Now please dispense of said attitude and remember I'm not up early this morning but rather up late through the night, so have patience with the random and jumbled thoughts please.
There was a thick fog here last night. It wasn't a majestic fog that sits over a pond in the morning before the sun can burn through or even the type of fog that sits on my Lake late in the evening, almost as if to keep the memories of the day locked right there for just a moment longer. It was the type of fog that makes you pull your car to the side of the road and wonder if you are going to be able to make it home safely. So I sat there, at the top of the mountain {kinda}, for a moment.
It had been a while since I'd stopped. Life gets busy, plans get made and the calendar is booked up a month in advance. The TODO lists that give me such great satisfaction become the driving force of my days. Somehow the people that mean so much to me get pushed off for weeks, even a month, at a time because there just doesn't seem to be time to squeeze in a hello. I'm not sure when life became so busy or started moving so dang quickly. But when I stopped last night up on that mountain my mind began to do the whole unwinding thing.
At first it was the TODO list for tomorrow {or today} that won ~ the fresh office supplies that my team and I will use for the first time as we create our OCD world in the conference room in just a few hours, the laundry that could be done before I get back on a plane Saturday morning, the thank you cards that need to be written, the location of the birthday dinner. Then it was a review of the day ~ the PPI and welcome from Cache, the awkward while funny wink over lunch, East Coast learning about the restructure with WCF on the line, the frustration at the office supply store, the discussion of slavery over dinner, the use of the word invincible, and the fresh forced moment with Potter.
It was then the phone rang, CA. There was a part of me that didn't want to answer it, I had stopped and wanted to exist in my own little place for a minute longer, to let my mind wander for a bit and see where it would go. I answered in spite of that part of me and was glad to hear his voice. What I didn't realize is that this stopped moment had caused me to get emotional, contrary to what I may say sometimes or what I may show often I am a personal with feelings, I feel. So as I replied to his "How are you?" my voice broke, we were both surprised, perhaps me even more than CA ... I said I feel, not that I understand all of the feelings or why they exist. The questions came fast as he tried to figure out why I was crying. Because I was so caught off guard by myself I became defensive. Luckily for me, he's used to my ridiculous walls and automatic behavior. More questions came and within three minutes I knew why the tears existed. And it's nothing to go into now.
"French, what was it that your Uncle said to you?"
.jpeg)
I have a few uncles and they direct a lot of words at me but I knew exactly what he was talking about. It was that first and final letter from Uncle Mike. "You've been running around the country for the last three months for work and for family. Tonight was bound to happen." He didn't say anything for a bit as I shed some tears of exhaustion, grateful for the release and his understanding. "Lucky for you, you'll be here in the sunshine this weekend. Don't bring the fog though." He laughed at his own joke as I internalized his words, as a female does, with more weight and implication than he intended. He stayed on the line, although we both knew I was done talking for the night.
I allowed my mind to finish wondering, sitting up on the side of some road off of Wasatch, phone connected to silence and 55 degrees.
Thursday last I was sitting next to and across from CA, two together and with me we made three. It was a night, yep. CA to my left, always the one asking questions, attempting to avoid an odd moment, posed this question, "When was the last time you really felt lucky? Like really really lucky?" {asked honestly, not a la Dirty Harry} CA across from me immediately sited a winning night of Black Jack, naturally. I had no answer. The conversation moved on quickly without a response from CA to my left and myself, that particular grouping of humans doesn't do comfortable silence.
Is lucky and blessed the same thing? I don't know. But maybe it's just a matter of semantics.
I sent out three group texts about different things from Park City this weekend and only one of my humans, of 16, replied to all. My people are smart!
My straightener, a $173 investment made by me while Girlfriend and Cowboy were my main concern, fell to the hard hotel bathroom floor while I was in Phoenix but that little red light turned on and the magic wand heated up to 400 degrees to manage my hair.
While in CA I was able to see all of my CAs within a 48 hour period.
Even with a new position at work the month of May is still dedicated to a land far far away.
The man that will have his name on that second page, the one on the left, of my book has more patience with me and my thoughts than I thought possible in a professional setting.
My peanut butter jar seems to be created by the same people that created Mary Poppins carpet bag.
Friday night I was surrounded by some of the most kind and genuine people, not of my particular faith and in fact with logical reason they had every right to not be such, but rather they reminded me of just how innately good the human race can be.
Kevin Bacon returned in The Following this week.
My studies of baseball have led me to believe I saved the easiest sport to understand for last.
Boy did it too so the judgement wasn't as harsh as it could have been.
With three weeks of laundry laying in my hamper, on my floor, and in my yet unpacked suitcase, I still can steer clear of the washer as I'm heading back to warmth and therefore am in a separate summer wardrobe.
Papa's Friday texts are coming from mainland America.
The accountant man next to me on my flight to Santa Anna last week smelled like every guy I kissed my sophomore year of college, thank you Aqua Di Gio, and was calm in the face of a 50 minute flight next to an anxious flyer.
CA is able to reference words of Uncle.
Those leaving my office are still sincerely smiling.
Falling asleep to episodes of Sam/Josh/Toby often lend to dreams on that side of the country, in that wing of the House, with those three.
I can usually get that knuckle at the base of my thumb to crack.
Cowboy's birthday just happens to be the day before work needs me in the neighboring zip code.
Pete and Wendy are 'on' for the next two weeks at the House on the Hill before a rotation is put into place that I'll have to figure out.
Doc was willing to give me that information.
My Spanish is good enough for the people I'm talking to.
Ernie Halter now exists in my life.
Krasinski's voice comes on to provide esurance to the football watching population.
CA spoke up after some minutes and offered solutions to problems, as he does. And then I put Bleu into drive and came back down the mountain, very slowly.
I'm lucky. Or blessed. I have emotions and confusions just like every human on the planet. And just like so many in that same group, I forget to recognize the great joy it is to be me. Yep, moments in the fog happen. Sometimes, like last night though, the literal fog comes to force a realization. Its not anything new or profound, nothing brilliant that should be quoted at the bottom of every email you send from your inbox. Rather it is the realization that helps me see through the fog, the realization that my life is mine to live. It is full of daily choices and checklists, created by me. But I've only the chance to joyfully live this moment, this early morning moment, once. Uncle was right. CA posed a good question. Bing sang truth written by Mr. Berlin. It's my choice.
"We cannot recycle or save the time allotted to us each day.
With time, we have only one opportunity for choice, and then it is gone forever.”
Apostle Crush
