Dear Chloe,

It’s softball season. I saw a post on Facebook (a thousand thank yous to Vanessa S. for all her posts!) where you smacked a home run right over center field. You rounded the bases and your teammates high-fived you into home! What a great moment for you! How your Unc and I would have loved to have been there in person supporting you! It’s been almost a year since we were “uninvited” to your events. It was a text message that I was never able to respond to. Plenty of things led up to this text, but, I never wanted to admit defeat. As in, giving up the chance to see you shine whether it was at basketball games, on the field, or even a birthday. I hoped if we only attended your games very occasionally it would be OK. This particular game, we brought your Grand Mimi. We gathered for a picture afterwards. It’s one of my treasures.

Although neither of your parents were present, I guess it caused a problem. And, that, for me, is unacceptable. I don’t know your home life but I absolutely refuse to complicate things for you. Being a teenager is hard enough. Being the only step-daughter is likely its own challenge. Unc and I have considered (many times!) going to watch our other friends kids who just-so-happen to be playing on or against your teams… but, what stops me is that there are likely consequences beyond what I see. I want you to know we are loving you and supporting you and watching your videos from right here. I know you can’t feel it or know it, but you are the closest thing we ever had to “ours”. I was there when you were born. Way back when you were first named Heaven Alize’. Your mom was so ready for you to arrive! She had called me and asked if I would be in the room for your arrival. Of course, I agreed. It took all day but you finally got here and it was love at first sight! Letting your mom take you home to where she was living was incredibly hard. I had told Macy from an early age “One of these days, you are going to want something different, and when that time comes, you have a place with us.” Well, it didn’t take long. You were just 2 months old when your Mom called and asked if we still had a room for her. I said yes and she was ready right then and there to drive to Snyder. I said “well, let’s date before we get married” and we agreed to have a couple of weekend trial runs before you both moved in for good. We did and things went well enough. And within a few weeks we drove to San Angelo and loaded you up and our home became your home, too. Unc and I didn’t know how to do all the things you do with a 19 year old and a 3 month old, but we learned together.

Your mom had a job but didn’t want you in daycare when you were really little. She mostly worked night shift but there were still lots of times you got to go to work with us.

Unc had you when your mom was working and I was teaching classes and he swears to this day you would save your BlG dirty diaper changes for him!

We joked that you had 3 parents and still outnumbered us. I loved making your first foods and freezing little portions so you would have healthy foods, easily. Macy was so young and we just learned things together, as a family. We had so much fun and a lot less sleep during the time you and your Mom lived with us. Mimi and Pop, your great-grandparents, would come to visit and we would take turns playing with you and just being charmed by your sweet self. You were always completely fearless! Whether jumping off something high into our arms, playing in the little baby pool on hot days, or putting your whole fist into Pudge or Paisley’s (our bulldogs) mouths to share your snacks, you just knew nothing bad would happen.

I remember when you first started to have a few words and you called all 3 of us “Mama” depending on who was around. We watched Puss in Boots and Tangled so many times that I still remember the words to the songs. There was one little part where you danced and copied the actions on the screen and I couldn’t figure out what you were doing, but you were so consistent and always did the exact same thing… until your Mom told me the dance move was “cat in the litter box!” It all made perfect sense after that. There was one really scary time. You were about 5 months old and just starting to move around. You had begun to sleep in the bed with your mom and not in the crib. I was in the kitchen making breakfast – it was 5:45am. I heard this *BOOM* and your mom started screaming. You had fallen off the bed and hit the floor, landing right on your head. We all heard it. You cried and she cried and we cried and you got a big goose egg on your forehead where you had hit. It took about 5 minutes to settle you (and us) down and we debated on taking you to the ER. In the end, Macy was comfortable watching you closely and once you got over the initial shock, you ate and laughed and played like normal. Your body functions were working but it took almost a week for that big bump to go down. We observed you for any trouble and you just bounced back like a champ. It was extra scary because we had concrete floors with no rugs. That very day, your Mom had us take that tall bed out and you and she slept on a mattress on the floor until you moved out. We even laid the mattress on a big comforter just in case you fell off that. It could have been a bad injury – but, we were lucky. We had a lot of fun and trips to the park and we even gathered up your Uncle Jake and all made a big trip to Montana to go see Mimi and Pop while they were living near Yellowstone one summer.

It was a really special time. Then your Mom decided to move out and experience independence. I wasn’t sure y’all were ready but she made it work! Fortunately, the apartment she chose was right down the street so you still came for dinner most evenings. On the pretty days, we would eat outside on the patio and then you’d ride your tricycle around the table and nobody cared who dropped what, because the dogs or the wind took care of it. You loved quinoa and any vegetable, anything really, that I cooked! What baby likes quinoa? (Your mom always wanted quesadillas, btw!)

When we would walk you out to the car, we always pointed out the moon. Oh, how we all mooned over the moon. And we would start towards the door and you would remember you needed your “VITES”, these little gummy vitamins we had for you. We might forget but you never did! Not once. So, then you got Chandler, the beta fish. That poor fish, named for the funny guy on Friends. He had a little cloudy bowl and I would tell Macy “you gotta clean his water” and she’d say “I know” and I never thought he’d survive long. One day my phone rang and it was YOU! You had never called me before and I didn’t know you knew how, but you did and you said “AnDee! Come quick! Chandler’s bleeding!” I grabbed Unc and we ran down the street to your door. Your mom had Chandler in a cup with an inch or two of water and he did indeed have a cut of sorts on his side. As I remember it, you were trying to get to him, climbed up on a shelf, which toppled over and fell to the floor and his bowl broke. Your mom got him into some water and you called us. I thought it was over for Chandler Bing. But, no! Your mom sent him home with me and he lived a good, long fishy life and you always enjoyed seeing him when you came over.

Then, you started T-ball! You were a little bit shy of the cutoff age but your mom got permission for you to play. We came and watched you play and you were so little. The batting helmet bounced around on your head when you ran. When you would run to first, you ran comically slow! I’ll never forget how much fun we had at those games.

And you took gymnastics for a bit. It came time for your big recital and we came and clapped. When the show was over, all the kids came to the front of the stage and received flowers from their families. Uh oh! We didn’t know you were supposed to bring flowers! We knew about the costumes, the dress rehearsal and all the other parts. You did not care. You were not coming off that stage. You crossed your arms and wouldn’t even LOOK at us! I don’t remember who took pity on us, but some generous soul gave us a rose from their bouquet and we gave it to you. You forgave us and the party continued. It was just the best! When you are grown and watching littles you love, you will understand, too.

