Category Archives: emotion

A little water goes a long way

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“It takes a long time to grow an old friend.” ~ John Leonard

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 There is something inherently great about spending time with someone who just gets you.  You never feel the need to have to defend your point of view and you feel comfortable sharing your deepest personal feelings, your laughter and your tears without any fear of judgement.

I am deeply blessed to have many of those friends in my life.  There are some who I see regularly, some who are separated from me by provinces, there are some out of touch by circumstance and there is one in particular who has mysteriously reappeared after we let decades slip past.  But, in each case, we have been able to pick up where we left off and the glue that binds our relationship remains intact.

Friendships like these have sustainability like the house plants you had in your dorm room during college or university.  They may have been neglected and not received the water required to grow, but somehow, miraculously, they continued to thrive and flourish although they were not given the consideration they could have received had they been tended to daily.

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True friendships will continue to grow and spread their roots deeper into the soil of the relationship.  And whether they are watered frequently or left for weeks at a time to fend for themselves, good friendships will sustain themselves during the lonely times and blossom during the moments they are nurtured.

It does take a long time to grow an old friend but it is certainly time well spent.

Welcome to the party – who brought my past as my present?

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Bring the past, only if you’re going to build from it. ~ Domineco Estrada

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I am a big fan of Criminal Minds.  It is one of the only shows I watch with any consistency.  It is an hour of television that does not make me want to change the channel and most episodes begin or end with an inspiring quote to preface or summarize the plot.  The above quote, from the show, gave me the kick I needed to get out of the rut I’ve been in lately.

I have not intentionally been dwelling in the past but snippets of my days-gone-by have been playing in my mind like frames from the old reel-to-reel movies.  They have maneuvered their way out of my subconscious and wormed their way deep into the recesses of my brain.  Fragments of those memories unexpectedly bubble to the surface and simmer long enough to permeate my continual thought process.

I am not ashamed of anything I have done in my past.  Those recollections have not been reintroduced to make me feel regret about any choices I have made.  They have merely reappeared to remind me of the lessons I have learned and to help me appreciate the wisdom I carry beneath my battle scars.  And though these trips down memory lane have been taken unwittingly, they have served to remind me of where I have been and where I prefer to never go again.  

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I have chosen not to bury my past but to use it as the foundation for the life I continue to build.  Those blocks of my lapsed memories serve as a strong support structure.  They ensure that my present and my future are ready to withstand any storm that comes my way by giving me a solid structure to lean on in times of doubt.  Those hidden gems of guidance will always serve as the backbone of my existence and the building blocks to my future.

Discovering what is hidden

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Admittedly, I am going through withdrawal.  I have not gone on a cleanse nor have I given up an addiction but I find myself recently emancipated from certain friends who truly know my soul and I feel somewhat lost.

Cultivating a friendship from a distance becomes easier as more time passes.  The initial shock of distress subsides and the feeling of isolation is adapted to and accepted.  But when that friendship is reanimated at a one-on-one level it makes the strain of separation that much more painful when those friends have to leave again.

I had effortlessly assimilated to a quiet lifestyle and one that I enjoy very much.  I had been very content to come home to an idyllic piece of property in a secluded location that I share only with my dog.  I had become ensconced in a life of post-work anonymity.   And then the axis of my world shifted.

After decades of being complacent, I found my mind wandering.  After years of feeling satiated, I found myself yearning for something I had not known I was seeking.  The thought of a different lifestyle became abundantly clear and my mind was in turmoil.

I have not invited any of these conceptions into the realm of my existence at this point, but knowing I have the opportunity to entertain these strange thoughts is exciting.  Having the ability to welcome these curious ideas into my life is liberating.  And just thinking that there is another chapter of my life possibly waiting to be written is extremely enticing.

“We are so accustomed to disguise ourselves to others that in the end we become disguised to ourselves.” ~ Francios de La Rochefoucauld

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I want to think I have not lost myself in the process only to discover I have missed out on writing that new chapter.  I wish to believe that the well of ink still exists and will allow me to continue creating the story that is my life.  And I will never know if that story continues here or exists in another place until I become brave enough to turn that next page.

