Return to My World

“I suppose you’re transitioning to being back,” a friend commented, “How is that going?”   I responded with a “pshaw”.  You’ve seen it - that gesture of flipping a hand from a palm down and resting position to a full stop position that exposes the palm … all while blowing a raspberry.  I then dug deeper and made the ridiculous comment of, “Oh, I’ve been doing this for years.  I don’t even notice anymore.” What a crock.  Of course I’m going to notice a transition of returning to my world after living somewhere else in the world for nearly nine months.

Hope. And a Lifetime of Time.

Amalah is a woman in her forties who fell from her brother’s shoulders when she was a child.   In that moment of play when her head hit the ground, her emotional development came to a crashing end.   Medical professionals told Amalah’s parents she would remain forever with the brain of a five year old.   In the world I grew up in, this is a sad story.  And still, it is a story with hope. 

Coffee, Cigarettes, and Chemical Weapons

Far too often I make the mistake of believing I know exactly how the day will go before I even get out of bed.   And why wouldn’t I?  Only hours earlier I had tucked myself in with plans confirmed, schedules coordinated, and a list of things to do - each item with its own tick box.  And still, after all this time, I am surprised it surprises me when quite frequently, my days do not go as planned.   

Two Years and Twelve Pounds

I landed in Vegas and got into a cab. “Caesars Palace,” I said. I was splurging. Celebrating the accomplishment of what I thought would be the hardest challenge I would ever ask of myself: work with MSF’s Emergency Team for one year.

The lady behind the counter smiled when I asked about the possibility of an upgrade. As she tapped away at her keyboard, it hit me. I had done it. I had run the gauntlet I threw down for myself years ago and was still standing. A bit shaky, a bit gun-shy, a lot overwhelmed and very tired, but standing. I allowed myself a few delicious moments of self-congratulations and let the lights and decadence of the hotel lobby wash over me.

Letting Go ... An Ode

Letting go is hard. Yet it is one of the most important things and I continue to work at it. Letting go of memories, past grudges, embarrassing moments, mistakes, and words misspoken whether in love, anger, fear, or ignorance. Letting go of both the good and the bad in life. It’s about keeping the hands of our spirits free so we can evolve, as we will. But letting go of my Skechers? This has proven to be particularly difficult.

Instead of letting them completely go, I shall instead find a place for them in “The Closet”. A safe place where they can continue to exist. A place where I can gaze upon them and smile in