During your early years, your mom was busy. She was working and taking classes at WTC and was making so many good life choices. She upgraded her job from Stripes to working as a bank teller, and got her Associate’s degree. We were (and still are!) so proud of her. It was around this time she met Rey. They started off as work friends and we were thrilled for her to have found a nice man. They began spending more and more time together and we supported this. We had encouraged your mom to have friends her own age. I kept telling her “you don’t need to be hanging around your old aunt all the time!” We loved having both of you in our lives but knew she needed some peers. Anyway… as things progressed we noticed that we didn’t seem to be included in your lives anymore. I was invited to attend her wedding dress selection but any and all other wedding decisions were made without our input. Visits became rare and the closeness we once had seemed to disappear. It was very puzzling and, honestly, upsetting. Unc and I spent many hours discussing what we might have done to offend your mom or Rey. So, the wedding happened and although we were invited, we weren’t participants in any traditional family roles, despite the fact that I had called in a favor with friend to use her venue for the ceremony. You were so precious at the wedding. Papa Sack (Unc’s Dad) came with us and he was overjoyed to see you – because you had become very special to both him and Granny Ann.

Your Grandmimi, Pop, Aunt Emily from Ohio and Uncle Jake all came to the wedding.

We all attended the ceremony but were not included in any pre- or post-wedding events. None of us understood why your mom’s side of the family seemed to be shunned. After that, we just let you three have your life as it seemed to be preferred. We tried attending a couple of birthday parties or events Rey’s family would have in the park, but it was obvious we were not wanted. Invitations either didn’t come or were so last minute it seemed like we were an afterthought.

I do need to make a notable exception…Rey’s Dad. He has always been welcoming and friendly to us. More recently, we’ve sat with him at basketball games while he’s us given the low-down on rivals, friendships and skills.

One Sunday evening in July, your mom called and said you had all been in a wreck. It was near Wichita Falls and you were hurt the worst.

You had bi-lateral pelvic fractures. Your mom had a broken leg and was hospitalized nearby. She had some complications and they were concerned about Koby as she was fairly early in her pregnancy with your brother. You had been flown to Oklahoma City due to the severity of your injuries. Rey’s dad was hospitalized, too. When Macy called, I asked her if she wanted me to come. She said no, as there was really nothing I could do. My instinct was to jump in the car and make sure you and she were OK, but, I decided to respect her request. I thanked her for letting us know and asked her to keep us updated. The next morning was a Monday and we had been at work for less than an hour. Your mom called and asked me if I was coming. I said, “no, Honey, you said not to” and she started to cry and said she needed me to come and be with you in Oklahoma. I said of course I would. I hung up and walked into where Unc was working on a patient and told him I needed to go. He understood. I left the office and packed a few things and left for Oklahoma. On the way, I spoke to Macy and we agreed that I would come first to Wichita Falls and put eyes on her, pick up Rey and then drive him to the children’s hospital where you were. I made it to your mom before noon and, thankfully, she was alert and awake, but our big concern was that you were by yourself and hurt. Rey and I visited on the way. I don’t remember a terrible lot about our conversation except him asking me what I told Daniel about needing to leave. I told him “I just said I had to go”. We got to you within a couple of hours and you were pretty banged up. Your Grandmimi and Pop were also driving in from Montana to be what help they could, but it would be later that evening before they arrived. I have the sweetest picture of you all bruised up in the hospital bed and Pop is with you and you are giving us a giant grin and a thumbs up.

But, I won’t lie, it was frightening to have you in that shape. You, however, were remarkable! You got better every day. Early on, you would have terrible pain spells and they had to give you more and more medication to bring it down. You’d be good for a bit, then the muscle relaxers and pain pills would start to wear off and once that pain hit, it would be a trial to bring it back under control. I was so grateful to be there with you but you were suffering with all your injuries. It is one of the most helpless feelings in the world to have someone you love in pain and nothing you can do. We kept the nurses on schedule with the meds and once we figured out what brought relief, we stayed right on top of it. They released you on a Thursday and your Pop and I spent that morning running around Oklahoma City gathering your car seat, a walker and all the things you needed to make going home accessible. You went home with your family and I went home and the next day, we (Mimi, Pop, Unc & I) came out to your house with food but felt like we were intruding. There hasn’t been a single episode (besides the text) that said “you are not welcome” but you know the feeling of not being wanted. It’s very clear and uncomfortable. We have sat through that feeling just to watch you play but my main concern is how it complicates things for you at home.

I do not have any answers for why things are the way they are. Distant. It’s not been our preference although we have maintained space in an effort to be as respectful as possible. It has hurt my heart to not get to see you be honored for scoring 1000 points in basketball by your sophomore year.

It is crazy that I have to pirate pictures off Facebook to see your milestones. When someone posts a pic of you, I capture it and share it with your Mimi.

Unc is good about finding videos on the high school sports sites and sharing those with us. I know you can’t feel it, but I want you to know that we do love you, immensely! We are so so proud of you and would love to get to show up and be cheering for you in person.

If we have been offensive (or something) I would love the chance to apologize and make things right. It feels sad and empty to not get to participate in these years of your life. I do hold out some hope that when you are older and more independent, we might could have as much of a relationship as you are willing. Until then, please know that we are right over here, loving you and praying for you and wanting only the best that this life has to offer.

From 10 miles away,

AnDee

Have I ever told you about my Mom? Well! Get ready! She is incredible. She is my biggest cheerleader and would be yours, too. She is one of the most friendly and supportive people on the planet. She talks to the check out folks and waves at the passing golfers, often offering them balls from those she has collected on her daily walks. She knows and loves all her neighborhood dogs. She is an artist, coming from a long line of creative women. She can paint, draw, sew, stitch, crochet, quilt, tat, embroider, and just about any other creative endeavor there is. She also does creative landscaping. As in moving dirt and making terraces using paving stones, retaining walls and plantings. To date, she has laid over 18 pallets of pavers while creating patios and landings around her house. And she loves her plants! If one isn’t thriving, she will water it, talk to it, transplant it, or move it to shade. Only very occasionally do her plants not make it. One reason for that would be the deer and other creatures she feeds. When you visit Mom you will see deer, racoons, opossum, owls, frogs, the occasional grass snake, SQs, frogs, vultures, wood-peckers, titmouses (is that titmice?), hummingbirds, blue jays and cardinals. So many cardinals! All the different versions and colors of cardinals that I never even knew existed! They all come to my little Momma. She is the forest fairy godmother. She feeds them corn and the premium black birdseed and pecans and nectar. The deer will wait on her to put out their corn before the sun appears for the day. Often, they can convince her to put out a second batch, too! Especially if there are does and little spotted fawns lurking around. Her home is surrounded by peace and grace and these animals are drawn to her. Before my Mom lived on the edge of a now-defunct golf course, she was a wife, too. My parents had almost 53 years of marriage before my Dad passed away. She was his biggest supporter. He wanted to play tennis, so she played tennis. He wanted to ride motorcycles so she did that with him. They scuba dived together and had many wonderful adventures. Whatever he wanted to do, she was right there with him. Once he was gone, she had to re-discover her own interests and passions. She always had her creative endeavors but over the last several years she has blossomed into her own. She is strong and independent and brave in ways I aspire to be. She is stubborn to the core! Once she starts something, it is BY GOLLY, going to be finished. And, sooner rather than later. As of this writing, my Mom is 77 years old. You would never EVER know it! She will go on hikes with me and my friends and will lead the way! She buzzes around and stays busy doing the work of a grown man often before there’s light to the day. She is on her own schedule and makes no apologies for that. Recently, she has begun crocheting tiny turtles to place in your speedometer inset. They are adorable! But, their purpose is to protect you while you are out on the road. She also makes other tiny crocheted animals, and they sit on her window ledges waiting to be adopted. Last weekend, I saw an octopus she had made and just had to have it! And… then I needed about 6 more for my book club friends and she’s almost finished making those, (barely 3 days have passed). I have always had access to her talents. Once, in junior high, I was awarded the role of the crab in Alice in Wonderland (who knew that role even existed?). She created a crab costume from a hula hoop and red fabric complete with claws and tentacles and it stole the show. She sewed my first prom dress from a sketch that I drew and it was lovely. Her homemade clothes never “looked homemade” IYKYK. She has adopted my friends and has independent friendships with many of them.

