Sincerity meets Reuniting

About three years ago two very lovely people fell out of touch. For various reasons and perhaps some misunderstandings, things between them fell apart.

Their friendship was special.  They'd connected in a way that's virtually impossible to articulate.
A sisterly love was shared between them and was never broken.

Before they met, their hearts were left thousands of miles away.  They had both emigrated from the same country, so this was a vital force in their friendship. It's inevitable to want to find those that share a common thread with us.

I've been fortunate enough to call one of these lovely individuals my friend, my sister and one of the few people I trust to leave my children with. She's thoughtful and caring and honest and available emotionally and authentically. I value this. I value her. I love her dearly...

I knew how heavy her heart was about the loss of connection with her friend. I felt it and it affected me. It pains me to see people suffering over misunderstandings. The fact that we are human and imperfect drives a force within me to want to make things better for those that need a listening ear or a compassionate heart.

The human condition fascinates and bewilders me...

Because I had shared my thoughts on the subject of her loss with my dear friend and had encouraged her to reach out to her friend, it was my sincere desire to see her re-kindle that relationship because love and the people we choose to be our family is sacred to me.

Loyalty and sincerity is my nature.

I know that we don't always get the family we want or understand why certain people are the way that they are but there is no doubt in my mind that we get the people we need. We never know how we are going to affect or inspire anyone at any given moment in our lives.

Yesterday, I took it upon myself to reach out to her friend. This is when I mention how Facebook has allowed for magical things to happen.

Magical things happened.

Her friend was open, available, receptive, loving and absolutely ready to re-connect with her! I sent a simple message that basically said:

"Hi! I've been meaning to tell you that there is someone who misses her friend. She needs you but is too embarrassed to tell you because so much time has passed. She may get angry at me for telling you but I had to because I love her too much not to try.  There, I said it. I feel better... vj" 

Within moments I received a response from her. A positive one. She was over-the-moon delighted that I had shared this truth with her. She was grateful that I was sincere with her. She couldn't wait to speak to her friend.

This is where their journey, once again, begins.

The following day they spoke. They shared how much they missed one another. They let each other know how much they are loved.  They've already planned to see one another for a joyous occasion and this simply brings a song to my heart.

I was thanked for a simple act. Two hearts were needing one another but simply didn't know how to bridge the gap. Sometimes we're given a role to partake in and our heart always knows when its the right moment to act upon it. For whatever reason, I was the catalyst to this chapter in their friendship.

Yesterday was my friend's son's birthday and the friend I reached out to is his Godmother.
She'd been thinking of her Godson all day....

It was a good day because when sincerity met reuniting everyones heart smiled...      

Simply stated

Today I am grateful for the things that I have, good and bad.

Continuing to cultivate compassion is what my mantra will be.

Today I am grateful for personal growth and awareness.

Continuing to be authentic in my actions and loyal to myself will be my modus operandi.

Today and everyday I will continue to remind my daughters to acknowledge those who love them because expressing gratitude and authenticity shines brighter than any star in the Universe.

Continuing to be an example for my daughters is my number one priority because I am their foundation.

Today I'm allowing my cloak of discontent to fall to the ground because the only cloak that will keep me warm and safe is love.

Continuing to sew the pieces of my life together is the only way I'll have a quilt large enough to cover all of those that are dear to me.

Today is a good day.

I continue to learn.

I continue to grow.

I continue to make mistakes and pick myself back up again.

I'm alive and I'm imperfect and I'm okay with this.

Slow

Slow is what I feel like today. I feel like taking several steps back and just breathing in a slow pace. A deliberate pace. A pace that'll make me once again realize that this life is precious and wondrous.

There is a cliché that I've grown to dislike—"enjoy it because they grow up fast", and I say 'dislike' because while I know that this holds some truth, still, it's a nagging reminder that I and most of us take the rushed road toward life.

I don't want fast. I want more slow.

