Bend

Several weeks ago, I dropped my mom off at the airport after a ten day visit. It's always so hard to say goodbye. The greatest thing about being a military wife is moving from place to place. It's also the hardest. I miss my family very much. Especially after a visit. With this, I can deal. By now, I'm accustomed to being far away from family. What's more difficult though, is watching the interaction between Emerson and her grandparents, the way they light up for one another, the love that grows, knowing that it will happen only once in a while. We do our best to be in the moment. Present. But I know that part of our hearts and minds are always preparing for the goodbye.

During her visit, Jared flew out to Arizona to meet up with some friends for a mountain biking trip. It's the first time he's been away since we moved to California. I'm so glad my mom was here for half of his time away. I told her one night that I have a difficult time when he's gone. I should be used to it. He was underway for most of our time in Key West. But I'm not. And it isn't that I'm upset that he's not home, or afraid to be alone. It's something different completely. Something I'm not ready to share here just yet. All I can say is that when he's gone, the loneliness and emptiness in our home is palpable. I literally feel it as I walk though the hallways of our house. In and out of rooms. It's there. Weighty and thick. Consuming, like a wave. As soon as Emerson and I walked into our house after my mom's early morning departure, I felt it. 

But then there was something else here too. On our door step. A package. I thought it would be a gift for Emerson from her Moncu, but when I looked at the return address, I saw that it was from my dear friend in Key West. Opening the package, I had no idea what to expect. I cut the tape off of the box and let Emerson do the rest of the unpacking. Underneath a blanket of pink packing peanuts, and a symphony of Emerson's high-pitched ooOOooh's, I found a gift that any autumn lover would swoon over- pumpkin-nutella bread, all wrapped up and made with so much love by my dear friends, Vanessa and Abby. It couldn't have come at a better time. In my weepy state, I immediately began to cry. Out of gratitude. Out of love. I read the notes they wrote. The scribbles from their sweet daughters. Emerson's first friends. Tears inevitably fell. We moved to the kitchen and then, we ate. And ate. I usually don't offer Emerson sweets, but today was different. It was special. This was soul food--the kind that really feeds you, you know?

There is a sadness to see my mom go. A loneliness that comes when Jared's away. And friends that some how know when we need a little help to get through. 

I think back to college. In college I was lucky enough to make some very good friends. Beautiful people who very quickly became a part of my heart. A part of my history.  I remember freshman year. We all went back to our hometowns for the holidays.  When winter break was over, I was the last to return to school. I remember missing them all so much. The days before husbands and children. When our friends were as much a part of us as our own families. I called them as soon as I got back. The dorm room I shared with Angela was across campus from the others'. She was already over there and we decided to meet half way. When we met, it was all hugs, laughter. Constant chatter. The energy and rhythm that is created when five young women reunite after a long time away.  We stayed up late, catching up, sharing stories from the last several weeks. I'll never forget that night. To listen and be listened to. To endlessly laugh into the early hours of the morning. The currents of life have caused us to drift apart. But I hold on to those memories and am thankful to have felt that kind of friendship so many years ago. 

Fast forward nearly fourteen years, and I'm crying over pumpkin-nutella bread. Missing my mom, missing my husband, endlessly grateful for the two women who thought of sending this gift to me. Friends for which a bond strengthens, even over thousands of miles. How lucky I am indeed for the surplus of love and support that flows between us all- friends. Our conversations have changed. Life is different now. There are other things that fill the spaces of our hearts and minds. We talk of new life- the ones we grew in our own bodies. How to keep them busy. How to help them grow. The perfect, unconditional love they give and the joy they bring. Finding balance. Failed marriages. Troubled minds. Tattered hearts. And loss. We talk about that too. Losing a child. Losing a life. We share our joys. We share our sadness. But still, we share. We listen. We laugh. It may no longer be face to face, but we feel that energy and that rhythm. They still exist, propelling us forward. Helping us stand. The way only friends can do.

"The glory of friendship is not the outstretched hand, nor the kindly smile, nor the joy of companionship; it is the spiritual inspiration that comes to one when he discovers that someone else believes in him and is willing to trust him."

~ Ralph Waldo Emerson 

I love this.

I write. Typing away. Putting thoughts to screen. I stop. To put another load of laundry in. To sweep up this morning's breakfast crumbs. To greet a waking toddler. We begin where we left off. Walks to the park. Backyard lunch dates. I began writing this post the day my mom flew back home. That was November 10th. But this is a busy season of life. A time of raising a small child, when days are full, and she is by my side all day long. It's also a time of opening up to the idea that I am a creative being, leaning into my vulnerability and finding the confidence to start a business. This takes time. Effort. These are times when I want to write. When I need to write. So I do. It takes a bit longer, and that is ok.

November is coming to a close. Our little family has just returned from a week in Tennessee. We had an early Thanksgiving there. Tradition. Comfort. Home. I return with a full belly, a heart full of thanks and a little girl who still feels the boundless love of her family. Jared's mom is here now. More love to receive, more love to give. I love what this time of year does to my ever-busy mind. It causes me to slow down and breathe in deep the the goodness of the season. This year I am so thankful for my family. For the love that flows. For my daughter's spirit. Her contagious energy. The love she pours out effortlesly to others. Seeing the world open up to her and observing with such great delight as she eagerly accepts what it has to give. And I'm thankful for the people in my life-- friends and family who time and time again reach out, arch and flex, bend and support when we need a little help.

Today is Thanksgiving, and I'd like to do something a little different. Every year, I offer thanks for family, friends, health, comfort and I ask that others needing more of these things will see them come. This year I'll say the same prayer, but this year I'd also like to add something. It isn't something I've ever prayed about, but I was inspired by a mama who I think is pretty great. So, this is also my prayer: That I acknowledge the gifts I've been given. Love, compassion, an ability to see the good in others, my vulnerability and even my insecurity. Let me own them and use them in beautiful ways. Help me to use what I've been given so that I can be there for others, the way others have been there for me. And maybe, just maybe, make this world a little more lovely.

Happy Thanksgiving. I hope yours was great:)