The Lights

Friday night. We gathered at our friend’s house–all our families with food, wine and desserts.

After a bible study (in which most of us giggled, doodled and passed notes) we’d put on our shoes and run outside in any type of weather and go to “the lights.”

With the words ‘HOLD FAST’ written in sharpie on our knuckles, we’d walk down the street–there was this bend in the road where the trees cleared and you could see for miles. We were up in the hills and the city was below us and the lights from downtown glittered invitingly for us to join in.

Sometimes we’d all walk in a group, other times we’d race each other, our lungs burning with the delight of moving. We’d sit in the grass and talk about anything and every thing.

In the winter we’d huddle together as close as we could for warmth. In the summer we’d dance in the road.

We’d stay out till most of the parents had collected their kids and dragged them home. Those who were left would all walk the short way home and swing or sit in the tree until it was our turn to leave.

Many dreams were dreamed. Many things discussed. Many secrets whispered. And many friendships forged stronger on that hillside where we watched the lights.

To The Mermaid Girl

“She was the tide, always drifting in and out of the lives of those who loved her, eternally indecisive, unable to discern whether she desired the solidity and safety of the land, or the wild freedom of the ocean.”

Beau Taplin

You have always been a mermaid. From the first moment your fingers felt the water, to the moment you first gazed upon the ocean. Your heart has always belonged to the sea.

You have always felt the tug of the ocean, even hundreds of miles inland. Its siren song stuck in your head.

And now, your uncanny resemblance to Ariel and all your things making the trek to the seaside so you can live there. You are ready to call the beach your home.

In a way, you’re returning home.

You’ve always had the ocean inside of you–you are deep, mysterious, and parts of you are far too deep and dark for just anyone to explore. Sometimes you are calm on the surface but raging beneath. Your storms have taken many a victim–but on those sunny days, you are a haven. Warm, inviting, a place to find calm and peace.

You, my dear, are a mermaid. An elusive, mysterious creature; only few can claim to have really and truly seen you.

Sometimes it’s so hard to reach you when you retreat to the depths of your ocean; those who love you are left on the land unable to follow.

But, my mermaid girl, don’t forget us in your adventures.

The Cinematic Greats

I will never forget the first time I watched Jurassic Park, or Star Wars, or E.T.

Harry Potter, Lord of the Rings. Those movies whose soundtrack and cinematography stick with you forever. The ones with the most well-loved and quotable script.

Although these will never compare, what a time to be alive that we get to see the continuing story.

I got to see Jurassic World, and it made me feel 10 years old all over again!

Good Music

“It literally stresses me out how much good music there is that I still haven’t listened to”

Always on the hunt. Frantically grasping at the slightest musical phrase that I hear. When you’ve searched for months for that one song. The tenderness with which you clutch it; so soft yet so tight. The way you protect it. Hiding it from those who wouldn’t respect its beauty.

The never-ending obsession.

That One Time I Got Sorted Into Slytherin

Me and my family jumped on the Harry Potter bandwagon very late. The sixth movie had just come out when I picked up the first book and then proceeded to make the rest of the family read it.

And although we were late, we swiftly became whole-hearted converts…um….fans!

As a matter of fact, I started the first book in January, by that November, all five of us had read every book and were dressed up at the midnight premier for part 1 of the seventh movie.

Around this same time, Facebook quizzes were still a thing–you don’t believe me, but they used to be cool–and of course, I HAD to see which house I’d be sorted into.

Because these were fan-made quizzes, I had to take more than one just to make sure things were accurate. 3 out of 4 sorted me into Gryffindor and 1 out of 4 sorted me into Hufflepuff. *BARF*

(Yes, I tried NOT to rig my answers to get me into Gryffindor.)

So when Pottermore made its debut with the actual, for real, Rowling-approved quiz, I was dying to get my hands on it!

Side note: my sister got the BETA version of Pottermore…TWICE! It was a long, complicated process and it’s insane that she got it twice!

When I got my account I zoomed through the first few chapters to get to the Sorting Hat.

*Deep Breath*

Here goes.

Don’t cheat, answer as honestly as possible. This is the quiz that counts–J.K. Rowling herself is quizzing you.

I took my time, I considered every answer, but I didn’t overthink it.

Finally it’s time for my results. I cross my fingers, praying I wouldn’t be a Hufflepuff when suddenly my computer screen is flooded with green and silver.