Slow lingers a bit longer. Slow brings you closer to 'in the moment.' Slow let's you enjoy every mundane minute. Slow makes you smile at the glimpses of magic in your life without you ever wondering how you'd miss it. Slow is right here, right now.  

Today is my husband's 42nd birthday. He is my everything. He often reminds me that slow is better than rushed. I love this and many more things about him.

Slow was my walk down the long and narrow isle on my wedding day as I smiled and refused to cry.

Slow were the days of my honeymoon in Italy because we hadn't a care in the world but to be blissfully in love.

Slow was my first labor because I remember every detail of it.

Slow were the days that followed becoming a mother of two. While it was overwhelmingly consuming, I can still remember the scent of my colicky newborn and hear the little voice calling out, "mama", from my sweet 20 month old while she sat and waited for me in her highchair. A difficult and guilt infused memory for me, nevertheless.

Slow were the days that I watched my older two fall in love with their newborn baby sister, my third daughter.  As they admired and kissed her little face, my heart swelled with joy times three.

On this wonderful day, slow is the gift that I've been given and an exceptional man is the one I am celebrating. Happy Birthday to my one and only love...

Slow holds bitter and sweet but slow is still better than rushed.  

An ounce

I don't know why this surprises me but it never fails to amaze me how the simplest of moments can become incredibly special.  

I'm talking about sharing quality time and moments with those that genuinely love you.  It really doesn't matter what you're doing or where you're at because what matters is how you feel while in these moments.

Joy.

"If you can enjoy the smallest moments then all it takes is an ounce 

to truly experience joy..."-Uncle Julio (Poppa)

{Laughter is joy}

When you experience the tender moments of love a person has held for you no matter how much time has passed and how now they are transmitting all of that same love to your children, there is nothing left to wonder or contemplate because pure joy has been returned in the smallest of forms.  A priceless gift.

Grateful.

Each of my daughters are a small reminder of what once was, a little me.  It's sweet and it's special to my aunt and uncle.  Still, they know that the girls are their own little people but it touches their hearts to have this moment in time, this ounce of joy and this small reminder and small piece of me.
Getting to know each one of them has allowed another chance and opportunity to spread their love, only now times three.

Love.

I'm beyond happy for the time the girls have been able to have with them.  It's what I wanted.

We invest in those we cherish.

I feel like I'm sharing this investment with my girls because they will forever reap the benefits of who these two very special people are to me.  The interest appreciates with every giggle, smile and each moment of joy.

Sometimes, all it takes is small doses of a good thing to make a lasting impact.    

{Soaking in the joy of life}

{Above is a chalk drawn 3D sidewalk art celebrating the Macon Cherry Blossom Festival}

Family.

We don't always get what we want or sometimes what we expect but it's up to us to make the absolute best of what we have.  I was telling my uncle how I've become selective with whom I choose to interact with, share my life with and invest my energy into.  Not every person will value an authentic relationship and well, that's okay because I'll still hold compassion for these individuals.  We cannot change a single person but we surely can choose how we comport ourselves.  For me, simple is always better and I've cherished every moment I've been given thus far.

At the end of it all, it just takes an ounce of joy to make an enormous difference.

{Inside the first train station circa 1940's}

Joy.  Absolute joy is what I've been offered during this vacation and reunion and I've gladly and thankfully accepted it.  Joy is love.  Joy is simple.  All it takes is an ounce.  Joy is all this...

Distance and home

The girls and I have been away from home only since last Friday but it feels like forever.

I miss my darling husband and his kisses.  I miss my dog and her barking.  I miss my baby bunny and his hopping.  I miss the scent of my room and my pillow.

This is what distance does.  It makes you miss stuff.  It also makes you appreciate and love all of those things even more.

The girls are having the time of their lives.  Visiting our family this time has been a true wonder.  My aunt and uncle treat me more like a daughter and my girls like their granddaughters because their hearts are just so very special.  This is how they are, loving, gentle, generous and available for us.  I could not have asked for anything more genuine but more so, belonging to me by blood.  This is the feeling I've often searched for—a family that I belong to.  