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

The dog days of summer….and fall

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Working in the hospitality business goes hand in hand with working strange and long hours.  I can adapt to the hours but my dog is the one who takes the brunt of my lifestyle.  I will never leave her outside on a chain to battle the elements – she is firmly ensconced in our home, lazily spending her hours watching the wildlife from the comfort of my bed.  I have several people who are more than willing to come over and let her out during the day because she is such a happy dog and, for me, having her be the excuse to leave work for thirty minutes is wonderful.  She is never a prisoner in her home – she is akin to a wealthy home owner with servants to look after her every whim.

During these long days, I often wonder how she bides her time.  Is she going through kitchen cabinets?  Has she mastered the satellite remote?  Does she inventory my refrigerator?  But each day when I get home from my struggle to survive my sometimes 10-14 hour days, she is there to greet me and nothing in the house seems out-of-place.  Until a few months ago…..

I returned home from my usual work day and I was greeted by the reassuring excitability that I have come to expect.  The house, as usual, was completely intact.  The garbage was untouched and the serene ambiance wrapped its arm around my shoulder and pulled me into its embrace to welcome me home.

My attention was immediately diverted to the duvet cover and what seemed to be a single article of clothing bunched up in the middle of the bed.  It wasn’t shredded and remained intact, however the entire shirt was extremely damp.  She had been licking my shirt for the better part of who knows how long, focusing on the remnants of deodorant I had left behind.  The baffling thing was, had I not known where the shirt was originally, I would never have known how she got to it.  My closet is masked by a cloth shower curtain that poses itself as a makeshift door.  Somehow, she was able to remove the shroud of the curtain, gingerly lift the shirt from the pile of laundry in the basket and replace the curtain so nobody would catch on to her devious plot.

As much as I miss her during my day, it struck me at that moment how much she truly missed me during her day.  The writing was on the wall, or in this case on the bed.  My scent comforted her during her lonely day and it made my heart ache to realize that fact.  We have a very close bond and one that she feels as much as I do.

I can only take solace in the fact that my work days will soon become shorter and more structured.  My time with her will increase and perhaps her need to be close to my deodorant-saturated shirts will abate somewhat because I will be here in the physical form and not just the odoriferous form.

And who knows, perhaps in the meantime I can save myself a fortune on laundry.

What is close enough?

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I have admitted before that my guilty pleasure is anything to do with “The Bachelor”, “The Bachelorette” or “Bachelor in Paradise”.  The shows are a ridiculous waste of time but time that allows me to indulge in absurd adult behavior caught on film and edited in a fashion that allows the viewers to quickly form opinions, not necessarily their own, about the participants on “reality television” but leave reality completely behind.

After the most recent publicly humiliating break-up, a female contestant was asked if she was in love with the man who broke her heart.  Her inane response, through a shower of tears, was, “No, but it was close enough.”.

That line stuck with me for a long time after the show ended.  Through a furrowed brow, I frequently went back to that line and mulled over how sad a life she must lead if she is merely willing to settle for close enough.  I know I am giving too much attention to a line on a television show that was edited for its shock value but it made me think about how many people suffer from the same yearning of just wanting to believe they have found that special person.

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This past weekend I was privileged to witness, and be part of, a ceremony that was leaps and bounds past close enough.  Two people, who are a perfect fit, pledged their love to each other in front of family and friends this past Saturday.  Their connection to each other redefines the opposite of close enough.  Their body language sounds louder than an orchestra.  Their eye contact portrays more emotion than a well-directed Hollywood romance.  And their genuine affection and care for each other is as conspicuous as snow in July.

Although I have a few more years under my belt, this past weekend they taught me a life lesson about what it is to truly find the person you were meant to be with.  There is no close enough.  There is no settling.  Love has one definition and there is no room for interpretation.  Love has no voice, only actions.  Anyone can say ‘I love you’ but it is the person that is willing to show you that love who will truly capture your heart.

Robert Heinlein said it and I quoted him in my toast to the happy couple ~ “Love is that condition in which the happiness of another person is essential to your own.”

They have found that love.  And I can only hope that everyone has, or one day will have, the great fortune of finding a love that is close enough to the that bond these two share.

 

 

 

 

 

2 more sleeps lead to 2 important words

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As the dusk envelops an absolutely beautiful day, I prepare myself for one of the remaining two sleeps until my best friend walks down the aisle.  The last-minute details are falling into place.  Decorations are being completed, rehearsals are being performed and speeches are being fine-tuned.  And for me, the cake is being designed and the tissues are being collected and stored in accessible pockets.   The day is near.  Time has passed unusually quickly and the dawn of her wedding day is almost upon us.

