterday was not the first time I've stumbled for words to offer a parent grieving the loss of their child, but it certainly doesn't make the task any easier to attempt.

The sobs they let out in my arms made me feel our roles had swapped, and I was the parent consoling a skinned-kneed child. If only I could make it all better for them with a band-aid and a lollypop, these last few days would have offered me much more peace than the little bit I'm biting onto. 

The unexpected resurrection of a feeling that can only blur and swirl around a sense of , "why." 

Regardless of stipulation, the predictions, best guesses, and eventual bitter swallow of  acceptance of the fact that there will never be an answer.  

Sometimes even the most carefully selected words can't offer the comfort of hugs. 

So, I gave them instead. 

And even for just that moment, we were able to smile. 

patch of sunshine

We turned the soil, dug holes, and planted petunias and basil. 

It's my first little garden at the base of my porch steps that the sun shines on like a spotlight. 

My mom helped me plant it Wednesday just before the sunset. 

Now I can't stop looking over my shoulder, as I write from my porch, to check out the little patch of sunshine we made.

choose your adjectives

My alarm went off at 6 a.m. and I wanted to throw it across the room. 

I turned it off and rolled over, and my conscious immediately reminded me of my friend's question yesterday; 

"Everyone decides when to start their journey. The question is, are you ready for yours?"

Naturally, I enthusiastically said, "Yes" with out giving it much more thought. 

I ran a half-marathon four days ago and already found myself wondering, " Now what."

We are the result of our ambition, our desires, our experiences and our passions. 

We can be passive. We can be docile. We can be obedient. 

We can wait for life to happen to us. 

I choose a little differently. 

I choose to be aggressive, zestful, enthusiastic, and vivacious.

It makes my days a little more interesting and...well.. they're just more acoustically pleasing adjectives.

13.1 miles

I started the race with Lori, she wore a white ribbon that said " Mom," mine said " Dad."

Blackbird started singing in my ears just before mile 8- and I looked to my left and saw Alyssa and Lauren cheering for me on the sidewalk.

I stopped for hugs, smiles, and encouragement. She offered all of it. Her presence has such an amazing way of making me feel like I can accomplish anything, and I found myself running off with anticipation of her greeting me at the finish line.

Just after Mile 9- my Mom was jumping up and down cheering for me and as dehydrated as the 90 degree sun made me, I felt my eyes well up with tears.

The miles blurred from 9 to 12, but then I was back on the boardwalk, running with the beach alongside of me, listening to " Every step you take...".

I felt him with me and I ignored the pain shooting through my back, hips, legs and feet, and the sun that was simply radiating my skin and dripping sweat all over my face.

I crossed the finish, got my medal, walked off for water and orange juice. I took off my sneakers and the grass felt like a foot massage to my aching arches; so swollen and sore.

I zig-zagged through the crowd of people, and the American Cancer Society tent was in sight. My eyes adjusted, and I saw my Mom, Alyssa, and Lauren standing on the hill with arms open and smiles as wide as the ocean itself.

I wanted to run to them, but, well...I was sort of exhausted.

 Instead, my energy came with the wave of realization that $1,253 was just donated in honor of my father.

As they approached me, I collapsed into Alyssa's arms, as I have so many times before. This time was different.

It was a collapse of strength, tears of happiness, pride, and strength. An accomplishment I was so happy to be sharing with her, and a moment in time I know I'll remember forever.

My Mom poured water over my steaming head, and I continued to cry staring off into the ocean. Our hug turned into a sandwich, my mom and Lauren included.

I was literally, and figuratively, completed surrounded by love and I felt my breath relax and a sense of peace replace the aches and pains.

We walked down to the ocean, and I held my mom's hand as we ran into the water.

We did it Dad.