I am home.  It feels great.  It is what I've always hoped I had somewhere.

This is what my family is like... simple & happy

Happiness in a cherry blossom tree...

Family is togetherness even after a long distance... (Chris and Me with Kalina and Luna) 

Family is silly moments that last a lifetime... (Chris & Kalina)

Family is laughing and sharing...

Family is making memories and looking at past ones...

Family is this... colorful.

Happiness with a loose tooth!

Happiness is getting to wear as many band-aids as we want... thanks to family that spoil us! 

So far, my 'parents' have given me an opportunity to peek into the love and adoration they've always had for me.  I miss my home, yes, but I would not want to miss any more of all this here.  For this, I am eternally grateful and thrilled.   

On a lighter note: Georgia bound!

Remember when I wrote about the amazing gift I received from my Aunt & Uncle? Well, if you didn't read it you can find it here.

After receiving that 'proof of little wonder' and how it moved me beyond what I had ever expected, I immediately planned a trip to go up and visit them.  I knew that it was time for us to reunite once again and this time with my three amazing daughters for them to love as well.

We'll be heading out to Georgia this weekend! I've decided to spend 2 entire weeks with them because a short weekend will not suffice.

My Uncle has already been making preparations for our arrival, more for the girls because he already got all three of them their own bikes!

I know that they're just as excited as I am.  I'm a bit worried about the intense noise level that my girls will be brining to their lovely abode. Yikes!  There is never a dull moment with three very spirited and curious little girls.  I just cannot wait to see the look on their faces...

I'm hoping to have more time to sit and continue working on my current book while visiting them.  We'll see... I'll be blogging and writing and sharing our visit either way.

The other night, my husband said to me right before I zonked out,
"You know, I saw your book in Barnes & Noble."

"You did, did you?" I responded.

"I'm putting it out there for you!" He continued.

"Was it on the New York Times Bestseller list?" I asked.

"Oh, well, I couldn't see THAT much." He said.  I just chuckled and thanked him for believing in me.

Touch

A giggle, a smirk, a caress.

A tap, a hug, a smile.

A wordless, "I'll sit here with you for a while."

Most of us can agree that when words fail us, there is always the physical language that we can rely on.

Touch.  

These moments happen more often than not.  Words aren't enough, at times.
Words can't soothe, always.  Words interfere, sometimes.  

Body language.  It speaks volumes.

It can cure simple woes with a simple touch.
It can remind you that you're alive and breathing.
Hugs can hold you together when everything else is falling apart.

The first time I met my mother-in-law, it was at a wedding of about 400 people.  I was nervous.  I was actually meeting just about every family member that I'd one day marry into at the same time in one big place.

I stood in a crowd of happy guests and people dancing all around me.  My boyfriend, now husband, assured me that there was nothing I needed to worry about.  Earlier that day he left a bouquet of brilliant yellow roses at my apartment along with a note he had written that read "I know that my family will see in you, the same bright star that brought a song to my heart."

Sure enough, in the midst of an overwhelming cacophony of voices and music, we met.  Perhaps it was the loud music or my surprise with her adorable stature (she's 4'10-I think) but I was lost for words.  But words were not needed.  Instead, I slightly bent over and kissed her cheek and smiled.  In return, she held my hand and gently squeezed it while smiling back with a sincere squint in her eyes.

There were no need for words because at that very instant her simple touch said it all.  We made a connection and it has only grown stronger and closer over the years.  I will never forget that day or how I felt.  I find this to be simply magical.      

Eye contact, it connects you and grounds you in an instant.
A gentle palm on the middle of your back... or a slight squeeze of the forearm.

Words don't matter when the eyes or the body speaks.

The other day I cupped my daughter's face in the palms of my hands.  Our faces were inches apart.  I looked into her eyes, she looked into mine and we smiled.  We listened to our eyes and heard each other.  Nothing else was needed.    

