Eight Years?

By -
Three years ago I wrote this column: http://www.valleyplanet.com/article.php?id=1367

It still rings true. Amazing how some things never change. :(

Comments

Post a Comment

Popular posts from this blog

The Problem with Expectations

By -
Jake Ryan Gregg lays 10 feet from me; half on the dining room rug, half off. The bare wood floor is dark and pressed against his belly it cools his body. I scan him for signs of life. Slowly, his ribs expand and contract as I count his breaths to mine. One full for me, two – nearly three – for him. We are nine days from welcoming his twelfth year, three months from our 12-year anniversary. Expand and contract. My eyes can’t look away, even as they fill with tears. I walk to him and press my face against his failing body. Expand. And contract.
I won’t bore you with the story of our lives. I’m a dog mom, and not a novel one at that. Just like most dog moms, I love mine beyond words. I’ve taken him on countless walks. I’ve held him when he hurt. I’ve snuggled him when he was tired. I’ve joyfully met him at the door every time I opened it. And then one day it all changed. I am a mom. I knew.
“Diabetes,” the vet relayed on a mid-March morning. “Manageable,” she continued. By mid-April, manag…
Read more

Row, Row, Row Your Mind

By -
Image
I looked at the rowing machine’s monitor. Seven minutes in, I was just about to hit 1500 meters. Seven minutes later, 3316 meters flashed from the screen. The coach came around to check the monitors and wrote mine down – for women over 40 in the 7:45 a.m. class that Saturday morning at that Orange Theory, I went the furthest in the 14-minute row.      Pride came over me – even with a torn meniscus – I won! I snapped a few pictures to memorialize the moment.      At the grocery store deli counter, while my roast beef was getting sliced, I looked at the leader board picture I took at the gym. The board displayed the top distances rowed by gender and age. The three others crossed the 3700 mark. The deli clerk cleared her throat, commanding my attention. Meat in cart, off I went. “You totally could have rowed farther,” I compared their numbers to mine.      Despite winning, despite the torn meniscus, I should have rowed farther. But you see, the mind plays dirty tricks on us – tric…
Read more

Tell Me, Mr. Rowe

By -
Image
A handful of things strike my soul deeply. When two of them collide, I take it as the Universe giving me a shout out that things are just as they’re supposed to be.  This happened last night; these are the words I’ve woven together in honor of it.
I don’t remember the first time I heard “Drops of Jupiter” by Train.  It was in 1998, before I experienced Australia and before terrorism changed the world. I was a news producer in Birmingham and survived my first paralyzing heartbreak. Things had to change. I traded in a job for three months Down Under, leaving everything but nothing. I went looking for something - sure that it was hidden in the markets of Tasmania or the waters of Great Barrier Reef or the ruins of Port Arthur.  I danced along the light of day, only to be lonely looking for myself. 
Line for line the song speaks to my soul like nothing ever before and ever since.  It’s my song, its words woven in the fiber of my soul.  When that first cord is played, memories swirl, emotio…
Read more