sweet girl.

every so often

i have an itch

that has to be scratched.

an itch to write to you

because

you see

tomorrow...

well, tomorrow you'll be a completely different person

doing completely different things

and in another blink

you'll be gone

floating in the wind.

so

sweet girl of mine

let me tell you a little bit about you

about us

about life as it is right now.

i still look at you and question my life as it was before you came into it.

you are

by far

the sunshine in my life

and i spend my days just waiting to get back to you.

you have taken to standing at the window at daycare and calling for me

(so i'm told)

and while it breaks my heart knowing you can't reach me

it makes me smile knowing you want to.

you have fallen in love with your pappy

my pappy

and i loved watching you follow him all over

during his visit over thanksgiving.

it made me smile from head to toe as you fawned over each other

and broke my heart to know that she

your great-nanny

my nanny

wasn't there to see it all.

she's been sitting on my shoulder quite a bit lately

and i know she's grinning with pride

watching you from above.

you are fast.

your gait winds me and your daddy.

i'm fairly certain we sleep better because of your energy.

you are a lover.

you tell us you love us

you pull us in close for kisses

you squeeze us when we come in for a hug.

it's so much more than the snuggling of your infancy.

it's reciprocated affection

reciprocated love

and i am loving it all

and praying you never grow out of it.

you love your babies

and animals

and have one in tow at all times.

i sometimes hide around the corner and watch you

feed them

push them in the stroller

and rock them to sleep.

you are such a gentle soul.

i see that already.

you sing.

on key.

'row row your boat' is a current favorite

although i am still secretly pushing dave.

you play the piano.

you draw

(for hours)

and your daddy and i are both so hopeful

that that creativity will blossom

grow

flourish.

we are sesame street freaks.

we watch it in the afternoons

before daddy gets home

(because his tolerance for little red monsters is low)

and we know all the songs

old and new

and we count

and we say the ABC's

and we roll on the floor laughing when super grover crashes.

you love to dance.

you dance even when you walk

shaking your hips back and forth

to some music

somewhere

that only you can hear.

you are simply amazing.

every day

a little more

than the day before.

i cannot wait

to watch you grow.

just promise me you'll never grow too big

for a squeeze.

remember

sweet girl

you will reach that moon.

i promise.

go well, sweet girl.

i love you more than words.

getting "passed" it... literally.

it was bound to happen.

i knew

somewhere deep inside

that at some point

we would have to drive to

and past

that place

that changed our lives forever

again.

a trip north

a birthday party

took us that way again today.

the first time 20 months.

the anxiety kicked in for me on friday.

a small twinge

in the pit of my stomach

at the realization

that i would have to face it.

'it's strange,'

i told bill that night.

'i know how that story ended

and it was a happy ending.

but when i take the time to stop

and really think about it

i'm there all over again

and life feels so hopeless.

i can't help it...

i go back to that fence all the time.'

when we passed the sinclair station

in center point

all speaking ceased.

i looked over at bill

to double check his seatbelt.

i checked the sides of the road for any signs

of snow

(although, of course, there were none today).

charlie slept in the back.

i began wearing a hole in my jeans

with my thumb.

'i think i'm going to be sick.'

he said

just outside of gilbertville

white knuckled

eyes glazed

pale.

panicked.

i was feeling queasy myself

trying to remember

where that damned fence was.

my memories of that day

were foggy at best

until after we had crossed the threshold

of the barrier.

and then

we came up over the curve

and the evansdale water tower loomed

and the tears came with no warning.

i sobbed.

i shook.

i reached up to wipe tears

and then wrung them

as the fence came into view.

it seemed that every panel

was the panel we had broken through.

there was a curb.

i hadn't remembered a curb.

i knew my blood

was in one of those backyards

just beyond the steel.

i wretched.

i cried.

and then

in a blink

we had passed it.

i looked to bill

his eyes moist.

he squeezed my hand.

the panic gone.

'where do we need to go from here?'

he asked calmly.

and i threw both my legs up on the dash.

and charlie slept soundly in the back.

and bill slumped comfortably in the driver's seat.

and we finally

put it behind us.

just a breath.

i sat outside the other night

looking up at the stars

and i thought to myself

'i used to be a writer.'

all systems go.

as i sit here pondering all the work i should be doing

i was reminded (three time) yesterday

that i have not revisited

the pain i wrote about in a previous post.

so.

i went to the doctor.

i sat with her for an hour.

i walked for her.

i flapped my arms for her.

she poked me.

she whacked my knees with a mallet.

she couldn't find anything wrong.

she sent me to the lab.

they poked me.

they made me pee in a cup.

they took a fair amount of blood from my arm.

they sent me home.

three days later

my results came back:

all systems go.

now.

this is definitely a blessing

given the last two years.

but this blessing comes with a frustration;

what's WRONG with me?

the doctor has recommended more physical therapy

chiropractic care

massage therapy (i can live with this)

yoga

walking

NO running (at least not yet)

sleep

healthy diet

blah

blah

blah.

so i guess i'm going to fine-tune

my daily upkeep.

there you have it.

i'm 'normal'...or at least as normal as i get.

in other news.

there is a 'new do'

but no pictures yet

this is comical considering

the photography studio that has come into existence

in our basement.

past that

life is status quo.

go well.

lopping locks.

"hair style is the final tip-off whether or not a woman really knows herself."

- hubert de givenchy

hmmm...i wonder what ol' hubert would say about me...

because according to him

and my ever changing locks

i don't have a clue as to who i am...

huh.

maybe he's not far off.

i am genetically prone to changing my hair on a whim.

have you met my mother?

perms.

color.

short.

shorter.

longer.

have you met my sister?

platinum blonde.

ruby red.

bangs.

no bangs.

(at one point, her hair was three different colors - platinum blonde, black and orange.

she would argue red

but

it was orange).

so you see

it's a matter of simple genetics.

for sometime now, i have been working with a 'longer' hair style.

long for me, anyway.

there was the 'sprout' look in high school

the all over 'spike' in college.

since then, i've let it grow out

and cut it off several times.

it's been brown.

it's been red.

it's been highlighted with blonde.

i even had artificial curls shortly after moving home.

and so it was

that when we decided to venture to hawaii

i was determined to have a 'girl's' haircut

something that i could easily let blow in the wind

as we traveled up the coastline

in search of beaches.

i then decided it best to keep

my chin length hair

so that when i wore my baseball cap running

i did not look like a teenage boy

going through an awkward pubescent phase.

finally, after shearing off the back

i decided i needed to keep it long(er)

so that i could toss my mane

back

and

forth

to the melodies strummed

by the south african man

whom i adore.

now that summer is behind me

with all of it's adventures and music

i have decided it is far past time

for a change.

i'm thinking this.

stand by...

the next week could bring a new look...

go well.

better than coffee...

i think i should start every day off like this.

check.

you know those lists?

the ones you make of things you want to do

before you die?

i have one.

it's in my head.

and last friday

i got to put a mental 'check' in one of the boxes.

brilliant. breathtaking. beyond my dreams.

a big thank you for my sweet sister

who

despite being 13 weeks pregnant

stood on her feet for three hours

surrounded by the purple haze

and bottles of booze

and danced

and sang.

sober sisters

were we

in every sense of the word.

i only hope little baby

wasn't too affected

by anything but

the melodies.

i owe you a shopping trip.

next on the list?

hmmm...a new tattoo?

a marathon?

another mountain?

another concert?

stay tuned...

go well.