When words fail or simply have no place in a moment, there are always hugs or the simple act holding of someone's hand.  Touch IS universal and powerful...

The power of words

I was wondering the other day just how many words does a person actually 'utter' each day?  How do you measure that?  I think of random things, I guess.

Then I thought, what about the people who'd rather not speak that much?  Or the ones who speak too much?  Or the ones who want to speak but can't?  Goodness, the list can go on, right?

In all this thought about words, I came to think of the actual 'power' of words.

Words.

They hold energy.

They hold force.

They hold power and love and hate and inspiration and creativity and strife and pain and compassion.

Words hold a whole lot of things.

I then began to recall how words can do great harm.

"You are worthless."

"Nobody loves you."

"I hate you."

"I wish you'd never existed." 

 Those statements up there are powerful in a negative way.  They are like swords with sharp edges as if to inflict the deepest level of pain.  Those words are not forgotten...

I recently read a wonderful study on water and intent.  The author wrote about how the power of 'intent' made a significant and proven difference in something as simple as water.

"The water was blessed or prayed upon by Rabbis for a specific amount of time, thus infusing the water with the prayers. I even came across plastic bottled spring waters in Whole Foods that had mantras on them."-Kiel Pollit

Even an element like water can undoubtedly be affected by our words.  The power of our words can make or break anything.  When placed under a microscope, the water 'showed' the effect of words upon it.

"Merely, writing positive words and affirmations on the sides of water bottles had a similar effect, where negative words made the water lackluster and positive words created beautiful formations."-Keil Pollit

I tell my daughters to choose their words 'wisely' because once said, they cannot be easily taken back.  Once the word(s) is out, it sticks to whatever was its target.

Sure, they get upset and want to rage at each other with hurtful things like, 'you're stupid!' or 'I'm a winner and you're a loser!' I don't like hearing these things from them so it's my job to correct the behavior.

I encourage communication, and discussion and arriving at a 'middle ground' when no one seems to be content because no matter what happens, the only thing that will always remain is love and compassion.

I know how words can make a difference or break a child's spirit.  I know this because I've felt this.  I've heard this.  I've been inflicted with powerfully negative words as well as, powerfully positive ones.  The latter ones I've held onto tightly and owned.

Words, whether positive or negative, stick to everything.  Period.      

I know that my use of words will sear an image, emotion or association in my children's minds.

I stumble upon beautiful words.  I share them with people I love.  I create and string together words of my own to show and feel and make authentic connections.  I. Love. Words...  

I dislike how words are used to judge and beat down and squash others.  Those words hurt.
They stick like a fly drowning in molasses.

My fifth grade teacher, Mrs. Smith, used her words to encourage and inspire and to tell me, "Laura, no matter what you do, no matter where you came from, always know that you are worth it and you are strong. Keep your head up high, beautiful."

Her words stuck to me like walking through a cob web or like a floating dandelion in the breeze.  

Everything begins with the words I choose.  With every word I utter, I am invariably forming the lives of my daughters with how I verbalize things to them.

My tone matters.

My intent matters.

My choice matters.

My words matter.

Words are power and I want nothing more than to bring love and wonder to them through my words.

Here is the work of Dr. Masaru Emoto on "Water Consciousness and Intent"



How are your words making a difference?   

Proof of little wonders

A little over a month ago I wrote the story of my temporary parents in, 'Once upon a daughter.'

"Just when you least expect it, 

a little piece of wonder smacks you to tears and sheer smiles..."- vj

Allow me to express that my goal in sharing my deepest emotions and struggles here on my blog is to allow myself to further edify my mere existence, perhaps figure out a thing or two and maybe, just maybe, inspire one person while I'm at it.

My dear and loyal readers, what I am about to share with you has 'proven' a response to the one question I've grappled with for most of my adult life:

Was there ever a time where I was a genuinely happy child?  

I've shared some unfortunate things here on my blog as well as, emotionally draining issues and some scary stuff, among others.  Today, I give you my 'proof' of little wonders.      