When I went to college in the late 1980’s, my Mom wrote me a letter every day. This was before email and cell phones. I know her life was busy and she was doing it FOR ME. I wrote to her, too, but I had time between classes and after coursework was done. She did the same thing when I was off at camp as a young teen. It was a three week camp and we were not allowed phone calls unless it was an emergency. It was great for teaching us independence and self-reliance, but my little Momma knew I needed to hear from her as I was learning these new life lessons. The only time we have ever been out of contact for any extended period of time was the summer I was a foreign exchange student. Overseas calling was very expensive. So… while I was gone abroad for 6 weeks, my parents jumped on the opportunity to take a long cross-country motorcycle trip. I do remember one phone call about mid-way into my experience and something about charges of $14 per minute so we didn’t talk long! The trust my Mom had in me to let me go to Europe as a 17 year old was telling of her faith in how well they had equipped me for life. My Mom was the one who fought to keep a relationship with my sister when she was choosing to live a hard life. Both my parents had done everything they could do to throw her a lifeline, yet, she kept on that same path. Dad was done but Mom still held out hope that she would come around. It was a painful time for our family and Mom was the one with the strength to have hope.

She often senses when things are “off”. Before my sister’s breast cancer diagnosis, my Mom had a dream. She said it was just the word CANCER in white letters on a black background. She didn’t know who or what kind…just that it was coming. I believe I get my intuitiveness and active dream life from her. We are on a parallel path of learning about life together and it’s wonderful to get to share these new ideas and insights with each other. Mom is 1/4 Creek Indian from her paternal side. Her dad was a “half-breed” who fell in love with her mom who was basically “town royalty”, as I hear it, and those two youngsters eloped young to great scandal. Mom was the middle of five kids and her upbringing was less than ideal, although she had great love and respect for her Dad. She decided early on what she did NOT want her life to look like before she knew anything about creating the life she did desire.

Mom and I have a sweet and special relationship. We know how precious family is – especially when ours is so small. We have a daily phone call and text multiple times over the course of the day as we experience our separate, but very connected, lives. She is still my best cheerleader and the best little Momma anyone could have. I know how fortunate I am and *hope* to turn out just half as awesome and amazing as she is!

In a dream last night, I was given a vision of each of us; every person, every animal, every living thing, represented as a drop of water. We know the Rumi quote:

This was a more of a journey, however…

It was as if the drop of water began it’s “life” in a cloud and I was able to witness the condensation process that brought enough weight to this drop to begin its descent to the earth. From there, it hovered on the dry ground briefly before soaking in. It was then taken up by the root system of grain that allowed a wheat berry to mature. The drop of water was then harvested in that crop (along with millions/trillions of other droplets!) into a combine and turned into feed. One very fortunate cow consumed that drop of water inside the grain and the drop toured through stomach, organs, veins and vessels until it became a component of milk in her udder. Once she was milked, our drop was trucked to a plant where it was spun, filtered, heated and bottled into commercial product. The journey continued to a grocery store where a woman purchased that bottle and brought it to her home. Our special water drop was then added to a cup of coffee and consumed by the purchaser’s husband. It then journeyed through his host’s organs and systems and took up residence in his skeletal muscle for a while. A few days later, our droplet was sweated out onto a yoga mat in heated practice. The tiny droplet evaporated up into the air and rode the wind… eventually joining its friends in a cumulous gathering something like a version of heaven. It had sentience and agency to live there or choose to incarnate into yet another adventure that would return it to our earth and maybe, eventually, to the ocean where it would complete its series of lives and lessons as a unique part of the whole and become One with the Universe.

I don’t dare try to explain this dream to anyone. I just view it as an illustration of the myriad of possibilities our lives can take and how limitless the expression of “us” can be between all the infinite options. ♥

Who is the friend you have from college that is willing drive across Texas to come see you? I have one…and just one: Heidi.

Who knitted a neck scarf in “breast cancer pink” for me after my sister succumbed to this awful disease? Heidi

Who sent me an alternative song-of-the-day to my email for oh, I don’t know how many years? Heidi

Who meets you at the airport with a chilled water bottle at pickup? Heidi

Who will rock with you at Metallica or chill with you at Jason Mraz? Heidi

Who will drive 2+ hours to Bastrop and visit for an afternoon when I’m *nearby* visiting my Mom? Heidi

Who can pack for a 3 day weekend in a backpack AND have everything she needs? Heidi

Who puts everyone else’s comfort above her own? Heidi

Who will kayak with me for hours in Belize, but run for shore when the “big swirl with tentacles” surfaces? Heidi

Who will buy a house so her Mom has a place to be? Heidi

Who will counsel you on life’s big and not-so-big questions? Heidi

Who will send you postcards from every vacation with something of your interest? Heidi

Who will remember not only your birthday, but your anniversary, every year? Heidi

Who will send you flowers on your deceased sister’s leap year birthday? Heidi

Who will send you podcasts and articles on smart topics of mutual interests? Heidi

Who will see you in your lowest form and love you anyway… but, not tell you in words? Heidi

Who brings granola bites and salad greens when she visits? Heidi

Who can inspire you with her non-materialism? Heidi

Who believes she can save the planet by eating vegan? Heidi

Who can blend in with any friend group for any activity? Heidi

Who can tell your story better than you can and bring you to tears doing so? Heidi

Who will mark your vacations on HER calendar and wish you a safe and happy trip even after you forgot you told her about it? Heidi

