Monthly Archives: March 2014

There is Something About a Letter

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There is something beautiful about a hand-written letter.

Someone sat at a table or desk and drew the letters that swirled, looped, dipped and slanted into words across a blue-lined paper. Hand writing is a dying art replaced by emails and text messages that can now be created by talking at a machine.

Effortless.
Thoughtless.
Passionless.

A hand-written letter gives a deeper message than any electronic device. Letters become wrinkled with tears and tattered with anger. Letters convey personality and conviction or fear and sadness. The written word, literally written, is as close as it gets to sitting next to a person while she speaks.

I suppose an electronic device could input closed captions like [weeping], [yelling] or [frightened tone]. … But doesn’t that sound awful?

I received a letter from my child-hood piano teacher today because I wrote her a couple months ago. Her letter, as brief as it was, touched my heart. It reminded me of my mom sitting at the kitchen table writing letters every Sunday. It made me feel happy, sad, grateful and proud. I heard her voice in the words and imagined her face.

There is something so beautiful, so magical, in a letter.

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Unintentionally Sad Blog Post

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One of my clients recently told me her children are 18 and 16 years old. I asked if her oldest was still home or off at college. This was her response…

My daughter is 18 and a senior. She is headed to college in the fall. I go back and forth between wanting to change the locks while she’s at school to following her around the house like a puppy saying, “Why do you want to leave me?” Wasn’t it just yesterday that I was cutting her grapes in half and sleeping on her floor when she had a fever? Sigh . .

You know in movies how something small, like a phrase or song, will cause the lead characters eyes to glaze over as the movie transitions to a black and white memory scene?

This is nothing like that.

But the email did bring tears to my eyes as I remembered my senior year of high school. My last year with my mom.

I remember summer 2004 when we would eat junk food and watch terrible TV. I remember awkward conversations. I remember laying my head on her shoulder for comfort. I remember questioning decisions in her life, only to have her catch me off guard or blow me away with her answer.

And I remember so much more, but those things would only embarrass me to share!

My senior year of high school, my mom and I began a transition from parent-child to parent-adult child, aka friendship. We never quite finished that transition, but I’m so glad we had the opportunity to begin that bond.

After forcing away the urge to cry, I smiled. I couldn’t bring myself to mention losing my mom. I don’t want to scare the woman! But I did write her this…

I remember my senior year with my mom. I learned so much about who she was.. How strong she was.. I say you have every right to follow your daughter around like a puppy. Give her extra hugs and kisses. Share some private mom/daughter time. She may not ever tell you, but it’s the best gift she’ll ever receive.

That goes for you, too, reader. I don’t care where you are at in your life, but you have every right to follow your children around and remind them of how much you love them. You never know when you won’t be there to remind them again.

End unintentionally sad blog post.

Absence-Induced Heart Fracture

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As I type this, HOS and I are driving farther and farther away from Charlotte. And tomorrow morning, we will get on a plane that will take us thousands of miles away. Each mile puts a little more pressure on my heart, and a little more worry in my mind.

I am blessed to work for an awesome company. We give thousands of dollars to the community, and the job has greatly improved our financial situation. Another great perk? My employers are taking everyone in the company (plus their respective significant others) to Cancun.

Awesome! Right?

I feel like I’m supposed to say yes. And when everyone in the office has been tanning, shopping and talking excitedly about the trip, I keep my head down…

Don’t get me wrong! I’m very appreciative. HOS and I have never taken a trip together. It will be great for us. I, however, am lacking the enthusiasm and excitement that is abundant at the office.

Honestly? The idea of both HOS and me being in a completely different country from our baby terrifies me. I experience a lot of anxiety, and my mind works through the worst possible scenarios.

Not to mention, we gave Charli hugs and kisses and laid her down for a nap at my aunt’s house. We left shortly after, so my precious baby woke up and we were no where to be found.

I feel like a terrible parent who abandoned her child.

Charlotte will hardly notice our absence during the next four days as she is spoiled by her great aunt and doted on by cousins. She will be at the house when we get home, happy and healthy.

I will fake it until I make it in Cancun, praying that the excitement will catch. I know I’ll enjoy three full days free from cooking and cleaning!

But tonight? Tonight, my heart will suffer a slight fracture from all these miles separating me Charli.