I finally received the answer to my one question.  Here's the story...

Monday, February 27th 

I recognized the handwriting immediately.  There was a small box sitting on my doorstep.  It was addressed to me.  I love receiving personal mail.  I'm a geek like that.

A package from my Aunt Mary (my memory keeper) instantly put a smile on my face.  I truly had no idea what to expect.

I excitedly brought the box into the house and immediately began peeling away the layers of packing tape from the edges.  The box was methodically stuffed as to protect something valuable.  My heart began to race.

I don't know why but perhaps I felt that something wondrous was going to be uncovered?

Next, I pulled out one, then two, then three crumpled pieces of brown paper out from the box.
Then the note appeared.

As I read those beautifully written words, my heart fell to my feet and I was overcome with heavy emotions.  I held my mouth in complete 'awe' of what I was about to view for the very first time in my life.  

My hands were trembling with excitement and my heart continued to pound against my chest.  

I unwrapped a beautiful little box with a dragonfly on it! (Dragonflies are my absolute favorite insect.  They're like little magical creatures to me.)  Inside this special little box I found a perfect collection of memories.  Memories I thought I was NEVER lucky enough to have or own.

Carefully contained in this little box were 68 perfectly preserved slides.  All of them were photos of me just after I turned two in August 1979.  

Tears thickly welled up in my eyes as I gently removed each slide to hold up to the pendant lamp above me.  My husband was standing beside me, holding my back and simply 'awe' struck with what he was witnessing.  Photos of a little me that resembled each one of my little girls (especially our Kalina.)  

You may be wondering why all of this is so incredibly precious to me?  You see, I was a neglected and oftentimes abandoned child and up until now, there had been little 'proof' of a time when I was genuinely happy and safe and enjoying every waking second of my little life.  

On this particular day I held 'proof' of joyous moments.

I held 'proof' of a loving mother (Aunt Mary) to me.  

I held 'proof' of a loving father (Uncle Julio) behind the lens of that camera documenting and capturing the little wonders happening before him.    

I held 'proof' that my psyche was indeed marked with the deepest form of love and compassion by two very special and selfless individuals.  

I held proof.

"A mother does not solely have to be the person who gestated you 

but can also be the person who nurtured and loved you beyond understanding..."- vj

Gratitude is an understatement.

I bawled and whimpered and held my heart with each breath I took.
I worked hard to sniff up my snots!

"One click of a shutter can freeze and contain all the love and beauty 

that a loving father beheld in his eyes..."- vj

Because I was moved to sobs of joy I felt compelled to reach out to someone that also held a piece of my past with him, my 'brother' Chris (Aunt Mary and Uncle Julio's youngest son.)  Something inside of me felt that there was a possibility that he had played a role in this amazing treasure given to me.

Well, it turns out that he had played a role in this and for that I am ETERNALLY GRATEFUL.
Weeks ago, Chris and his lovely wife had gone to visit my Aunt and Uncle and he stumbled upon them going through all of these old photos and slides.  When he saw this, my dear Chris told my Aunt Mary that I 'needed to see them and have them.'  He swung this incredible pendulum into motion.

I love you, Chris.  No matter how much distance is between us or the many years that have overlapped our lives, Chris IS and will always be my big brother.  My heart is drenched in absolute appreciation.

Chris & little me circa 1979

Tuesday, February 28th

Just as Aunt Mary had written in the note, the photo album arrived in a separate box.  I happened to be on my porch when the box arrived and I mentioned to the mail carrier that he had just 'delivered a treasured gift' and he smiled and said 'enjoy!'

My Aunt Mara was visiting me at the time and we had been talking about and viewing the slides.  Tears and smiles were abundant.

I tore the new box open and it revealed a personal album.

The album

The dedication

Aunt Mary put time, energy and a ton of LOVE into making this album for me.  The best part was finding small notes from her memory bank describing details that only a 'mother' would know and share.  

Our time together was special and sacred and I now own this 'proof' to share with my own daughters.  

I look at these photos and cannot help but to bathe myself in tears...

"You were still in diapers but going from toddler to little girl in a hurry."-Aunt Mary

'Proof' of a happy baby girl...

"Every morning you would pick out what you wanted to wear 

including your socks and shoes." -Aunt Mary

Little 'fashionista'

 "...Some of our friends gave you a baby shower with lot's of clothes as gifts..." 

"You loved bubble baths... the more bubbles the better..."- Aunt Mary

Look at that smile! Pure joy...

"You loved playing with cousins Chris & Mike's hamster, 'Poncho Bandito' "- Aunt Mary 

Fascinated...

"You loved books..."- Aunt Mary

My Aunt Mary made that 'princess' costume for me and 

I was able to have an 'early' and safe halloween experience before returning to my birth mother.  

The bottom photo is Aunt Mary and me on our last day together.  

33 years ago I was gifted with unconditional love and affection, not to mention all of the contagious giggles.  

10 years ago I was gifted with pieces of my past in the form of timeless images capturing the sweet baby 'daughter' I was to Uncle Julio and Aunt Mary and little 'sister' I was to Mike and Chris.  

Today, I've been gifted with a precious memory, my childhood happiness.  Thanks to my first unconditionally loving parents, Uncle Julio and Aunt Mary, I can hold this close to my heart forever.  

I love you both beyond what my words can ever express here.    

Uncle Julio & Aunt Mary,

As a small token of my immense gratitude and absolute love for you both, I'd be honored to gift you the chance to get to know, be a part of and share in the lives of my three daughters.  It is the least that I can offer with what you have forever seared in my heart and soul so long ago.  

Love and compassion grew out of my time with you.  Our time together was pivotal in so many ways.  Thank you... thank you... thank you... from the deepest corners of my heart... 

All my love,

           

"Compassion, from birth, is in our blood."- Dalai Lama

The Year of the Horse: A Love Story

It's the year of the horse and I've been invited to a Chinese New Year's party
by my apartment neighbor.

I'm reluctant to go.  I'm not much of a 'people I don't know' party person.  But my neighbor convinces me after he tells me that I don't have to stay too long.  I live alone and my only two obligations are my school and full time job.  I'm 24 years old and my big plan is to attend law school.  

I don't get too dressed up for the party; simple black leggings, a black microfiber tank, a long-sleeved burgundy crocheted sweater that ties only at the center of my torso and black thong sandaled heels.  I leave my hair in it's natural state with curls and locks abound.  

I arrive at the party after passing the house twice before.  The house is bursting with people.  

There's a large rectangular table at the center of the dining room with an assortment of Chinese food—Chow mien, Lo Mien, Fried rice, Won Ton soup, ribs, sweet n sour chicken and fortune cookies.  Also, beer and wine galore.  

I don't drink much alcohol and I'm not that hungry.  I see my neighbor. 

"Hey! You made it! Come, come, let me introduce you." 

"Hi!  Yes, thanks for the invite again." I say. 

I quickly meet a couple of his friends and then he ushers me off to serve myself a plate of food.    

I serve myself a spoonful of fried rice and one piece of sweet n sour chicken, to show that 'I'm eating.' 

Thirty minutes slowly pass by.  I'm not enjoying myself.  I prepare my car keys to leave but my neighbor spots me trying to dash.

"Hey, you're leaving so fast?" 

"Yeah... I had a long day at work.  Preparing for trial.  I'm a bit tired." I say.  

It's a half lie.  The work part is true but my real plans for the evening include going to read a book at my local Starbucks.  But I'm grateful that he invited me.

"Wait, before you go you have to participate in the ritual!"

"The ritual?  What ritual?" I say with all the skepticism I can muster up in one sentence.    

"Come, come, you'll see." He says excitedly.  

He takes my hand and we walk out to the backyard of the house.  