It’s wrong, it has to be wrong. My breath is short, “Nonononononononononononononononono”

“What?! Did you get Hufflepuff?” the husband asks, only a few chapters behind me.

Wordlessly, I swivel my computer around for him to see the dreaded news.

“Slytherin!! No way!” he laughs.

But it’s no laughing matter, I felt kicked out of the cool kid club…I’d been punched in the gut and I couldn’t breathe. I felt as though I’d let Rowling down and was severely depressed.

I made my way to the floor where the husband was sitting so I could see his results, the screen goes blank for a moment and then the warmth of the Gryffindor common room lights up his screen.

“NO! NO! THAT’S NOT FAIR!!!”

The husband is dying of laughter at this point.

“It’s not funny!” I say, punching his arm more out of frustration than play, “It’s not fair!”

I was upset the rest of the night and I haven’t returned to Pottermore since. It broke my heart too much. The poor husband spent a long time trying to make me feel better but to no avail.

Lately though, I think I’ve found my inner Slytherin and I’m learning to be okay with my house. But there will always be a part of me that has Gryffindor envy, and that part of me mourns every day.

On How The Husband And I Go To Weddings

Weddings.

I LOVE weddings.

I may not even know the bride or groom that well and I weep when the bride walks down the aisle. I love dancing and drinks and pretty dresses and flowers. I’m like a little girl at weddings!

And we’ve reached the point where our friends are getting married. (some are even starting to have babies, like what?!) A lot of these weddings are out of town and because we’re poor, young things we can’t afford to stay at a hotel. So we drive there and back in one day…it’s exhausting but so much fun! He normally drives there because I get tired during the day and then I drive back because once the sun goes down he can’t keep his eyes open!

There were two weddings in particular that we were invited to that were out of state. They were both about a six hour drive away from where we live and we decided to make the drive there and back all in one day.

So we put on comfy clothes for the drive there and plan to stop for a bathroom break shortly before arriving so we can change into wedding appropriate attire. We take our time with lots of snacks, plenty of bathroom breaks and a nice long lunch. Right around the bathroom break after lunch we realize we are cutting things very, VERY close. And then inevitably things hit the fan: we’re both drowsy at the wheel so we have to make caffeine stops, we get turned around, traffic decides to complicate things, etc. We finally hit the point where there is NO time to stop, we have to drive non-stop if we’re going to make it in time.

So the one who’s not driving hops in the backseat and changes into wedding clothes, as soon as that person is ready, the driver pulls over and chinese-fire-drill style we swap seats and keep driving. It’s insane.

I’m an expert at putting on/zipping up my dress in a car.

We get to the wedding, frantically putting on our shoes as we run to the church trying to look like we are adults who know how to get to a out of state wedding on time. (Spoiler alert: we’re not….)

And on the drive home, the husband is passed out in the passenger seat and it’s just me, the road, good music and darkness. My favorite driving conditions.

To The Girl With The Peter Pan Soul

You have always been child-like and I mean that in the best of ways. From the childish sparkle in your eyes to the wry, mischievous grin that you gave so freely. When I think of you as an old woman, I still see you barefoot in the grass with children and animals flocked around you.

You have a gentle spirit that charms children and animals alike. You are a whisperer to the wild things inside of them and they are calmed and warmed by you. I’ve never seen a kid that didn’t want to play with you or a spooked horse that you couldn’t walk right up to.

You have a gentle, Peter Pan soul that is brilliant.

But, dear one, I think as your body has grown up, your little soul has become frightened and confused. Despite your will, you are growing up and there are responsibilities and realities that you are so scared to face.

It isn’t fair, I know. Life was easier when we were children and it’s only natural to wish we could crawl back in our childhood beds when it was early on a Saturday morning. Your family was all there, tucked snugly in their beds at peace; there’s a security in that.

But sweet girl, Peter Pan, even though he was a child, was so brave. He faced the scariest of bad guys and saved those he cared about all on his own. And when he fell out of his pram as a baby he didn’t get scared; no, he stuck out his chest, held his head high and shouted to his fears that he would not be afraid and that he could do whatever he put his mind to.

He didn’t grow up because he didn’t want to….and so it was!

And although you can’t quite stop yourself from growing, I know you can conquer all your fears and all that you put your mind to. Because in your child-like quality you are strong.

