Holiday Home

Life goal #. . . who am I kidding I've lost count.

Own a home big enough, somewhere, that all my families can come share holidays.

Things I Had Before

As Christmas is quickly approaching, I'm studying for finals (or should be, instead of writing this. . . ), figuring out what to get for family and friends, and trying to answer the questions of what I want for Christmas.

This year I've discovered Amazon wish list, which I have stocked with items to fill my new found adulthood desires (a vacuum that you don't have to push?  Duh, of course I need that).  The strange thing is, though, that everything I want for Christmas doesn't show up on my wish list.  

Everything I want are things that I used to have.  I want my memories to manifest themselves as little worlds that I could go back to and hang out in whenever I felt the need to ride my bike along side my dad while he ran, or call up my mom and not have the word Cancer be part of the conversation.  I want a moment where I feel Nonnie, my grandma, wrapping me up in a towel after a swim.  I want an argument with my other Grandma about whether or not Obama should be king of the world.  I want a tree in my front yard that I can climb and hang out in when I'm having a rough day.

I had so many years where sad things happened to people around me but it was like I was invincible.  My pain was trivial and even then I had such an appreciation for that.

I am so profoundly grateful for the people that are in my life, who have helped me through struggles.  I am so grateful for my families who continue to look out for me.

Now being in law school, my classmates and I are defined as Law Students, and that's how I thought of everyone before me who I knew was in law school.  Now being in that bubble, every person in there is not just a Law Student, every person has a family and a life outside that complicates things just a bit.  Law school would be pretty easy if it were three isolated years of studying.  I'm thankful for the humanity that I've found in my classmates and even some of my professors.

Even with all that I am learning and loving about law school, I still want a moment of pure wonder where I believe that Rudolph will guide Santa's sleigh, and that if I just took the television screen off, I could crawl in to be part of my favorite shows.

Now I look forward to the future and what I want next but there is a continual struggle of wishing things were a little bit more like they used to be.

One thing that hasn't changed about my Christmas list since I was able to speak, I guess, is that I still want a pony.

Tough Mudder!

I signed up for the Tough Mudder at the end of July. My boyfriend was creating a team and basically told me there was no way I would be able to do it. Well if you know me at all, when someone says I can't do something all I hear is, "Do it or die a failure" and I don't fail. Everyone I told that we were doing it told us that we were crazy but were pretty encouraging. So many people said they would do it with me but backed out. I ended up being the only girl on my team with my boyfriend and two other friends.

I joined a gym, did a ton of crossfit workouts and was still feeling very unprepared for the challenge. When we got to the start line, there was a wall to get over before we could even start. Just trying to get over that, I thought there was no way I was going to be able to do this. Then the MC started talking. He talked about how we were there to support the Wounded Warrior project, how he has seen men with no legs complete the mudder, and how when we think we can't go on, it's mental strength that will get us through. That did it for me; that flipped a switch. After the last three years of my life, going 12 miles based on mental strength would not be an issue. It was certainly the most physically challenging thing I have ever been through but mentally, it was a breeze. You just do it and you push on to the next obstacle. This event was even mentally easier than losing my dad and both my grandmas because the Tough Mudder promises a finish line and a tangible sense of accomplishment in the form of the coveted orange headband.

Over 8 and 9 foot walls, over and under logs, through trenches and small crawl spaces, through rivers and lakes, electrocution, mud pits, and up a massive quarter pipe, we persevered. At about mile six when I was pretty tired, two bald eagles flew overhead. The Wounded Warrior Project was represented and for me, my Dad and Grandma were telling me to keep pushing forward. And I did, another six miles and 12 obstacles from that point. I finished with my amazing team.

I am bruised and battered but ready to sign up for Tough Mudder number two!

My sense of accomplishment obviously comes from completing the course but also being part of such an amazing event. Teamwork and positive attitudes were everywhere I ran on that course. I have never been in such an encouraging environment! It made me smile the ENTIRE race. At the mile 9 water station, the guy handing me water said, "Oh you're still smiling, you're going to be just fine!" I was still smiling because no matter how physically tough it was, it was FUN! My fellow mudders encouraged me and helped me along the way as I did for them. We joked and ran the challenge together. I feel so awesome for being able to be a part of that organization. I hope SO many more people join us in July for their Mudder #1 as we take on our Mudder #2.

Egg Timer

I have been cleaning out my grandma's apartment since she passed away almost a month ago. Going through her things has been extremely difficult. At first, my mom was there with me. We would go through things for awhile, then hit a wall and have to stop. Regardless, there was very little crying, we were on a mission to get things done. It has been that way, even after my mom left. I can't stop to think about the things I am doing to my grandma's home that she meticulously arranged. As I have been dividing things up, I try to determine what best suits which family member. Many things, I cannot bear to let go of, yet. While my mom was still here helping, we were going through things in her kitchen. My grandma had three egg timers with the sand inside them. My mom asked if I wanted any of them and I told her just the one that gets clogged.

We continued cleaning things out, sharing stories here and there about things in the house that we remember and stories that those things reminded us of. We tried to avoid talking about Grandma being gone permanently. Frequently we talked about how it was hard to just keep going through everything without her.

After a few hours, we were finally packing up those egg timers. My mom asked me why I wanted the one that didn't work properly. I told her the same reason that I have loved that egg timer for years, "Because time stops."

I feel like that's what I need sometimes. I need time to stop. I need time to take a break so that I can take a break and not feel like I am wasting time. It goes so quickly, but to where? What happens to time after it is gone? Does it go to the same place we go when we are gone? I picture it just slipping away like a silvery whisp, as unattainable and untouchable as the souls that leave bodies behind. We cannot keep track of time, it keeps track of us. Is it sad because it is constantly going somewhere never to return or is it wiser because it keeps moving forward, never stopping? Right now, I still stare at the timer that is stuck about halfway through.