I'm a little nervous.  I'm not the most trusting of people.  I begin to ask myself dumb questions like, 'Why did I agree to come to this stupid party.  I hope this isn't an swingers gathering.  

Goodness, I need to get the hello out of here!'

There's a gigantic bon fire in the center of the yard.  There are double the amount of people in the backyard.

My friend hands me two items. 

"Here, take this fake paper money and candle."

"What's this for?" 

"Go over to that bon fire with your items and make a wish.  Then, throw your candle and paper money in."

"A wish?  Are you serious?"

"Yeah! Come on! It's the Chinese New Year!"  He smiles and directs me to the flames.  

I think this is so ridiculous.  I don't make wishes.  What in the world am I supposed to wish for?

Some minutes pass.  I watch others dance around, kiss, throw their candles and fake paper money into the flames.  I stand there, still trying to think up a wish.  

I slowly walk closer to the flames, I look up at the night sky, laughter and voices all around me.  Then it comes to me, the wish.  I repeat it to myself: I wish for happiness.  If something is bound to bring me happiness, I welcome it.  Otherwise, I want nothing to do with it.  

I close my eyes, kiss the fake paper money and toss it in along with the candle.  

I say good-bye to my friend and head on home to pick up my book to go read at Starbucks.

I'm happy.  Alone and very happy.   

I stop at a local 7-Eleven before going home.  I purchase a lottery ticket.  I never do this.  

I arrive at Starbucks, grab a table in the patio and finally sit to read my book.  

Thirty minutes of reading pass by when a handsome gentleman approaches me and asks, 

"Excuse me?" I raise my head from my book.  "Do you think I could share this table with you?  I'd hate to hog one up all for myself."  His crisp blue eyes and gray knit shirt make a perfect pairing.  

"Sure! Go right ahead." I say as I motion to the empty chair in front of me.

He sits, turns his body away from me, plugs in his earphones and cracks open his book.  I resume reading my book.  His Starbucks 'Venti' cup has a tea tag hanging from one side.  I'm not drinking anything.

It's Saturday night and there is no other place I'd rather be than right here, at this table, reading.

The corner Starbucks is saturated with coffee drinkers, social groups, book lovers and smokers on this crisp February evening.  I enjoy being out alone with zero obligations.  The gentleman now sitting across from me seems to be enjoying the same.

I continue to read.  He also is reading.  After twenty minutes, I take a break, place my book face down, remove my reading glasses and stretch a bit of my sleeves down to my hands.

"It's a little chilly tonight, eh?" He asks.

"Yeah.  A bit." I respond.

We start to converse.  Small talk at first which later leads to more engaging conversation.

"Are you married?" I ask.

"No." He says.

"Any children?"

"No." He responds with a slight smile.

He asks me similar questions and I give him exactly the same answers he has given me.

The hours at Starbuck's pass by quickly.  Our conversation goes on for hours.  We realize that it's closing time and an employee kicks us out of the patio.  

We're not ready for the evening to end.

It doesn't end.

We talk until 7:30 a.m.  The time does not matter to us.  We've spend a total of nine hours talking, sharing and laughing.  It seems like just a couple of hours to us.  We are enthralled with each other's company and conversation.

It has remained this way ever since...

That evening became the beginning of our love and life together.  I would have never imagined it to happen this way but it's what was meant to be.

Ten years ago today, on a chilly February evening, my husband and I met at Starbucks.

It was an evening where the stars were aligned, a wish was made and a lottery ticket bought, which resulted in a chance encounter.  We were two people wanting to do the very same thing on the very same night which was simply to enjoy a night of reading a book while perfectly content with our own company.  Now we get to share a lifetime of love and 'happiness' together...

Happy 10 year Anniversary, my love...♥  

Here we are, today, at 'the' Starbuck's we met at 10 years ago.  

Gratitude and following my heart

Image via Google

One of the things that I've often felt compelled to share here are the memories of my childhood that inevitably intertwine with my mothering.

I'm constantly peeling away the layers of scabs that allow me to heal and that ultimately permit me to mother my three sweet daughters in the ways that I myself dreamt of being mothered.  

