Archive | December, 2012

I Will Remember

18 Dec

It’s a week before Christmas. The only decoration we have out is a Christmas card from a friend that says “Ho Ho Ho.” This is embarrassing because I have a closet full of Christmas decor. It doesn’t feel like that time of year to me because I’ve been in a blur for many months.

2012 has had its hard moments as well as those that were life changing. What I’m starting to realize is whether good or bad, if we don’t stop to pay attention to these moments and really grieve losses, celebrate the wins, and mark it, time will begin to bleed together and suddenly a week before Christmas in a year full of huge storms (both literally and figuratively), new jobs, parents moving, grandmas dying, new dating relationships, disconnection, learning to lead in a different context, not being heard or understood, standing tall, sitting down, letting go, and reaching out– that it will all start to feel the same.

I’m afraid of not remembering things. I’m afraid of not living in the moment enough because I’m too worried about the past or the future. I’m scared of “just getting by” or becoming a “weekend warrior” where all my living is done in the 48 hours between Friday night and Monday morning. But I see that happening sometimes.

So I’ll try to remember. The simple. The good. The shocking. That which needs to be remembered.

I remember a boat trip with good friends where we sang and I got to drive for a moment. We celebrated.

I remember the San Diego Zoo and a talk on the bench where I was honest and frank and let a little bit of my heart out to a guy who soon became my boyfriend.

I remember 15 pairs of legs dipped into the hot tub at my parents’ house during the farewell party we had there before they moved to Phoenix.

I remember a toast in the living room to failure and trying to risk.

I remember coming into my bedroom, seeing it fully decorated, and finally feeling like I was home.

I remember three little kids trying to paint and color a banner for their mom on Mother’s Day to surprise her.

I remember a final lunch at a Mexican restaurant celebrating years of good work at the Community Center.

I remember standing in a parking lot completely surprised realizing I would get to go to Disneyland for an entire year.

I remember staring at the screen with disbelief when my friend raised $12,000 in a month in order to complete her first jazz album.

I remember dancing with mariachis and friends to celebrate my new job.

I remember catching the softball and making that out to seal our victory.

I remember crying at my desk when I found out that my hometown, Aurora, CO would never be the same.

I remember running amok a the Glendale Americana with my friend and her four kids and husband as we all played “Duck Duck Goose” on the lawn.

I remember the taste of my first really good homemade plant-based meal.

I remember looking at my friend on her wedding day as she was about to walk down the aisle and thanking God that she had made it to this day.

I remember swimming in my parents pool in Phoenix at 10PM when it was still 90 degrees out and laughing.

I remember turning our apartment into a beach volleyball pit for my roommate’s birthday because the bonfire we had planned wasn’t going to work out due to rain.

I remember laughing to the point of tears with the freshman girls at the high school retreat and feeling like we were understanding one another.

I remember hiking down part of the Grand Canyon with friends new and old, talking about life, and watching several amazing sunsets.

I remember writing a tribute to my Grandma after I realized she’d died and missing her because she knew me in a deep and beautiful way that is rare.

I remember my car breaking down (again) in the middle of a rainy parking lot right before scarfing down a Little Caesars Hot N Ready pizza minutes before a free screening of “Anna Karinina.”

I remember rushing a lot and worrying too much.

I remember dreading work because I’d rather be living life out loud than stuck in a cubicle or in an office dealing with people overly entitled.

I remember what it felt like to break a three-day fast with a piece of watermelon, knowing I have never felt that close to God.

I remember how alive I felt when I was juicing every day, fully aware of everything I was putting into my body.

I remember watching fireworks with kids who really appreciated them.

I remember catching the bouquet at a wedding full of strangers.

I remember the clammy, scary feeling the moment after reading something I’ve written aloud, before anyone claps.

I remember hoping, wishing, and dreaming.

So maybe this remembering helps. Things don’t seem like such a blur. But lately I’ve been forgetting everything little, like how to sign my name or to drink enough water so I don’t get dizzy throughout the day. I want to stop and sit still. Just so I won’t forget to remember.

%d bloggers like this: