This little face is one.
(That nasty public bathroom that we are in is NOT another one....)
Saturday, May 22, 2010
defenseless.
There are three things in this world to which I am utterly defenseless.
This little face is one.
(That nasty public bathroom that we are in is NOT another one....)
This little face is one.
(That nasty public bathroom that we are in is NOT another one....)
Monday, May 17, 2010
On the upside, my birthday suit still fits.
So anyway, (I'm starting out this way to make it seem that there has been no long break between posts...let me know how well this strategy is working, would you?) Welp... it is the end of another birthday for me and I felt that I would be remiss if I did not capture some of the highlights and pass them along to...well...myself and Tennille...who informed me the other day that I needed to post blogs, "way more often" which I took to mean, "Don't call me on the phone...nothing good can come from us talking on the phone."
This has been quite a year... and all I can say is that I am so abundantly blessed. I have a brand new, pain-free back, a great house, a town that is almost eternally sunshine, two little ladies that make me smile from the inside out, a generous selection of the most quality friends of which I am most undeserving, a sister who is one of the rarest people I've known, in-laws that I couldn't even have dreamed up, and a rock star husband, 5 years my junior who I've fooled into believing that he should spend the next 50 years with me. And to think, all I really wanted for my birthday was a day off from my two, 3-foot bosses and the resignation of Nancy Pelosi.... And as I blew out the candle on my cake at lunch and the candle on my flan at dinner (which would explain why I feel like I'm about to fall into a hypoglycemic coma) I had absolutely nothing to wish for. (Incidentally, I did throw one out to the universe at the risk of seeming greedy.)
Thank you to those I spent time with today, either in person or on the telephone. Thank you to those with whom I am eternally connected. But thank you most to my Creator who "has searched me and knows me! Who knows when I sit down and when I rise up; who discerns my thoughts from afar. Who searches out my path and my lying down and is acquainted with all my ways. Even before a word is on my tongue, behold, He knows it altogether. He hems me in, behind and before, and lays His hand upon me. Such knowledge is too wonderful for me; it is high; I cannot attain it." ~Psalms 139~ It's been a tough year in many ways, but hopefully the nicks and scratches, the pressure and the roughening I've endured has produced a more polished and refined gem. As one of my most treasured "Besties" puts it, "You know you are in God's hand, but isn't it nice to sometimes feel His fingers wrapped around you."
38 is GREAT!
Thursday, April 8, 2010
beFOUR you...
Before you grow another inch, learn another word or gain one more bit of independence. Before you stop calling your chin, your "chinny chin chin," and before you stop wanting to be a mermaid princess. Before my kisses stop healing your owies and before my silly stories stop making you giggly and wide-eyed. Before I can't carry you on my hip and before I can't throw you on the bed and before I can't scoop you up and cradle you in my arms. Before your hand no longer fits in the palm of mine and before your feet don't drown in my high heels. Before "Mommy" becomes "Mother" and before I stop being able to answer your questions. Before you stop pretending and playing and dressing up. Before you stop riding your rocking horse buck naked with cowboy boots and your Easter hat. Before you stop eating from Dora plates, flower utensils and drinking from princess cups. Before you stop mimicking me, wanting to be just like me and before I stop being your hero. Before you stop wanting me to tuck you in and kiss you goodnight and before your prayers of thanks stop including rainbows and fireworks. Before you have one more birthday and before you have one more first. Before who you are right now becomes who you were.
Before you turn 4, I want you to know. I loved you even before I met you. I loved the hope...the promise of you. You were a miracle when I first saw you and you are a miracle every single time I look into your big espresso eyes. You have brought me so much joy and wonder and perspective and pleasure and magic and laughter and there is not one day that has gone by that I haven't humbly thanked our Creator for selecting you for me to raise and mother. You are sweet and loving and affectionate. You have a tender heart and soft spirit. Sometimes when I'm with you, I get a tiny glimpse of who you are becoming and will be and I'm just overwhelmed... little you... overwhelm me and amaze me and inspire me.
Before I forget the details of your little face and the subtleties of who you are right now, before the daily and even hourly transformation of you creeps in and steals the little you from my arms and my eyes and just a few short weeks before your birthday, I want you to know. I LOVE YOU so very much. I want you to know that your name, Rhapsody~ "an effusively ecstatic expression of feeling or enthusiasm," fits both you and my love for you, perfectly.
Tuesday, March 16, 2010
dumb luck.
HAPPY ST. PATRICK'S DAY!!!
Dumb luck is in my opinion, the best kind. The kind that you don't wish for, plan for or hope for...the kind that just shows up in your life unannounced and often times unappreciated. So, in honor of St. Patrick and all that his day has come to mean and the fact that I've clearly walked booty backwards into a pot of gold, I am humbled and am hugely aware of all my dumb luck...
I'm lucky to have been born in a country which I adore and to have had the opportunity to explore its depth and breadth from sea to shining sea. I'm lucky to have friends who always make me laugh, and friends that have always been with me when life's punches make me cry. I'm lucky to have been afforded an education, and I'm lucky to be able to stay at home and "mommy". I'm lucky to have a love who not only tolerates my "idiosyncrasies" but finds them attractive or amusing...(very lucky). I'm lucky to be able to view the vast expanse of the heavens right outside my front door. I'm lucky that my two little beauties are healthy and rambunctious. I'm lucky to have been given choices that have ended in success and ones that have enriched my character. I'm lucky to have seen the "big picture" at a very young age. But above all, I'm lucky to know that the great fortunes of my life have not been dependent upon a charm, a clover or a horseshoe, but instead a Creator whose warm showers of love and grace cover even undeserving me. I'm lucky to know that my dumb luck isn't luck at all...
Lucky me.
Dumb luck is in my opinion, the best kind. The kind that you don't wish for, plan for or hope for...the kind that just shows up in your life unannounced and often times unappreciated. So, in honor of St. Patrick and all that his day has come to mean and the fact that I've clearly walked booty backwards into a pot of gold, I am humbled and am hugely aware of all my dumb luck...
I'm lucky to have been born in a country which I adore and to have had the opportunity to explore its depth and breadth from sea to shining sea. I'm lucky to have friends who always make me laugh, and friends that have always been with me when life's punches make me cry. I'm lucky to have been afforded an education, and I'm lucky to be able to stay at home and "mommy". I'm lucky to have a love who not only tolerates my "idiosyncrasies" but finds them attractive or amusing...(very lucky). I'm lucky to be able to view the vast expanse of the heavens right outside my front door. I'm lucky that my two little beauties are healthy and rambunctious. I'm lucky to have been given choices that have ended in success and ones that have enriched my character. I'm lucky to have seen the "big picture" at a very young age. But above all, I'm lucky to know that the great fortunes of my life have not been dependent upon a charm, a clover or a horseshoe, but instead a Creator whose warm showers of love and grace cover even undeserving me. I'm lucky to know that my dumb luck isn't luck at all...
Lucky me.
Monday, March 15, 2010
Ride Sally Ride.
Dear Sally,
I won't pretend to have known you like the rest of them. Your family. Your friends. In fact, when I showed up in the story of your life, you'd already lived 59 years worth of experiences, relationships and memories. But what I will say, is that the Sally I met and knew and loved, was no doubt a more solid and stable, wise and seasoned, relaxed and confident woman than the girl she came into the world as. You had made your mark. You were unapologetic about who you were...truly authentic. And what's more, you accepted all of us...just the way we were....unapologetically.
There are so many things about you that I will have the pleasure of remembering. The way you listened when you didn't seem to be listening. The way you laughed down to your inner most core. The way you held my newborn baby girl with such love and excitement while speaking what was most likely German to her. I will always remember that you were the first person Jay called to share the news of our engagement...and your excitement didn't disappoint. You introduced me to the Bear Pit BBQ restaurant and a form of unconditional love I'd never known before. No matter what was going on in your life, you always had time to hear what was going on in mine. In pain and amidst all kinds of health problems of your own, your first question regarding my upcoming back surgery was, "When can I come and help?" I will always remember the way you treated me like part of your family...close family. I will always remember your flaming red hair and your matching personality that would set any room on fire.
You would have loved your memorial. It was strange for me being there, around all of your people...those who loved you. I kept thinking to myself, "Aunt Sally should be here...." But you weren't. And I missed you. We all did. You would have loved all of the attention and stories and fun being poked at you. There was laughter and there were tears and there were ice cream bars. But what I would like to share with you is this. You made a difference. You affected people. What a testament to the person you were, when everyone in your life thought that they were your very favorite. What a gift! And you had it. Filled up, pressed down and flowing over. When you spoke the words, "I love you," we knew it...and believed it...and were comforted by it. The impact you had in your too short 69 years will have eternal affects and that, I thought you should know. I thank you Aunt Sally. For the pleasure of your company (not nearly enough), the ease of your conversation, and for the gift of your two precious and unconditionally loving daughters who I adore because I can see so much of you in them.
During your memorial, a little pink and red paper heart was given out to each person that would then be placed with your body before you were laid to rest. And on this paper, we were told to write a message to you. The thought made me smile, as I thought about what I would say to you if you had been sitting there right next to me.... A couple of dirty jokes entered my mind. And then a brief memory or two. And then some thought provoking quotes that I thought you might have enjoyed. But as I sat there thinking, it occurred to me that whatever I put on this little heart would in essence be the last thing I could say to you. My dear Aunt Sally, if you were sitting right here next to me now and I could only say one more thing...well this is what my real heart (and the little pink paper one) would say. Thank you for loving and caring for so many people in my life who I love too and have shown me so much love in return. The impact that your love had surrounds me every day.
Until we meet again,
Tava (your favorite)
P.S. I miss you already.
I won't pretend to have known you like the rest of them. Your family. Your friends. In fact, when I showed up in the story of your life, you'd already lived 59 years worth of experiences, relationships and memories. But what I will say, is that the Sally I met and knew and loved, was no doubt a more solid and stable, wise and seasoned, relaxed and confident woman than the girl she came into the world as. You had made your mark. You were unapologetic about who you were...truly authentic. And what's more, you accepted all of us...just the way we were....unapologetically.
There are so many things about you that I will have the pleasure of remembering. The way you listened when you didn't seem to be listening. The way you laughed down to your inner most core. The way you held my newborn baby girl with such love and excitement while speaking what was most likely German to her. I will always remember that you were the first person Jay called to share the news of our engagement...and your excitement didn't disappoint. You introduced me to the Bear Pit BBQ restaurant and a form of unconditional love I'd never known before. No matter what was going on in your life, you always had time to hear what was going on in mine. In pain and amidst all kinds of health problems of your own, your first question regarding my upcoming back surgery was, "When can I come and help?" I will always remember the way you treated me like part of your family...close family. I will always remember your flaming red hair and your matching personality that would set any room on fire.
You would have loved your memorial. It was strange for me being there, around all of your people...those who loved you. I kept thinking to myself, "Aunt Sally should be here...." But you weren't. And I missed you. We all did. You would have loved all of the attention and stories and fun being poked at you. There was laughter and there were tears and there were ice cream bars. But what I would like to share with you is this. You made a difference. You affected people. What a testament to the person you were, when everyone in your life thought that they were your very favorite. What a gift! And you had it. Filled up, pressed down and flowing over. When you spoke the words, "I love you," we knew it...and believed it...and were comforted by it. The impact you had in your too short 69 years will have eternal affects and that, I thought you should know. I thank you Aunt Sally. For the pleasure of your company (not nearly enough), the ease of your conversation, and for the gift of your two precious and unconditionally loving daughters who I adore because I can see so much of you in them.
During your memorial, a little pink and red paper heart was given out to each person that would then be placed with your body before you were laid to rest. And on this paper, we were told to write a message to you. The thought made me smile, as I thought about what I would say to you if you had been sitting there right next to me.... A couple of dirty jokes entered my mind. And then a brief memory or two. And then some thought provoking quotes that I thought you might have enjoyed. But as I sat there thinking, it occurred to me that whatever I put on this little heart would in essence be the last thing I could say to you. My dear Aunt Sally, if you were sitting right here next to me now and I could only say one more thing...well this is what my real heart (and the little pink paper one) would say. Thank you for loving and caring for so many people in my life who I love too and have shown me so much love in return. The impact that your love had surrounds me every day.