Who will take you to see David Sedaris on SMU campus and be willing to go for ice cream afterwards? Heidi

Who will put you up in a fancy hotel room since “she invited you” to an event? Heidi

Who will drop everything on a Saturday, find a fax machine and put you up for the night on zero notice in order to save your annual beach vacation? Again, Heidi

Heidi is a friend like no other. She sees you, your good and bad and accepts you in spite of it all. She comes to you with questions and makes you believe you have somehow helped her, while she was gently asking for your own benefit. She shares her knowledge and resources and has the widest friend network of anyone I know. It’s no wonder why! She is genuine and honest. I thank my lucky stars that we got to be friends our freshman year of college at Angelo State, 2nd floor of the Women’s highrise. (RIP highrise) We weren’t roommates or even suitemates but, we have become mates for life. That’s a claim you can make after 30+ years! She knows my history, she will eat my food and can 3rd wheel it better than anyone. From INXS to Volbeat; Ron White to PINK; yoga to hiking; and any and all things in between…when you have a Heidi, you will never ever face life alone.

We met in my mid-thirties. She was a little more than a decade older than me. I had been struggling with the whole “what’s it all about” question for a while. I think it was my version of an early mid-life crisis, prematurely induced by the choice to not have children. I was happy in my marriage and I had a good relationship with my family members, but… surely, this experience of being in debt, working hard and not really being able to “enjoy life”… there HAD to be more to it, right? I had friends, but, no one I was close to in my small town. It was just kind of an “ugh” time. I’d bought a little 30 minute yoga DVD from Sam’s about a month before. It was a series of 10 beginner yoga poses. I was doing the tape about 3 times a week and that was “OK”, but, it was the same poses, same words, same sequence… by this time, I really didn’t even need to turn it on. And, then, I heard that our local community college was offering yoga classes! What? I contacted the number with a bunch of questions and she said, “and, if you’d be more comfortable, we can do a private class first, so you can see if you like it.” Well, that was a no-brainer! I didn’t have to worry about all the particulars, I could just taste-test it! So, I got another lady to join me and we arranged to have our own class at my office. And, that is the day I met Kathy. I don’t remember what poses we did or much about the class except that I was so relaxed in her presence, yet, almost giddy at how enjoyable the experience was! I remember thinking, “I’m home”, with this yoga stuff. So, I signed up for her class and started going however often it was, maybe twice a week. I was loyal to practice and found Kathy’s voice and demeanor very calming. I began to realize the buzz and spin of the life I was leading was a lot of static and not much content. I slowed down and started to witness my own self. It was the first time I began to know myself, and it was transformative. I was a little awestruck by “yoga teacher Kathy”. She was so precise and delivered her class with so much care, I could tell she had her world in order and, obviously, lived a perfect life. 😉 From her telling, I *apparently* went up to her after a class at some point to ask a question or something and, she says, I made a joke and used the F word. I can neither confirm nor deny that this happened, but, some 20 years later, she tells me this is the moment she thought “This girl might be friend material!” I am appalled that I would drop this language in such an early, pivotal moment with Perfect Yoga Teacher, but, the stars smiled upon me and the door opened to one of the most profound and enduring friendships I have ever had. I was unaware she had this thought and just kept showing up to class, never considering we could expand our relationship. Who knew? So, that class series ended and she decided to open up her own studio and I followed her. Front row, on the left, I had my spot! Our little yoga family was growing as word spread about her classes. I was faithful and it was a soul-saving time for me. Maybe it was “soul learning”? Whatever it was, it was monumental in my life. One day, Kathy approached me after class and asked if I might be interested in attending a yoga seminar with her. I was shocked, but certainly interested. I was also confused… was I being invited as her “star student” or as a potential friend? It was the first time I realized we might become friends! Don’t ask me where I got this screwed up notion of making adult friends. Childhood friends are your neighbors and classmates. They are built in. College friends are your dormmates. Also, built in! I guess I didn’t know how to navigate adult friendships — I certainly hadn’t made any new ones in some time.

So we went to the seminar and shared a meal and got a Starbucks afterward for the ride home. It was so much FUN! She was funny and sincere and, guess what? NOT perfect! From there, we became fast friends. Yoga, lunches and brunches, happy hours and trips to Natural Grocers…I had a buddy and a whole community of yogis who I considered family, all of which were very helpful when my sister got diagnosed with cancer. Kim had young kids and was only 39 when we got the news. There were a lot of confusing emotions along with anger and sadness that had to be dealt with. I fully credit “Kathy yoga” for helping me manage the grief of my sister’s illness and eventual passing. Near the end, when Kim had a recurrence of disease, my sister’s friends organized a fund-raiser to help with mounting medical bills. Kathy volunteered to go with me to this event. She was a life-line! Her presence in this stressful situation let me go and enjoy being with my sister in an environment where I knew only a few people and allowed me to be grateful for a fun day with Kim when those were quickly becoming rare.

As time went on, Kathy had some struggles of her own. I was able to help her with a couple of moves as she navigated her marriage. Her husband eventually lost his battle with his own demons and I witnessed her survival of his suicide. Tough stuff. However bad you imagine this is, it’s worse. Worse than even I can imagine, too. But, life, or more so our response to it, can make you bitter or it can make you better. Kathy bettered herself over time and our friendship became long distance as she moved 6 hours away. We celebrated victories and losses, life things and heart-stopping things. When I lost my dad and both in-laws in a period of 18 months she was there supporting me and teaching me by her example that these things are survivable. Most things are. Some are not. And, that is where we find ourselves now. Kathy has Stage 4 lung cancer with metastases to her brain and liver. It looks as if our friendship is facing yet another evolution. I’m here for it. As she has been for me. I have long-referred to her as my Soul Sister and it appears that is the next phase for us. Time spent connecting with Source and listening to that still, small, inner voice is where I will hear hers. Until then, I celebrate our time together, our talks and shared laughter, witnessing those who love her most caring for her in the most beautiful way.

