All that's changed and remained the same

It's been far too long since I've written. I don't even know where to begin.

My evenings are spent with a giggling 7 month old, and her daddy is so in love with her that it makes my heart burst.

I spend my days in a public high school, 8 weeks away from graduating with my Master's.

So much has changed in the past year(s). I would like to say it's been the happiest of times, but as all life goes, there have been happy times and extremely dark times.

But here I am, loving my husband, loving my daughter, and loving my life.

Spring

The wind is a blust'rin', and the robins have come out.
Tryin' to stay steady while being tossed about.
The lilies are aching to open, the tulips want to bloom.
The sun is a shinin', and I hear a faithful tune.

Spring is in the air, friends! Spring is in the air!
Warmth is on its way, friends! Spring is in the air!

Counting

You say it doesn't count.

But it counts to me.

Months aren't the same as years. So what.

It's still an accomplishment. It's still the beginning of a journey. I still said yes to you instead of someone else.



You say it doesn't count.

But it counts to me.

Months aren't the same as years. So what.

It's still a month to celebrate. It's still the beginning of a race. I still like to remember I said yes to you instead of someone else.

How Can it Be?

How can it be a year and a half? Dancing, laughing, twirling. Etta James cooing in the background. The smell of fresh cut grass and hay. People laughing in the distance. The taste of sparkling cider fresh on my lips. Buttercream icing, waiting to be licked. A bouquet toss. A garter. An entire day's events strung together; a blur in my mind. Warm sun, excitement, destiny- all squished into something called love. Pure love. That's what's on my face and on yours too. Can we go back? No, but we can try.

Empty

Empty nesters they call us. We're supposed to enjoy this time.

No more children filling the house. No more schedules beyond our own.

Instead of freedom, there is silence. You smile at me from across the breakfast table.

Your eyes are smiling, but there's an emptiness behind them.

They are not the same eyes I married. They don't hold the same spark.

You reset your watch to tell you when it's time for your mid-morning nap.

Sticky notes cover our bedroom to remind you where your clothes are.

Rewind five years.

Not a citizen. No license. No purpose. That's what the judge said in his own words.

No jurisdiction. No penance. No punishment.

I still remember the tears blurring my eyes as I saw the defendant across the courtroom.

He had taken my husband and in one second across a center line, had turned him into a shell.

Gone was the man I married. All that was left was a glimpse of my husband.

It took you months to laugh. It took you even longer to say my name the way you once did.

Brain damage the doctor mentioned, over and over again. Patience. Understanding. Sacrifice.

I had no idea how a split second could change our lives forever.

How for better for worse, in sickness and health would be put to the test every single day.

Empty nesters they call us. Free to travel, enjoy, laugh, love. No inhibitions.

And instead, across the table I see your trembling hands and feel my trembling heart.

Some day. . .

Some day I shall get up the courage to share this blog with others besides my husband. . . some day.

The little blue house on Maple Boulevard

     In a little, blue house on Maple Boulevard, I grew up. Maples lined the street, and in the fall the leaves clogged the drains. Countless hours of making salads of whirly-gigs and leaves as big as my face took up my summers, and the asphalt saw many cuts and bruises from learning to use my skates and ride my bike. A little white picket fence bordered the front yard, and I'll never forget the giant Maple tree that took up its area.
     I'll never forget the year the tree came down. Ice storm of the decade, they said, and I remember daddy calling me out to see the magnificent ice fort nature had created just for me and my step brother. It was a beautiful thing to behold, and a child's delight.
     Sometimes I still drive down Maple Boulevard, curious to see how the current tenants have changed it, wondering if my bedroom still has the special treasure hiding spot in the closet floor, or if the yard is as big as I remember it being.