Until we meet again,
Tava (your favorite)
P.S. I miss you already.
Tuesday, February 16, 2010
Head meet Heart. Heart....Head.
This was supposed to be a Valentine's Day post, so please forgive my tardiness. However, I did feel that I needed to actually experience this Valentine's Day and then of course, take time to reflect because...well, without reflecting there really are no reflections, you follow? Let me preface by confessing that I didn't get roses, chocolates or even lucky this Valentine's Day, yet this holiday remains my favorite of the year (surpassing St. Patrick's Day for the 8th year in a row). (I do find it worth mentioning that what I did get was a full night's sleep, because my Valentine got up four times during the night with the girls' um, what were they... runny noses, cold arms, scary monster and the "just checkin' to make sure you're there" needs.)
As I reflected in uninterrupted silence for 2 hours (what I consider another V-day gift), during our weekend ski trip I found myself contemplating love. Love...I'm fascinated by it...the way men are fascinated by Angelina Jolie's lips and women are fascinated by fat-free, low cal foods that actually taste great... but, those are topics for another time. Those of you who know me well, know that my nightstand, light reading is almost always some kind of book about love and relationships. Husband/wife, mother/child, friendships...whatever. I find the dynamics and the intricacies of love in human relationships just...amazing and...bewildering. I suppose one reason for my fascination is that I just don't understand love. And in my attempt to try and understand, I've filled my head with far too many books to name regarding every aspect on the subject. I've read experts' opinions, Shakespeare's Sonnets, the Bible, and even the lyrics to all of Richard Marx's songs and yet love's essence still escapes me.
Perhaps this is because the English language uses the word 'love' so generically and would do better to follow a language like Hebrew that has different words for different types of love. I love God. I love cheese. I love my husband. I love my girls. I love freshly washed sheets. Not necessarily in that order and how could those all possibly be considered 'love'?
Maybe it's because love is a concept that has been so over-examined and dwindled away to nothing more than little sayings and song lyrics and greeting cards. All you need is... What is... I will always... It's a many splendored thing... It stinks...
But I think my lack of understanding love is that on this subject, my head and my heart haven't met yet.
L-O-V-E (according to Head): Head knows that love is necessary. And good. And healthy. And fun. Head appreciates the euphoric feeling of romantic love, the intricately woven bond of motherly love, and the warm glowing love between friends. However, Head thinks love is moody, unreliable and sometimes criminal. Head wishes it could control love more so that it didn't take up so much space in its gray matter. Head has seen love kill and destroy and hop in the car to make a non-stop drive to Florida with the intent to kidnap (and possibly do away with) its romantic rival. (Note: The astronaut woman who did this was not wearing an actual diaper...it was a piddle pack which makes a lot of sense on a long road trip. Additional note: Heart thinks that if you've never loved someone enough to hop in the car and make a non-stop drive to Florida with the intent to kidnap (and possibly do away with) your romantic rival... then you really haven't loved...) Head needs to understand love. She refuses to wrap around something that is so elusive.
L-O-V-E (according to Heart): Heart loves that the feeling of "falling in love" actually feels like spiraling backwards into infinity. Heart knows that the more it loves, the greater the capacity it has to love. Heart has a greater understanding of what God's unconditional love of His children is like after unconditionally loving two children of her own. Heart knows that love is more of a verb than a noun. Heart knows that it's usually best to leave love undefined and unharnessed than try to dissect and quantify it. Heart knows that love hurts, love exposes and love takes logic and throws it out the window. However, Heart also knows that love is the one thing that lets the light in, that moves mountains and makes us human. Heart knows that love comes over every Wednesday after back surgery with a meal and some quality time, that in its wide-eyed innocence, "I wuvvv you, Mommy," is totally genuine, that it changes flight plans to help cart two toddlers and a dog all the way from Korea, that it somehow grows deeper and wider even after 10 years together, and that once love even died on a cross so that she could have life everlasting. Heart knows that love makes it easy to forgive, easy to go without sleep and easy to put another before itself. Heart has been hurt and scarred, but she has also been loved more than she's deserved and sometimes even desired. Heart doesn't need to understand love. She doesn't even want to.