I have always had an active dream life. As a child, I remember having vivid and recurring dreams. I have dreamt entire novels that I might or might not have a role in. I have dreamt full length films like I was sitting in a theater just watching a movie on a screen. I have dreamt jokes so funny that I have woken myself up laughing. I have experienced lucid dreams where I am able to direct my actions or the actions of others. I have also had dreams so unspeakably upsetting that I will wake myself up to escape them. But, by far the most curious dream experiences I have had are dreaming of those who have passed from this life. The first “visitation” dream of someone who had passed was with my neighbor from childhood. His daughter was my best friend and we spent many of our young hours in their home and at his business. He was a diabetic and in her childhood language she referred to him having “sugar bean-ditis”. Anyway, Waylon, was a double above-the-knee amputee and he had mobility issues while his wife cared for him full-time the last few years. When the eventual time came, my now-adult friend called me and asked me to go be with her Mom and Dad at our local hospital until she and her sister could come in from the Metroplex. I did. It is one of only 2 times in my life I have stayed up all night. I remember singing to him softly and just standing at his bedside that night. I’m fairly certain there were only very short periods when his wife wasn’t present but, somehow, it’s that alone time that my memory recalls. My friend and her sister arrived at the hospital at 5am and I was relieved of my duties in time to get ready for work the next day – that day, as it was. It was his time to be released from his human form and he passed on soon after. We had the funeral and my dear friend asked me to do a “reading” at Waylon’s service, which is common in the Catholic faith. It was sometime after that when Waylon came to me in a dream. I remember he had a long black car – something like a limousine – and he drove me around the neighborhood so happy to be independent and able to navigate this fine vehicle. It’s just a flash of a memory but it *felt* significant upon waking and to this day, I recall it while thousands of other “regular” dreams have faded away.
Another dream visit involved my maternal grandmother. She was a lovely woman but, due to certain family issues, we weren’t close. After she passed, she came to me and took me on a tour of her most prized possessions. Everything was displayed in beautiful lit boxes like you would see in a museum with just a single thing showcased in each. It was a glimpse of her and her treasures and it gave me complete compassion for who she was and how we had somehow misunderstood her. That’s the common theme of my death dream visits. They bring me great compassion for the deceased. And, they bring me closer to a pure love for them. I do not know if it is some sort of brain trick that manifests as a dream for me and I really do not care if it is. The PEACE it leaves in it’s wake is worth it, even if my spirit is somehow creating it. My two most significant dream visits occurred with my sister and my dad. My sister was only 41 when she died after a 2 year battle with inflammatory breast cancer. She left behind a 17 year old daughter and an 11 year old son, a new husband, numerous friends, our parents and me. Her suffering was nothing short of awful. She fought death with every ounce of energy her body could muster. She had many unsettled issues and there was a lot of pain for those close to my sister. And she had pain. Terrific pain. Pain I would not wish on anybody. But, then she died and her pain ended and ours did not. We suffered for her suffering and all those unresolved feelings we still had to manage. About 6 weeks after she died, Kim came to me in the most vivid visit-dream I have ever had. She has appeared in dreams several times, but, usually just a wave or often a hug (right before waking) when I have been struggling. This BIG visit was during a nap. It was a long visit and nothing short of incredible. We were communicating without words – as in all of my “visits”. Just exchanging energic thoughts in complete clarity without the cumbersome-ness of language. I was able to ask questions about anything and everything and she answered them all. She showed me how the Universe worked. In her version, it was like every tiny thing, even the smallest flutter of a butterfly’s wing caused an almost imperceptible breeze that moved a single blade of grass that then eventually resulted in a wave of growing energy that created the weather, tidal flow and EVERYTHING on the planet. Every single action was pre-determined and HAD to happen in just that way to create the life we are intended to have. This extended out to every thought and choice that WE have as humans creating the “us” that makes our personalities, families, communities and societies. She portrayed it to me as a giant Universal “clock” wherein the smallest part made a “tic” and that built up to a larger cog, then to a wheel and finally, eventually to gears that all turned “behind the scenes” of what is our Reality. My sister’s explanation of my life, our lives and life on this planet gave me this sense of peace that everything, literally EVERY THING, that we experience and every emotion and all of it MUST be so in order for the Universe to function as it is intended. Not that there aren’t bad decisions and bad actions and even bad people, but that they are all NECESSARY for our soul’s journey. This peace, especially after her disease process and all the questions of why, why, why was healing. There wasn’t anything she or we or anyone could have done to have changed the outcome. It HAD to be. In this dream visit, she was in her most perfect human form – radiant of body, long-flowing curls and pure Sister-love but still and all completely HER. I remember waking with tears and taking a long time to process what she had shown me. I was unable to talk about it to anyone for a couple of weeks. When I was finally able to put a word frame around my experience, I shared it with my husband. It brought me as much emotion to attempt to tell him about it as it did when she shared it with me. Now, years later, I know she bestowed upon me an incredible gift of understanding. The peace that came with this knowledge has stayed with me to this day.

My Dad waited a bit for his visits. The first time he came to my dream world was about 6 months after his unexpected passing. We were on vacation with friends in New Orleans and in my dream he just stepped out into my view and gave me a wave to let me know he was OK. He wasn’t close, it seemed he was about a block away, but it was powerful. The next day as we left for the airport, I looked down and saw a dime. In the space of the trip to the airport and the journey home, I found 5 or 6 dimes. I understood that this was his way of expressing to me that he was present. I continue to find dimes now. He usually sends them when I’m on an adventure or a run (especially a 5k) and it brings me great joy to find those dimes. I have found them in foreign countries (that have other currencies!) and in places where plenty of people could have found them before I did. This past weekend, as my friend and I walked in the local park, a dime shined right in my path. I said “Hey, Dad!” out loud and she shared the beauty of the moment with me as we acknowledged him saying “hi”. I have a collection of these dimes and it always astounds me how it’s not pennies, quarters or nickels… just dimes. Anyway, Dad came to me in another “how the Universe works” dream. He expressed the afterlife to me as complete and encompassing love with no judgement. He showed me eternal wavelengths of colored light woven into a Universal tapestry. The lights had no beginning and no ending but at points where they intersected – the pattern created expressed our relationships with others. Some touched briefly and some were interwoven as far as I could see. It was just beautiful and perfect. I have had other encounters with Dad but none so significant as this.

My most recent dream visit was with Lyla. Lyla is the granddaughter of a dear friend. She was diagnosed with a rare genetic cancer at 18 months. She was in treatment for half of her short 3 years on this Earth. Lyla visited me in the early morning hours of Mother’s Day this year. She had come to play and give me the sweetest, most pure hugs I’ve ever had. She was radiant and full of joy and laughter. We were at her grandmother’s house and she told me her tummy didn’t hurt anymore. In her life, Lyla had large abdominal tumors that were terribly painful. I told her how sorry I was that she hadn’t been able to take her Make-a-Wish trip to Disney. She said “that’s OK. What I really enjoyed was time here with my family.” As we played we found a bunny in a mound and she said “We don’t touch it, just watch.” So we didn’t touch the bunny. We could smell bacon cooking in the house that her Daido (grandpa) was making. We played and she asked me if she could come another time for a play date. “Of course! I would love that!”, I responded. And, then I woke up. It was the first time I had met Lyla. I had been close with her grandmom for years but Lyla & I hadn’t connected until that dream. I wanted to tell her grandmother in person but, since it was Mother’s Day and I wanted to share it with her then, I texted her my account of the dream. Just last evening, now a month since that dream, I had the chance to visit with my friend for her birthday. She walked us out as we were leaving and told us about Lyla playing near the swingset. That often a bunny would come up and get quite close to her. If anyone else approached, the bunny would run, but, if it was just Lyla, she would stay. Lyla never touched it.

