almost

It felt almost easy. We laughed on the way there, drank our coffees and talked about nothing and everything. The kinds of conversation that evolve after an hour on the road are the ones that feel so honest and real. I often remember them the longest and with more detail than other daily conversations.

We had a nice leisurely morning in spite of the deadline hanging over us. Eggs, coffee, and a quick stop at the local Starbucks for another coffee for the long drive ahead. At first glance, we could have been on our way for a weekend escape only minus the uniform. The kind girl at Starbucks tried to give you the drinks without paying when she realized where we were headed.

I sat in the car and pondered our circumstances as we drove along. The usual bad Ontario drivers in the left lane (and 401 stop and go traffic) begged us to agree enthusiastically with one another about how pathetic ALL the other drivers are on the road. We make a great pair that way; complaining about bad drivers is great fun!

I thought about you leaving to go to a place that is so foreign to me. A region that is full of conflict and still in dire need of guidance and aid from other countries. Essentially, a place that in my mind represents the unknown. As we drove along I realized how normal our day seemed, you making me laugh as you commented on how useful desert camo is because you can spill coffee and no one would ever know. We chatted as usual about our favourite artists, our plans for the spring, the kids. Then we pulled into the base.

A place you have been to a dozen times in the last 3 months and probably a dozen or two more throughout your career. I got the quick drive by tour of the barracks and hangars and then the reality of the day sunk quickly into my knees. As the mid day sun made it’s appearance I wanted to quickly rewind the day to last night’s relaxing evening in front of the fire.

I met a few of the crew which put me a little bit more at ease in what felt to me to be a strange place. It felt as though we were all standing in limbo waiting in this “in between two worlds” sort of a place. Most everyone I met was light hearted yet there seemed to be a shared desire to just get things moving already. So much lead up to any departure almost always creates a buzz to just get on with things.

We stood and we chatted and then you walked me to my car. You kissed me but it didn’t feel like a sad goodbye like I thought it might. It felt, hopeful. I was thankful in that moment for your practical, realistic ways. As you said, it’s not really goodbye. I know I’ll be seeing you in a matter of weeks. I watched you walk back into the building and I got in my car, proud of myself for keeping it together for you.

I sat at the lights waiting to exit glancing up at the clear skies. I thought about your long night of traveling and the 3-hour drive ahead of me.
It felt…almost easy.

And then the tears came.

happy, content, un-rushed, not perfect but joyful New Year to you

Christmas and New Years seemed to have slipped by quickly this year. The holidays seemed too short as I drove home from work this evening. The traffic crawling along March road felt dull and familiar only two days fresh into the workweek. It’s odd to think we were lounging around in holiday mode only three days ago. Now here I am with heavy eyes all before 10pm after a day of putting out small fires in the bank world.

Time is funny that way. A relaxing Sunday afternoon can feel like weeks ago when you’ve barely made it to lunchtime on your first day back after the weekend. Traffic has a way of sucking the holiday right out of you too. This year’s Christmas break was definitely too short and over too quickly for my liking. I could have used an extra couple of days to soak in the last of 2010.

I often feel the desire to write at years end. I think it’s a natural thing to want to toss a year into the good or bad pile. Was it a year full of challenges or pleasant surprises? Was it one of struggle, or joy? I don’t know anyone who can resist the urge to judge a year and classify it in order to move onto the next one. I know I do it. You read a book and tell others if it was good or bad. We watch movies and critique as though we are all experts…a year gone by is begging for a score.

I wonder if doing so offers any value or benefit to us? Does it make us cranky and self-absorbed if it was a year full of struggle? Do we tend to focus on the bad and forget the good? Woe is me? When it’s been a good one, do we carry that optimism with us and welcome a challenge? Can the good overcome the bad and fuel us with smiles and goodwill for the year ahead??

I suppose it depends a little bit on your disposition. It depends on what lies ahead and what has just unfolded. It depends on how you see yourself in this big wide world of ours. Ultimately it depends on…you.

For the record…2010 was a keeper.

Happy New Year!

Wash over me

I put the kids to bed and fought the tears until I found refuge down here on the couch. Safely out of earshot of the kids, I feel my cheeks flush and the tears start to roll down my cheeks. The lights on the tree blur as I let my sadness come to the surface. I sit here and I cry the tears that have been brewing all evening. I am discouraged by my somber mood.

I walked down the stairs with a familiar heaviness in my chest. I dislike this feeling that has been at bay for so long. I have grown accustomed to feeling in control of my sadness, choosing when to let it wash over me and when to channel it into something hopeful. I know that it is my choice, yet I don’t always feel the strength required to make the better choice.

Why do we choose to be sad? Is there some biology at work sabotaging our good intent? What lens am I looking through today that makes me feel depleted? Why do we feel more resilient some days and others just the opposite? I have asked myself this question many times over the last four years and I find myself sitting here again tonight wondering the same thing.

There are too many variables at work to hold just one accountable for our moods but there must be triggers for each of us. Tonight, I am sad for what my kids have lost…will this ever go away?

Oh Christmas Tree

 

Tree time

 

 

 

 

Re-fuel

I wonder, I question, and I doubt. I find myself having this conversation in my head repeatedly as my patience and energy dwindle. My fresh can-do attitude fades as I look at the circles beneath my eyes in the mirror each morning. I work along side co-workers who comment on how tired I look (ps. telling someone they look tired is the same as telling someone they look like shit) and I wonder if this is all worth it.

I toss around various scenarios in my head wondering which variable would relieve some of the stress I feel each day. I apply my mascara and look back at myself, staring into the freckles in my eyes and I see this exhausted woman staring back at me. I don’t feel young anymore. I don’t feel like the bubbly Vancouver mom I used to be. This single-parent-widowed thing is a tough gig.

My mind flickers back to quick snapshots of family times when things seemed easier. It feels like eons ago, and as though I’m recalling someone else’s life. I search for that recent memory of feeling replenished and well rested but it escapes me. I don’t remember the last time I felt unhurried in my day. As I drive from home to the daycare then work and back again each day in scramble mode, I wonder who else feels like this?

The days feel long and my eyes are heavy as I finish the lunches for the following day (my most dreaded task aside from emptying the dishwasher). I can’t seem to find the 2 minutes it requires to pull over and collect my mail from the mailbox on the corner, or to stop for gas even when the gaslight has been glowing for a day or two. To sacrifice the 6 minutes it takes to fill my car would make me “ultra-late” instead of the usual late so I push it. I test the fuel range setting on my VW as it ticks down to 10kms until empty. I exhale in frustration standing in the cold as I fill my car at $1.13/litre…of course, wishing I had done it the day before.

As I listen to the pump clunking away I catch it’s rhythmic sound. It sounds nice…un-hurried, steady, and not in a rush in the least. I envy the gas pump and it’s simple purpose and patient way. I suddenly realize, this is the first time I’ve stood still for more than 5 minutes all day.

D-e-t-e-r-m-i-n-a-t-i-o-n

I have stood in the hallway outside Noah’s door and cursed his persistence. His unwavering need to always control a situation. His desire to consistently get what he wants. I grab at that silver lining in an effort to look for the positive. I tell myself, this quality WILL come in handy when he’s an adult. His persistence will grow to be less trying and more profitable for him when it is not at the expense of my sanity.

And then I see.

I watch as my little 5-year-old falls over 50 times and gets up, determined to master the latest new skill. He does not get discouraged, or even ill tempered. He skates and falls, and skates and falls, and tries to keep up to his sister.

Watch out Audrey, it won’t take him long…