Last Night

Last night I sold my perfectly lovely antique wrought iron old original one of a kind type of thing you search for for years but could never afford to ship to Europe bed.


It was really hard.


The End.

On Missing

(the making of my Balinese Map)

Yesterday, I read through a lot of old posts on my blog that made me happy. Life lived and enjoyed and savored. Posts like this one or this one, and even this one.

They were fun to live.

Lately, let's face it, I've been a bit of a drag. But it's ok. I'm ok about it. I know when I watch random Improvisation Everywhere groups on YouTube that I am capable of laughing and that my sweet smile can still spread across this face of mine.

After my sister's life changed forever, I felt like it was all just too much emotion built up. So I packed it away tight. Now, I'm slowly unloading it and trying to umwrap the emotions, feel them, and move on. This is different. Because when you actually let yourself feel things, then some nights, you just might be mad for no apparent reason. You're just mad. And you don't want to be made happy. You've subscribed to the belief that happiness might be overrated. You know it's short lived, but it's how you feel in the now.

So, unpacking my emotions while packing up my belongings has made for an interesting few weeks. I've been giving away clothes and movies and lamps and art and transient things that defined my life here. Lots of emotions and letting of goes. Lately, I've been feeling one more than all the rest.

I miss.


When I say this. People immediately say "you miss what?"

There has to be a direct object after that verb--at least, that's how we've always seen it, right?

But there isn't. It's a whole world of missing.

I miss an old blanket I had in college, I miss this shirt I gave to DI a few years ago, I miss the smell of the baguettes made below my little apartment in Paris. I miss kissing that one person I was REALLY compatable with kissing. It just hasn't been the same since I stopped kissing him and I'm worried it never will be the same again. How can it when it's NOT our exact lips meeting? I miss going shopping with April at Costco...where we PROMISE ourselves that we'll just get healthy food and then we are taken in by the cheesy ravioli and pesto sauce and we buy it and indulge. I miss April a lot. Her new life is cool. But I miss the life we shared. I miss the first time I heard Cohen sing Hallelujah on his guitar. I miss when I was a little girl and I didn't like wearing nightgowns, I liked wearing my dad's shirts. I'd go into his closet and pull out a shirt that smelled like my daddy and put it on and curl up in it. It made me feel safe. I miss feeling safe. I miss my sister feeling safe. I miss my family as it used to be. I miss the person that I believed my brother in law was. I miss the time when my oldest niece would hug me for a long time, and when she thought I was the most amazing person in the world. I miss.

I just miss.


And it's not a bad thing.

And I'll move on to this new world. And I'll miss the sweetest house I've ever lived in and I'll miss all my friends and those late night walks around my town, and the way my streets look covered in leaves. I'll miss the rustling and smell of contentment.

And I'll keep on missing.

And that's ok. Because I think the more things you have to miss in life is simply reflecting back to you all of the chances that you have taken.

Remember that Time

Hey remember that time when I gathered all the frost on the car in Florida and made one little snowball? It melted quickly and I had short hair then.

Remember that time when you ran through three red lights to get me home on time for my surprise party, and I gave you a lecture about road rage while I was unlocking the door?

Hey remember when you brought me fresh raspberries on our very first date and you told me the "right" way to let the flavor burst in my mouth.

Remember when you carried your Dolce & Gabanna bag in the Swiss Alps as we hiked?

Hey remember that time when I wrote my journal all in rhyme because I thought it was a dying art? I still do. No one rhymes anymore...


Remember that time when the only place I could find to be alone in New York City was on my small white heartless bathroom floor, and I curled up and had a good cry?

Hey remember that time when that man knocked on the window of the Parisian restaurant and got our attention? We tried to pretend not to notice.


Remember that time I said "I love you" on your broken futon?

Hey remember that when I would only read Austen?
Remember that time when I would only read trashy fashion magazines?


Remember that time when believing in God came easy for me?

Remember when I spoke to the Indonesian students in their own language and it freaked them out?

Remember when she was born?

Remember that time when I lived in the sweetest little Bungalow in Sugarhouse?



Yeah?

Me too.

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