Today is Valentine’s Day. On this day, 30 years ago, we began working together. My husband, Daniel, is a chiropractor and I am the office manager. We do this thing, day in and day out, still. Before we ever did embark on the being-married/working together deal, we had many MANY friends tell us “Don’t do it! It’ll ruin your marriage.” Well, we didn’t listen and I’m very grateful we did not. I believe our working relationship is just a reflection of the rest of our marriage… most things rock along nice & easy and rarely it’s more of struggle. Fortunately, we have found a rhythm and it works for us. Usually.

I remember when we were in the early marriage days and hardly had any time together. We would go to the grocery store on weekends just to spend time together. Granted, shopping there was a treat. We lived in Las Colinas and that Tom Thumb had a pianist that often played during our shopping dates. I didn’t know much about food prep and better quality ingredients back then…but I’m sure even the Rice-a-Roni looked tastier with a nice concerto playing in the background! We would shop and then take our bulldog, Hoya, for a walk around the canals, maybe order a Mr. Jim’s pizza and the weekend would be gone. Other times we would play cards or have dinner dates with friends from my work or drive 3+ hours home on holidays to see his parents. I recall visiting my best work buddy at the time and saying “I spend more time with you than I do with my husband!” And it was true! I was working full-time and attending graduate classes in the evenings. He was in class from 8am-5pm so there wasn’t much crossover time in our schedules. And, we were poor. Not so poor we couldn’t live in a safe area and occasionally have a decent meal out, but I didn’t make very much and he was on school loans, so, not flush, for sure. But, looking back, it was a sweet and special time. I loved that he had chosen to be a chiropractor and was proud of him for wanting to be in a healing profession. I enjoyed my work in the fitness industry and we were both on track to graduate the same December. We were young with an unknown future and the whole world was wide open to us. As fate would have it, there was a chiropractor in a nearby town who was looking to open an office in our hometown. We met with him and agreed to return “home” to run his satellite office. He also advised us against working together. He had a lady lined up to be office manager and we agreed to his stipulations. Well, fast forward almost a year (and 2 of the most terrible days of my life as a substitute teacher) and the prospective office manager had to back out due to family responsibilities. I was available!! and interested!! and we started professional life together as a package deal.

It was a new office and sometimes the going was slow, especially in the early days. I remember reading lots of books in downtimes and waiting for the phone to ring. Daniel was finding his way and honing his skills. We were up to our eyeballs in school loan debt and I took an adjunct teaching position at the junior college to use my degree and supplement our income. It was a lean time but through it we learned to support each other and how to let our own lights shine. I love being with him on a day-to-day basis. When something happens, I can tell him. Once, many years ago, we lost a dear friend to a head-on collision. I got the call that morning and we were just working a regular busy day. I pulled Daniel aside between appointments and told him. “Honey, I have terrible news. Karl was killed this morning.” I was in shock but functioning. He was more stunned. It immobilized him and he just sat there. I finally said, as gently as I could, “Honey, you have people waiting…” But, it affected him differently and he had to go be available to his patients. All I had to do was not cry when they came out! We have very different roles at work. I am amazed at how tuned in he can be with those in his care. But, for important things and for even the mundane look-this-made-me-laugh things it is wonderful to get to share “life” with your spouse. I get to watch him teach his patients how to get better. I get to witness people who have had headaches or lingering pain (for sometimes years!) come out of an appointment and express their wonder and gratitude to not hurt. It’s a beautiful thing to get to see the person you love and admire most get to do their thing! He is very very good at what he does. One day in the past year, he was taking all kinds of time with a patient and I stepped in to let him know I was going into one of my appointments. He was sitting on top of the desk and the patient was in the chair with a hot pack on his back. The patient was in a lot of pain but couldn’t lie down to receive the therapy much less an adjustment. Daniel was just being with him. He couldn’t “DO” anything, so he was just there, holding space. It was such a great example of his care! He takes his time and gives each person what they need, every time. And therein lies the rub! Sometimes what a patient needs takes more time than what I have allowed on our schedule. You just never know when someone is going to say “Hey, Doc… can you do anything about my shoulder?” and this might be AFTER their adjustment and it COULD be something that has a lot to do with muscular imbalance and it MIGHT take a bit to evaluate and then recommend what is helpful or teach some stretching and/or exercises. You see, my understanding of how it goes with other healthcare providers is if you say “oh! and then I have this other issue…” that you would have the opportunity to make another appointment where this could be addressed. Well, homie don’t play that. You’re here, he’s going to do what he can to help now. So… we get behind. And, if you’ve met me, I am pretty time-conscious. Pretty is a mild descriptor. I’m fairly obsessed with time. I have a lot of time commitments and I value promptness. I also have been known to not really understand why someone might be late…. I mean, it’s a verbal contract, right? You have an appointment at 9:30, courtesy dictates you arrive at 9:25. No? Really? My excuse: It’s how I was raised! I have taken a lot of heat for my views on time! It seems that current thinking is to arrive not early at all. I will see someone drive up and sit in their car so they don’t walk in early. I even have patients apologize for coming in a few minutes before their appointment time! Woah! How things have changed! I have lightened up substantially on my time expectations and my life has relaxed in response to that. Old habits die hard, though… and I have to occasionally remind myself “This little mama could have had a diaper emergency that caused her to be late..” or that people are just humans doing the best they can to navigate each day. So, needless to say, Daniel & I differ in our regard to TIME but we absolutely agree on giving people what they need. It’s all part of the relationship dance. And, oh what a great thing to get to be supporting someone you love do something that you whole-heartedly believe in and do it well for a long time. The long, slow dance. ♥