For the remaining years of my life, I have no doubt that Head will continue to try and unravel the mystery of love while Heart expands and grows, hurts and heals, loves and loses. In the meantime, I've done my part. I've made the introduction. Whether or not Head and Heart sort it out, well, that's up to them.
As I reflected in uninterrupted silence for 2 hours (what I consider another V-day gift), during our weekend ski trip I found myself contemplating love. Love...I'm fascinated by it...the way men are fascinated by Angelina Jolie's lips and women are fascinated by fat-free, low cal foods that actually taste great... but, those are topics for another time. Those of you who know me well, know that my nightstand, light reading is almost always some kind of book about love and relationships. Husband/wife, mother/child, friendships...whatever. I find the dynamics and the intricacies of love in human relationships just...amazing and...bewildering. I suppose one reason for my fascination is that I just don't understand love. And in my attempt to try and understand, I've filled my head with far too many books to name regarding every aspect on the subject. I've read experts' opinions, Shakespeare's Sonnets, the Bible, and even the lyrics to all of Richard Marx's songs and yet love's essence still escapes me.
Perhaps this is because the English language uses the word 'love' so generically and would do better to follow a language like Hebrew that has different words for different types of love. I love God. I love cheese. I love my husband. I love my girls. I love freshly washed sheets. Not necessarily in that order and how could those all possibly be considered 'love'?
Maybe it's because love is a concept that has been so over-examined and dwindled away to nothing more than little sayings and song lyrics and greeting cards. All you need is... What is... I will always... It's a many splendored thing... It stinks...
But I think my lack of understanding love is that on this subject, my head and my heart haven't met yet.
L-O-V-E (according to Head): Head knows that love is necessary. And good. And healthy. And fun. Head appreciates the euphoric feeling of romantic love, the intricately woven bond of motherly love, and the warm glowing love between friends. However, Head thinks love is moody, unreliable and sometimes criminal. Head wishes it could control love more so that it didn't take up so much space in its gray matter. Head has seen love kill and destroy and hop in the car to make a non-stop drive to Florida with the intent to kidnap (and possibly do away with) its romantic rival. (Note: The astronaut woman who did this was not wearing an actual diaper...it was a piddle pack which makes a lot of sense on a long road trip. Additional note: Heart thinks that if you've never loved someone enough to hop in the car and make a non-stop drive to Florida with the intent to kidnap (and possibly do away with) your romantic rival... then you really haven't loved...) Head needs to understand love. She refuses to wrap around something that is so elusive.
L-O-V-E (according to Heart): Heart loves that the feeling of "falling in love" actually feels like spiraling backwards into infinity. Heart knows that the more it loves, the greater the capacity it has to love. Heart has a greater understanding of what God's unconditional love of His children is like after unconditionally loving two children of her own. Heart knows that love is more of a verb than a noun. Heart knows that it's usually best to leave love undefined and unharnessed than try to dissect and quantify it. Heart knows that love hurts, love exposes and love takes logic and throws it out the window. However, Heart also knows that love is the one thing that lets the light in, that moves mountains and makes us human. Heart knows that love comes over every Wednesday after back surgery with a meal and some quality time, that in its wide-eyed innocence, "I wuvvv you, Mommy," is totally genuine, that it changes flight plans to help cart two toddlers and a dog all the way from Korea, that it somehow grows deeper and wider even after 10 years together, and that once love even died on a cross so that she could have life everlasting. Heart knows that love makes it easy to forgive, easy to go without sleep and easy to put another before itself. Heart has been hurt and scarred, but she has also been loved more than she's deserved and sometimes even desired. Heart doesn't need to understand love. She doesn't even want to.
For the remaining years of my life, I have no doubt that Head will continue to try and unravel the mystery of love while Heart expands and grows, hurts and heals, loves and loses. In the meantime, I've done my part. I've made the introduction. Whether or not Head and Heart sort it out, well, that's up to them.