One might say that it's a form of therapy.  I'd agree.

I have much to be grateful for.  Becoming a mother has been the cornerstone in allowing me to face and sit with the sometimes unpleasant and oftentimes painful events from my past.  Ignoring it would be foolish of me.  Pain comes with growth.  Becoming aware takes time.  I am solely responsible for my actions.  Overall, I am grateful for being able to love and mother my daughters as I do.

Love is a road we all trek down and sometimes we stumble upon rocks that leave us bruised and scraped.  The most painful ones often intersect at a very young and impressionable age (at least for me.)  Sometimes not for others.  But still, love is unrelenting and the heart, when followed, is full of gratitude for the chances at loving and being loved...again.  

Nothing is ever single facetted.  Life is complicated.  People are complicated.  Moments are gone so quickly.  The feeling always remains.  

The crevices of my world hold nuggets of time and people and places.  Because my life was threatened at a very young age, I've learned to be grateful for the mundane things that truly make me happy and to always find some form of solace in simple pleasures.

Each time I sit to collect my thoughts, fears, dreams or joys and record them here, on this blog, I'm following my heart.  You see, my writing IS my life line.  Stringing my words together to form the  thoughts that make up my emotions is like peeking into my heart.

I love big.  I dream often.  I am full of gratitude.  I write from a place from within that I've always known existed but was too afraid to give a voice to.

My children are often my muse.  My husband is my constant.  My family are the link to my past, present and future and for this I am grateful.

I don't know what else this life will hand over but what I do know for sure is that I'm following my heart, am full of gratitude and there is nothing wrong with that.      
 

An Open Letter to Parents

Dear Fellow Parents,

I've found that being a parent has its rewards and struggles. Not everyday is a lovely, happy, exciting or spectacular day.

Then there are days that you feel like you're walking on a happy cloud, completely sober and actually enjoying every single moment with your child(ren).  I love these days.  I want to savor and soak up every single ounce of it.

Parenting is hard.  We love our children like we've never loved a living creature on earth before.
We wish upon them all the beauty and love that this life has to offer.

We make mistakes along the way.    

I was raised by an emotionally absent mother and my father was absent from my life until I was seventeen.  I had to make the best of my situation.  It was not easy.  Still, I love both of my parents and forgive their mistakes.  I'm no better than anyone else out there.  We all have a story to tell, some worse than others.

But this is not about my story, no, this is about parents as a whole.

I'm often struck at the level of unkindness and judgments that are placed upon parents.
Parents are not perfect in any way shape or form.  Parents are regular people trying to make the best decisions for their children.

There seems to be a giant void in the circle of parents.  This void encompasses all of our fears, challenges, struggles, inadequacies and insecurities.  These emotions are not easy for most of us.
We are complex in every way.

My question to most parents out there is this: Who are WE to judge other parents?

Why?

How does judging our fears, challenges, struggles, inadequacies and insecurities make us better parents?

Why?

How does kicking another parent when they're down make us better than them?

This makes me hurt.  This makes me sad.  This makes me question my fellow parents' level of love and compassion toward me and other parents.

I believe that every parent may face an incredibly challenging, scary or even life altering moment at some point in their parenting lives.  If and when this happens, parents will come looking for other parents' support and compassion, no matter what our differences may be.

I'd like to know that no matter our differences in parenting styles, disciplinary choices, rearing choices, etc., that parents as a whole will *try* to embrace a broader level of compassion and love toward one another.  

No one will ever know what it's like to live in another parents' shoes because we are all unique in our own ways.  No one will ever truly know our own children the way we the parents do.

Parents, let's be a bit kinder toward one another.

Parent's, let's be more compassionate toward one another.

Parents, let's be more respectful toward one another.

Parents, let's SHOW our children that we can live in a world where there are many differences but the one thing that speaks a universal language is LOVE and COMPASSION.

Sincerely & Compassionately,