This is a story about kindness. About humanness. Humaneness. It could have gone so differently, but, it went like this:
I had just boarded an airplane in Midland on my way to Las Vegas. It was a Friday morning and my little Momma was in Mesquite, Nevada. She was alone except for her chihuahua and my Dad had passed away completely unexpectedly overnight. She had been in the hotel room with him. He had not been feeling well that day. He was very low energy and not interested in anything. Dad was always interested in everything so this was very unusual. Anyway, they were driving from Montana headed toward Arizona to get Mom’s knee replaced. They were on a mission and Mesquite NV was about halfway. They stopped for the night and, we believe, Dad had a massive heart attack in the early hours of that Friday. I had spoken to Mom on the phone and my main priority was just to get to her. My husband drove me the hour and a half to the airport and I was a wreck. I was intermittently crying and spending the time I wasn’t trying to *NOT*. Resting Bit$h face ain’t got nuthin’ on “trying not to cry” face. Anyway, I took the first seat that was open so that I could get OFF that plane and get to my Mom as fast as humanly possible. I took an aisle seat next to a woman with a baby. It was a smaller plane with only 2 seats on each side so it was “just us”. I don’t think it was long after takeoff and I was attempting to hold it together and she looks at me and asks “Are you OK?” I said “No. I just lost my Dad and my Mom is alone and I’m trying to get to her.” She said “Oh. I’m sorry. Had he been ill?” No, he hadn’t. “I’m sorry”, she said. And, I cried a little. And, she just sat there with her baby and let me have my feelings. The baby was being really good and she was a beautiful child and I asked how old she was. The little one was 6 months old and was going to be fitted for a temporary skull shaping helmet. We talked about her daughter some, just easy get-to-know-you things and we would fall silent. Then, she would ask me a question like “How old was your Dad?” and I would answer and she would say, so kindly, “I’m sorry.” I learned that a lot of babies need to have their little heads shaped but that she would only be in her helmet for 6 weeks. This momma was grateful that her daughter would be out of her headgear before the hottest part of the summer. She was the third child to her family but the first to have this need. Dad worked in the oil business and she was a stay-at-home Mom. She asked, gently, “What did your Dad do?” and she gave me the opportunity to tell her how he was a chiropractor, who did what he loved. He took early retirement at the age of 45 so he could “pack all the fun in his life” that was possible. He and my Mom played tennis, strung rackets and were both USPTA pros who taught lessons. Tennis was their passion until just recently with the discovery of pickleball, which had moved into the forefront of fun for both of them. She asked me how long it had been since I had seen my Dad. I told her how I had been with my parents just 9 days before for a long weekend. It had been such a great visit. My oldest and dearest friend and childhood neighbor “my Thister” had gone with me to Montana and we had spent 4 days hanging out with Mom & Dad. Dad had taught us how to play pickleball and we had explored beautiful Montana and met their friends there. Mom & Dad were summering in their 5th wheel trailer and we had been able to stay in the neighboring home. It was one of the best and most fun visits we ever got to have. With every exchange, as it would end, this gentle Mom would say, in the most compassionate way, “I’m sorry”. She offered me the chance to think of things besides losing him, besides the trauma my Mom was going through and ever so gently guided my focus to happy memories. I have heard the term “holding space” previously. I kinda/sorta understood it, but with my seatmate I experienced it ever so compassionately, firsthand. I had gotten on that flight hoping to survive it, but, I came off it stronger and already starting to heal from this loss because of the kindness of the lady on the plane.

My little baby dog turned 5 this week. He is the cutest stray ever! (Says every rescue owner, I know!) We love his giant ears and soulful eyes. DL came to us 4 years ago on Labor Day weekend.

Our vet said he was right at a year old – so we gave him a Labor Day birthday and it moves a little each year, just like the Monday holiday. He followed Daniel home from his run on a Saturday. We gave him food and water but he was too scared to stay. He followed him home again the next day and just basically never left. He was covered in burrs and he was hungry but very cautious. It was mild weather for that 3-day weekend (especially for September in Texas!) and we were doing some work on remodeling the living room so we had the back door open to the yard. DL just hung out on a tarp under the scaffolding and slept, going in and out as he pleased. When he wasn’t catching up on rest (because being a stray is hard, y’all!) he would just sit silently and watch us. I bet we had him for a couple of months before he ever made a sound. He was very stoic like the Dalai Lama and he looked like a little llama. Hence, his name, The Doggy Llama. We call him DL. We were decidely dog-free for about a year when he showed up. The last couple of years of English bulldog ownership had gotten really sad and messy, not to mention how hard it was to find someone to for realz MOVE IN when we left town. Anyway, when DL showed up we agreed with each other to vet him, foster him and find him a good home. HA! Of course, we had him scanned for a microchip and plastered his mug all over Facebook, but it was clear he did not have an owner. We took him to the vet who had ushered us through our bulldog era and he said “You are going to learn about hybrid vigor!” Our previous pure-bred dogs had been expensive from the get-go and then along the way with allergy testing, shots, special food, ear and tail issues and the list goes on. We had to be careful to not let them get too hot because the bradycephalic breeds (ie pugs, bulldogs and Pekinese) don’t have the long nose to cool air properly. They were snorty and farty. All sorts of unique things that a Heinz 57 dog like DL is not. He’s great in 99 ways. And, then there is his one issue… he is aggressive to other dogs. Big, little, DL don’t care. He is going to go “all Cujo” on it. With one exception, my Mom’s little chihuahua, Diego. DL loves Diego. He also outweighs him about 3x. But, the brotherly love is evident. We even did dog-training. There’s a local trainer that offers a 6 week class and we met once per week to socialize DL and work on his obedience. He gave us some great information and it was a valuable experience. But, he also said DL will never be a “dog park dog”. He is best as an “only” and protected from other dog encounters. We just don’t know what that first year held for him. When I think about what sparked his anxiety towards other dogs (and, being completely honest…some little kids and loud men!), it makes me so sad for him. But, in all the ways that matter, he is awesome! He has this funny 3-footed run he does when he goes in the yard. He is super energetic, too…until the second half of a mile run! He is a tail-wagging ball of love. The vet says he is part terrier and that part sure likes to watch the SQs (can’t say the word “squirrel” or he reacts!) out the back door and then he runs after them like he’s on fire. I have mentioned his eyes. They are big and round and deep brown. He looks at you like he’s trying to communicate something very important. We were not in the market for a dog when DL showed up. I had lost my Dad unexpectedly about 6 weeks prior to his arrival. DLs eyes remind me of my Dad’s in color. I sometimes feel almost like Dad sent DL to us…to ease the pain of losing him. You know how when you look at something or someone you love and you just get that heart squeeze? Well, DL brings me that kind of feeling. And, he loves me back. He follows me step-for-step, often bumping his nose into my calf every other footfall. Of course, I feed him and give great scratchies and he knows that good things come from me. He really loves me, until my Mom shows up for a visit. Well, never you mind Momma Dee, Grandmimi is here and she’s the one I REALLY love. Maybe Dad really is in there, somewhere? DL goes to work with us at the office. He has a kennel under the counter and he just hangs out there during our work day UNLESS Grandmimi is here. DL won’t leave her. I will ask him just like I do everyday, “DL, are you ready to go to work?” and everyday he jumps up on the ottoman for me to put on his leash and collar. But, when Grandmimi is here, he sits by her on the couch and if I ask him, he tucks his face behind her! He’s not going!! Maybe that has a little bit to do with getting to hang with his one and only Diego… And, get this: when Grandmimi & Diego are here, DL sleeps with THEM in the guestroom. It doesn’t hurt that his Grandmimi will love on him for hours at time and tells him how handsome he is. I’m not even kidding. He is an easy little guy to have around and we love him. I very grateful he decided to stick around and make our lives a whole lot sweeter.