We sat tonight, a group of random strangers who immediately became friends because of a common bond we have with the bride and groom, and we shared some precious moments leading up to the big day.  Not only did I meet some wonderful people, but I inexplicably became engaged to a delightful couple from Calgary!

Weddings bring out the best in people.  There is something inherently special about celebrating two people who have found “their person”.  There are details.  There are embellishments.  There is food, wine and dancing.  But above all of the tangible things associated with a wedding, there is a deep-rooted knowledge that the only really important detail about the wedding day is love.

I will proudly make my way down the aisle to stand beside my best friend as she says the two words that will mark the beginning of her new journey.   May they both remember the path that led them here and may they both embrace the adventure they are about to begin.

It’s not what we have in life, it’s who we have in our life that matters.

Clearing my own sky

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Lost in the clouds,

wondering where I have gone.

Have I been trapped in the light,

or lost in the wisps of reality?

The true me is there somewhere,

obscured between the light and the shadow,

pushing my way out from behind my feigned existence.

I have been living,

but there should be more life in my life.

There is so much more to me

than the me I currently am.

But how do I harness that concealed energy?

How do I reign in

that part of me that exists in my mind?

How do I grip that vapor,

and turn it into something real,

something tangible,

something I can take from those clouds

and make it a genuine part of my world?

How do I brush those clouds away

so the lightest parts of me can shine?

What life is really about….

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As the eve of a hectic work day pulls the shade of night down over the day, I am blissfully distracted from the bewilderment of the myriad of events that unfolded to create that hectic day.  I am fortunate to be able to cast those disquieting moments aside and dwell on the touching moment from the previous night.

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Making cakes is a process I enjoy immensely.  It truly allows me to lose myself in the creative process and pour my heart into something I love.  I create with the purpose of wanting to make the occasion that much more special by making a simple birthday cake into a much more personal experience.  Very rarely do I get a glimpse through the eyes of the intended recipient but on Saturday night I was able to see the joy from the other side.

I was the one holding the cake as the birthday song began.  I was the one to present the cake to a very surprised birthday girl.  And I was the one who most appreciated the tears of joy that welled in the corners of her eyes.  It was a truly touching moment for me.

Her reaction made every ounce of my effort worthwhile.  Her heartfelt emotion made every tedious detail on that cake worth each extra moment I took to make them as close to perfect as I could get them.  It may be just a Scrabble cake to some but to her it was the first personalized cake she had ever had and I was moved to tears to be the person that created that memory for her.

That one moment will play over and over in my head as I am laboriously working into the evening hours on my next cake project.  And when my wrists are tired from kneading fondant and my hand is beginning to shake with exhaustion when I am trying to pipe the last details on a cake, I will remember the look on her face and summon that next wind to keep going.

Life is about counting the memories and not the calories.

 

 

 

A place on my shelf but a much bigger place in my heart

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Perhaps it had been sitting on his shelf, collecting dust, for a few years.   He probably looked at it frequently, knowing that I would be in possession of it some day in the future and I’m sure, deep down, he knew he would not be the one to present it to me.

It arrived on my doorstep a few days after learning of his passing the week prior.  I was crushed to hear that he had left us.  But the sentiment in the gift is just as heart-felt now as it would have been had he been able to give me the gift himself because that gift meant that he valued the relationship we had developed.

It began 20 years ago.  I was working a summer job in the pro shop at a resort and he was a man hosting a charity golf tournament to raise money to find a cure for the illness that took the life of one of his children.  As a family, they hosted that tournament every year and I was happy and honored to become a part of it every spring.

As our relationship developed, so too did the amount of time we spent outside of the tournament hours.  Our Friday afternoon “meeting” before the Saturday tournament consisted of a “two-finger” pour of rye and coke.  I made my way back to my office in a bit of a haze since his two-finger measure was his index finger and pinky finger with a good inch and a half in between.  Had I been a smoker, I would have been extremely concerned about having an open flame so close to the fumes I was exhaling!

He was charming and he was a dedicated family man.  He always had a kind word, a comforting hug and a heart of gold.  The family tournament came to an end when his health was a bigger concern.  I eventually changed jobs and we lost touch, apart from the odd phone call, but I always have and always will carry him close to my heart.

God speed, Tom.  You were a special part of my life on this Earth and you will be a very special part of my memories.