Tuesday, January 26, 2010
it's just a walk in the (trailer) park
Spot #79. Agave Gulch Fam Camp. That's where you'll find me these days. That is, if you're wanting to deliver me a pizza or just drop by for a visit. What I have called home for going on 6 months now is a 5th wheel, toy hauler trailer. Yes, it's a camper. No, I'm not joking. I've had so many inquires about said living arrangement, that I decided to just go ahead and make it official by adding the experience to my reflections. For me. For the curious. And for some time in the future when trailer life will be just a distant memory....
Let me begin by mentioning that...I LOVE it. Yes, I LOVE it. No, I'm not joking. I love the fact that it always feels like I'm on a camping vacation. I love the 5th wheel itself. (Those who have pitied me have come by to find that this really is hardly "roughing it".) I love that we have 3 flat screen TVs in 39 feet. I love that it only takes me about 30 minutes to tidy up the place, including bathroom, kitchen, beds, and floor. I love that I finally have a place to put my, "If the trailer's rockin', don't bother knockin'" bumper sticker. I love that when I open the door I can see the bone yard with all of its retired aircraft standing like soldiers in the not-so-very distant distance. I love the noticeably absent yard work. I love that I can get six loads of laundry done at once in the beautifully maintained laundry mat for about $10. I love the sound of the rain against the fiberglass siding. I love the creative storage space. I love the girls' motorized queen-sized bunk beds. I love the fact that I can yell at the top of my lungs and still not be within earshot of a far-lefty. I love the way this lifestyle simplifies things in such a way that I can take my girls all over to explore and experience and not be tied to...housework. Stuff. Things. Belongings. Simply put, anchors.
Now keep in mind, lady and gentleman... (I don't want to presume that anyone besides Katie and my husband read this.) this is no ordinary "trailer park". I certainly couldn't go toe to toe with 'ol Marshall Mathers living on the 8 Mile stretch. Nope. When I sit out on my slab of pavement along with all of the others to watch the desert sun set, I see over a half a million bucks sitting on almost every spot. RVs that cost more than a decent house. Motorcycles, corvettes, scooters, Segways and one ton duallys, with clever witticisms plastered anywhere they fit... "gone4good, eat.sleep.jeep., C.U.LTR, Spending Our Kid's Inheritance, and the list goes on and on.... In my park, the average age of the other campers is about 3 decades older than I am.
But one particular evening, when the girls and I were out paying respect to the sky, I realized what I love the most about my current living arrangement. It was 5 o'clock. People had already been congregating on their designated slabs for some time because as one man told me, "When you're retired, every day's either a weekend or a holiday, depending if you can buy beer." And as the crackly speakers began to play aloud for all to hear one of my very favorite songs, our National Anthem, there was a hush. Everyone I could see around me got up, removed their hats, faced the music and proudly placed their hand over their hearts (including my two little ladies) and I had an overwhelming wave of emotion. Pride...maybe. Appreciation...most definitely.
This is what I'll take with me in my heart and in my memory when my trailer park life is finished. I had the pleasure and honor of living (quite literally) right smack dab in the middle of the greatest generation. To my right and to my left. Up the roads and throughout the park. I looked over at the Vietnam Navy pilot in front of me and the Korean war hero across the street and next door the retired marine who I swear I hear, "oohrah," faintly every time we pass. I looked at the group of ladies who constantly give me understanding looks about this military lifestyle we have in common, what it's like to be a single mom most of the time and having a husband with whom you share 70/30 with Uncle Sam. (For those of you who aren't familiar with military life, Sam gets the 70 and you're prying the 30 out of his greedy fist more often than not.)
It was then, at this sunset that I saw these people for who they really were. These were the people who helped to preserve all that I adore about my United States and made the life that I most often times ungratefully enjoy now possible. These are the people who did the work without whining about what they weren't getting and without the sense of entitlement that I've grown to despise in my own generation. They went where they were called. They served. They sacrificed at a time when serving was unpopular in wars that would never be won. And they did this for the chance to be part of something greater than themselves. These are the people who display limps and war wounds and horrible memories of war like the medals of honor they are, ever grateful for the unique opportunity to have participated in everything wonderful that was and is America.
Yes, it's cramped at times. Yes, it's extremely difficult to shave my legs without contorting into some seriously advanced yoga positions. Yes, meal time preparation isn't quite what it was in the enormous kitchen I had gotten incredibly accustomed to. Yes, I do miss my stuff. And yes, I do prefer to live in an actual house. But without a doubt... These are the days to remember.