So, we got married by a Justice of the Peace in Irving, Texas. It was a Friday afternoon at 3pm because that was as close as we could get to our honeymoon with a flight leaving out at 6am the next Monday. Let me back up. I wanted to be married to this man. I wanted all the commitment and “marriage-y” things like having his name and him as my life partner and the knowing that we had sworn this to one another. I also like the idea of being engaged… just not as much as I wanted to be actually married! Also, TO HIM, not just anyone! My long time plan, you know, before I fell way deep in love, was to finish my BS, then my MS and work a few years in my field while traveling and being independent. 27 was the age I thought might just be ideal. I don’t even know why, but “27” seemed right. And, then *BAM* the Universe caught wind of my plan and laughed and threw Daniel at me. Like hard. I was not expecting to fall so deeply in love and develop such a need for him in my life. Anyway, that is what happened and when he finally proposed just 30 minutes before midnight of my 22nd birthday (that’s another story!) I did not require a long engagement at all! He was in chiropractic college on a trimester system and I was in college on semesters so we checked our calendars and found we had a common break for a week near the end of August. So, we started planning our honeymoon and worked backwards from there. This was back before the Internet so we went to a travel agent and got travel brochures! From those pages we studied little postage stamp-sized pictures of beach locations and tried to pick one out. I was good at picking out which picture I liked but the all-too short descriptions of “sugar sand beach”, “picturesque sunsets” and “intimate resort” seemed too vague to base a real decision on. Prices for “typical packages” were super helpful as even the shortest stay at lush destinations like Aruba and Turks & Caicos were way out of our reach. Finally, we narrowed it down to Jamaica or Mexico which seemed the most reasonable for our little honeymoon fund. Then, he found these cute little beach bungalows on perfect white sand AND we could afford 5 days there! Big Win! We jumped all over it. We had it booked for probably 2 months and we told no one. At all. When I approached my boss to request the days off, she guessed if it was for our honeymoon. Well, I’m a terrible liar and I really (REALLY!) wanted to tell *someone* so I admitted it was. She was great. She never told anyone else and she was so excited to print up my new business cards with my married name on them. In the meantime, I had planned a trip to go visit my parents in Colorado. I didn’t tell them. I went and had a wonderful visit but, years later, my Mom asked me if I had it planned when I came to visit and she couldn’t get over that I did not tell her! Anyway, the time between my birthday in April and our upcoming August honeymoon was passing and it never did quite seem real. I think women, in general, do most of our emotional processing verbally. Well… in not telling anyone, I just never did that groundwork. Fast forward to August 23, 1991. I went to work and got off around noon. I came to our apartment and realized I needed to have/be/do SOMETHING! Old, new, borrowed, blue! And — pennies! I needed pennies… aren’t you supposed to wear pennies in your shoe, too? I dumped out my piggy bank and when he comes in from morning classes, I’m in the floor surrounded by all these coins. “umm, Dee. What are you doing?” I was frantically searching for pennies minted in our common birth year, 1969. He sees how urgent it is and begins helping me. Amazingly, we find not 1 but 2! I located a thin blue ribbon and tied it on my ankle. Classy, right? Old – well, this didn’t seem terrible to me at the time, but, my dress was “old”. I had worn it to a Spring formal that I went to with another guy back in high school. It was white and lace and I loved it. Why not use it? We weren’t swimming in fortune, so it seemed practical. New was my engagement ring. Four months since my engagement was still “new” to me. Whatever I decided to deem “borrowed” for the life of me I can’t remember. But, I had my good luck tokens “Old, new, borrowed, blue and a penny in her shoe”. Ok, we can go. Get married. Today. At 3pm.

We get to the courthouse. We go to the window and tell the person “We have an appointment with a Justice of the Peace”. We sit. Someone says “go to this office”. We do. The JP is an enormously tall man. Seriously. Daniel is 6 feet 4 inches tall. He is dwarfed by this guy. He looms over us and all I can think is “I’m fixing to be married by Herman Munster!” He sits us down at his huge desk and begins to ask us questions. “Is there anyone you need to call before we do this?” “Have you thought about what sort of future you will have together?” “Are you both 100% sure this is the right thing to do?” Well, no. Yes. Yes. But, I was not anticipating pre-marital counseling – I was expecting him to do legal part and not much else. I guess he took his job of joining a couple legally more seriously than I expected him to. So… that was making me nervous. And, anxious. And a whole bunch of other BIG emotions that I hadn’t really prepared myself for. Anyway, I guess we answered them more satisfactorily than a couple who might have met the night before at bar and he told us to stand. We did. He placed us in front of a Texas flag but instead of red, white and blue, it was cream, light blue and dark blue. It was pretty but it was different than any I had ever seen. Then, he did the ceremony. I remember I couldn’t quite look all the way into Daniel’s eyes so I was focusing on the knot of his tie. Herman Munster said his words and I was attempting to repeat them but I couldn’t make more than a whisper of sound. Finally, “I do” and then the whole verbiage for Daniel and Herman says “You may kiss your bride”. And Daniel bent down and kissed me and then wrapped his arms around me and I breathed in a giant whoosh of air for the first time since the vows began. I guess I had been holding my breath… whooopsie. What fun then followed makes me flush with embarrasment to this day. As I gasped for air, it was choppy inhales like a kid who is crying real hard. The exhales were like some staccato-crazy-person-hyena laughter. It didn’t improve. This mish-mash of emotional stew was like a combination of extreme sport laughing while crying with some hiccupping thrown in for extra cray cray. Yeah. And, it went on for a longer than any of us were comfortable. So, my poor new husband is standing there with his bride and I know he had to have been thinking “No, seriously, she was FINE until I married her!” I think it was an example of “hysteria” in it’s real and raw form. Well, maybe that plus a bit of hyperventilation, too. Anyway, not my finest moment, by far. Never before or since have I experienced such a confused visceral reaction to anything. Pure joy? Yes. Pure grief? Yep. Sadness-relief-compassion-anger? Yes, again. But, this. This was it’s own thing. I am not sure what all was going on but, you know what? He didn’t even care. By the time we got to the car we were both laughing about it. And, he never threw it back on me. I have told this story at my own expense dozens of times, but, he has not. He would never tell it because it might make me look bad and he wouldn’t do that. He laughs when I do recount it but WITH me, not AT me. And, that, friends is just one of the ways you know you chose well in your spouse. I often say I was luckier at 22 than I was smart. I knew I was making a good choice but you don’t know just how good until years later. Thank you for the last 32 years, Daniel. Let’s keep on doing this marriage thing for a while. ♥