Your body must grow old my dear, and with that comes a reality that is harsh and scary and raw. But please promise me, please, that you will always let your Peter Pan soul soar to unimaginable heights. Don’t try to cage that up because it is a beautiful and wild thing that must be loved and whispered to. Always leave the window open for that restless and innocent soul of yours.

I love you.

Creatures of the Night

So there’s this quote that I stumbled across but then lost it in the infinity of the internet. And with all my searching I’ve yet to find the source and the author of said quote! If any of you know the origins of this it would make me the happiest person if you could tell me who wrote this so I can give credit where credit is due.

“I’ve always liked people who say the night is young.”

And I really do like people who say this. I feel a camaraderie with them.

Those are the ones who don’t want to go home, who don’t want the party to end, who want to dance until the sun comes up, who want to waste the night away in laughter. The odd brotherhood that is formed with strangers at a party, where a few glasses of wine has you spilling your heart out to someone you just met.

Those who crave to run out in the night shrieking under the stars, adventures that happen to good music, driving down a dark interstate with the windows down and your favorite song playing.

Those who know that at night, possibilities are endless. You can be whoever you want to be tonight. Tonight, you are infinite, you are young, you are–just for now–happy and the troubles of tomorrow are forgotten.

Why is it that the night dusts everything in golden, shimmering magic?

It fills moments up to brimming with feelings so deep you fear you might break from the weight of them.

The night is young, now let’s go dance.

Bear

For Christmas last year, my youngest sister gave me a spirit animal: a little animal carved out of stone.

My spirit animal was the bear.

At first I was a little uncertain; I mean, I always pictured my spirit animal being something a little more graceful. But when I read the card attached to it, I understood.

It reads:

“The Bear Spirit brings peace, modesty and benevolence. Bears are brave and defend their offspring. They have a very strong motherly nature. “

The thing I’ve been wrestling with lately (as somewhat mentioned in my post Secret Confessions of a Bad-ass Wannabe) is the idea of who I want to be and the reality of who I really am.

I can try to pretend that I’m that girl with the IDGAF attitude but in reality, I’m a softy who just wants to take care of people. So when I held that bear figurine in my hands, I realized I needed to embrace who I was: a mom figure.

I’ve always been the mom of most of my friend groups.

As a matter of fact, at one of my retail jobs, I was working the opening shift with the manager and he was telling me that him and his girlfriend had gone to see the Winnie the Pooh movie the night before.

“We realized that there were as many Winnie the Pooh characters as people working here and we figured out who was who last night.”

“No way! Tell me…”

He made his way down the list and everyone was spot on! And then he said, “And you are Kanga because you’re like everyone’s mom.”

I’ve always fought my softer side; I’ve always wanted to be the kind of woman that you don’t want to mess with. And I am a firm believer that if you want to change something about yourself, you can. But I think that there are some things about you that are inherently a part of your soul that you can never change. And for me, it’s the fact that I’m motherly, that I’m cute, that I’m at times too naive. But this year I’m learning that those things don’t make me weak, they are my strengths if I learn to use them as such.

Don’t fight against yourself, learn to embrace who you were made to be.

Besides, everyone knows not to mess with a mama bear.

Gas-Station Famous

When I was pregnant, I craved all kinds of candy: skittles, but mostly starbursts.

Conveniently for a very-pregnant me, there was a gas station a mere 2 minutes from our house that I could drive to up till 11pm to buy said candy.

Add up at least six months of a girl buying two things at this gas station and as you can guess, they started to know me as the “skittles and coke” girl. It started out with comments like, “Skittles again?”

But then it started happening when I wasn’t there!

One night, my husband went out for me and when he came back he reported that they looked at him and said, “Does she need her skittles and coke again?”

Needless to say, I was a little embarrassed.

I hadn’t been in that gas station since the birth of my son, it’s been at least three months since I’ve shown my face. Tonight was my first night back.

I went up to the register, half hoping that my new haircut/haircolor would throw them off and they wouldn’t notice me. (I was buying for my sick husband anyway…I’m not a fatty!)

But when I get up to the register I’m met with the familiar, “You’re getting skittles again!”

I laughed, “You know me!”

The two guys behind the counter then ask me how my baby is doing and beg me to bring him sometime so they can see him. I promise to bring him soon and then whip out my phone to show them pictures of my chubby boy. They said he looked healthy and happy.

It’s a little embarrassing being known as the girl who buys inordinate amounts of candy…but at the same time, I’ve always wanted to be a “regular” somewhere and it’s happened….so there’s that I guess.