Let me begin by mentioning that...I LOVE it. Yes, I LOVE it. No, I'm not joking. I love the fact that it always feels like I'm on a camping vacation. I love the 5th wheel itself. (Those who have pitied me have come by to find that this really is hardly "roughing it".) I love that we have 3 flat screen TVs in 39 feet. I love that it only takes me about 30 minutes to tidy up the place, including bathroom, kitchen, beds, and floor. I love that I finally have a place to put my, "If the trailer's rockin', don't bother knockin'" bumper sticker. I love that when I open the door I can see the bone yard with all of its retired aircraft standing like soldiers in the not-so-very distant distance. I love the noticeably absent yard work. I love that I can get six loads of laundry done at once in the beautifully maintained laundry mat for about $10. I love the sound of the rain against the fiberglass siding. I love the creative storage space. I love the girls' motorized queen-sized bunk beds. I love the fact that I can yell at the top of my lungs and still not be within earshot of a far-lefty. I love the way this lifestyle simplifies things in such a way that I can take my girls all over to explore and experience and not be tied to...housework. Stuff. Things. Belongings. Simply put, anchors.
Now keep in mind, lady and gentleman... (I don't want to presume that anyone besides Katie and my husband read this.) this is no ordinary "trailer park". I certainly couldn't go toe to toe with 'ol Marshall Mathers living on the 8 Mile stretch. Nope. When I sit out on my slab of pavement along with all of the others to watch the desert sun set, I see over a half a million bucks sitting on almost every spot. RVs that cost more than a decent house. Motorcycles, corvettes, scooters, Segways and one ton duallys, with clever witticisms plastered anywhere they fit... "gone4good, eat.sleep.jeep., C.U.LTR, Spending Our Kid's Inheritance, and the list goes on and on.... In my park, the average age of the other campers is about 3 decades older than I am.
But one particular evening, when the girls and I were out paying respect to the sky, I realized what I love the most about my current living arrangement. It was 5 o'clock. People had already been congregating on their designated slabs for some time because as one man told me, "When you're retired, every day's either a weekend or a holiday, depending if you can buy beer." And as the crackly speakers began to play aloud for all to hear one of my very favorite songs, our National Anthem, there was a hush. Everyone I could see around me got up, removed their hats, faced the music and proudly placed their hand over their hearts (including my two little ladies) and I had an overwhelming wave of emotion. Pride...maybe. Appreciation...most definitely.
This is what I'll take with me in my heart and in my memory when my trailer park life is finished. I had the pleasure and honor of living (quite literally) right smack dab in the middle of the greatest generation. To my right and to my left. Up the roads and throughout the park. I looked over at the Vietnam Navy pilot in front of me and the Korean war hero across the street and next door the retired marine who I swear I hear, "oohrah," faintly every time we pass. I looked at the group of ladies who constantly give me understanding looks about this military lifestyle we have in common, what it's like to be a single mom most of the time and having a husband with whom you share 70/30 with Uncle Sam. (For those of you who aren't familiar with military life, Sam gets the 70 and you're prying the 30 out of his greedy fist more often than not.)
It was then, at this sunset that I saw these people for who they really were. These were the people who helped to preserve all that I adore about my United States and made the life that I most often times ungratefully enjoy now possible. These are the people who did the work without whining about what they weren't getting and without the sense of entitlement that I've grown to despise in my own generation. They went where they were called. They served. They sacrificed at a time when serving was unpopular in wars that would never be won. And they did this for the chance to be part of something greater than themselves. These are the people who display limps and war wounds and horrible memories of war like the medals of honor they are, ever grateful for the unique opportunity to have participated in everything wonderful that was and is America.
Yes, it's cramped at times. Yes, it's extremely difficult to shave my legs without contorting into some seriously advanced yoga positions. Yes, meal time preparation isn't quite what it was in the enormous kitchen I had gotten incredibly accustomed to. Yes, I do miss my stuff. And yes, I do prefer to live in an actual house. But without a doubt... These are the days to remember.
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