A Beautiful Day

Ah...Saturday.

I was surrounded by community and relationships and love.

A good friend came over to impart his wisdom on pruning.  We attempted recovery on our sad little apple tree in the backyard.  Pruned off several branches from other trees.

I was outside essentially from 9:15 in the morning until about 4:45 in the afternoon.

We worked in our yard all day: cleaning up, raking out the dead leaves, making room for Spring's sunshine to reach into the soil.  It felt lovely.

But my favorite part?  Working alongside Mr. C.

We cleared out a huge junk pile of wood from the back corner of our yard.

Side by side, we threw piece by piece into our friend's trailer.  

When I asked him what time his guitar lesson was, he told me he'd cancelled it.

When he left to go to the dump to get rid of our first load of wood, I realized what that meant.  He had cancelled his lesson (without me knowing) to get work in the yard done that he knew meant a lot to me.  

That's love.

The kids woke up from their nap and came out as we loaded the second (and final) trailer load.

My picture memory?

Our family together, late afternoon, discussing the landscape of this piece of ground.

Working together.

Talking together.

Living simply.

These are big goals of mine.

But then?

My sweet dad watched the kids and we went on a date.

We showered our sun-kissed skin and dusty hair and got smelling better.

Mr. C. said, "That's right, boys...she's my beautiful wife."

We went to dinner.

Tried the art museum but it was closed.

So, we strolled through a few stores, spending the longest in Williams-Sonoma oogling over things we'd love to buy, food we want to make, gorgeous pasta bowls and beautiful cutting boards, pink grapefruit candles (YUM), recipes, oven mitts, odd-sized measuring cups, grilling tools and bbq sauces.  We lost ourselves in there.

I love being with him.

I know he's got my back.

He is my friend of friends.

Letters

 (pics of my Mom with Mia)

 My mom made a big move to the Middle East this past weekend for a new job.

I am so proud of her.

She's almost 61, and went to teach at a school that was founded with the express purpose of educating women to be leaders.
I think it's brave.  She went without knowing anyone.
I love my mom.
From her example she teaches me to think for myself, to stand alone if that's what it means, to be honest in my feelings and how I express them, to be brave, to be okay in my own skin, to not stop learning, to be considerate of others, to never laugh at or mock something different from myself and to respect all peoples.

That's a tall order.

I'm trying to live up to them.

I love these legacies.
This is something to be proud of.
Thank you, Mom.

Each day we're doing schoolwork, we do something with reading and something with writing.
So, we wrote letters last week. 
To my grandparents, who we were going to visit.



 To give well wishes to my mother, beginning this new chapter and adventure.


 We added scratch-n-sniff stickers.
 And wrote these cards for my sister who is recovering from knee surgery AGAIN.


These are so cute I couldn't not share them.
I am proud of these boys.

Mia wanted to write letters, too, so I helped.



As I was getting ready to post these the other day, I thought about how much I love letters.

Super heart heart love them.
They are so romantic and timeless.
There is something about taking the time to put pen to paper, to personalize them with your own handwriting, something that calls back yesteryear in today's frenzy of gmail and text and everything quick quick quick. It's a beautiful thing to take the time for personal, quaint, charming touches that say I CARE.
I've written a few letters in my day.
I think about the role they've played in my life.
I have cards and letters saved in the hope chest at the foot of my bed, in scrapbooks, tucked in corners of desks and stacks to be organized into meaningful reminiscences.
Each a tangible reminder of someone significant in my small world, of a specific time, of how that person influenced and blessed my life.

I went to the letters that Scott and I exchanged on his mission.  
We have four huge binders of letters.

 I looked at the fun letterheads, at the cutouts of Calvin & Hobbes' comic strips, various pics that were part of this or that joke, nicknames, bunches of hand-drawn flowers.

I choked up as I read expression after expression at the beginning or ending of his letters to me -- about what an amazing woman he thought I was, about being such a lucky guy, about how beautiful I was, how special I was to him.
He was so focused as a missionary, so dedicated.
(In fact, later on, I wished he would say a few more of those cute things because he was so into the work.  I knew he loved what he was doing, 100%.  But it was lovely he was so dedicated to truth that I felt so passionately about, too.)  

I knew he had me tucked away in a safe place, tho.
I was reminded of this the other day, and became pretty emotional.

I had forgotten.
One of my favorite parts that I read in those few minutes was a snippet where he remembered the night that he really kissed me for the first time.  And he said something like, "Honestly, I knew I wanted to be with you forever from that night."
I'm more grateful today for his companionship than I was then.
We've been through a helluva lot more.
I feel more bound to him.
But I look back and I see these seeds that were planted.
I see things I've forgotten.
I felt gratitude again.
I felt like a little dry, parched piece of earth in my memory of time got some rain, and little flowers remembered how to grow over there.
A beautiful, shocking, outcropping of wildflowers abloom again.

I plan to order a copy of THIS book I read years ago, but want to read again.

I keep thinking about it.
I loved it.
This is a lovely, lovely compilation.
So romantic.
So sweet and genuine.
Charming and heartfelt.
Inspiring.

Maybe you wanna order it too and get into the valentine love?
And maybe you also wanna join my personal goal for the week and send out a few handwritten somethings?
A card, a letter, something genuine and with a personal touch?
I do, I do!

Learning What It Means

I got fidgety.

Never loved the wintery mantle.

Still haven't figured something out for January that I totally love up there.

So I went on to love month, and decided that from here on out, I'll probably just celebrate the love directly after Christmas.  Why not?

As I got into it, I realized I wanted to celebrate the love we have for each other -- beginning as a couple, morphing into family.

And I wanted it simple.

 Family photos.
I chose the candid sepia photo we used for our wedding announcement.

My current most fave picture of Mimi with her dad.

The pic of me laughing as the boys were trying to smooch my cheeks.

The mantle became an expression of something I've been thinking about a lot lately.

The other night Scott and I were talking about the progress we can both see and feel
 that has been made in our relationship in the last year.

I've thought a lot lately about how the person you marry becomes such a significant choice.

You don't even realize how significant it is when you are doing it, even if you hear yourself saying, "This is a HUGE decision, a HUGE choice."

You don't know that yet.

But it's really starting to sink in for me.

When I come away from gatherings with folks that I love dearly, and feel that comfort in knowing that I don't have to explain myself to him.  He understands me in some ways where I don't have to say a whole lot.

That he loves my kids the same way that I do, because they are his, too.

That we have such a collective history, becoming more and more intertwined.

That he has seen, and accepted, a lot of my weaknesses and still is there for me anyway.

That he has forgiven a lot.

We've walked through several trials together, some pushing us apart, and then have had to fight to come back together.

Sometimes that feels like a crazy uphill climb.

But more and more, I just realize how much we share.

It doesn't mean that he always gets me or I get him.

It doesn't mean that we have 100% crossover of our interests and what we understand.

It doesn't mean we always like the same stuff or share the same opinion.

It doesn't mean we respond to everything the same way.

It doesn't mean we always understand each other and never ever get in a fight because of miscommunication (insert: hahahaha).

What I'm learning though?

It DOES mean it's about letting someone enrich your life, being willing to open up and not be scared of the differences or the beauty you find there.

It's about having a companion, and being a companion to someone else.

It's knowing you have someone to go home to, knowing someone will be there.

It's about recognizing the dual journey,and learning to count the steps together and not the differences.

It's about learning how to make better choices and grow up.

It's about humbling yourself and making it not about YOU, but about US.
It's about thinking about the other person, and how they feel.

This can be hard stuff, folks.

Lately for me it has been thinking a lot about being loving.

Choosing to love.

Not expect.

Not define.

Not put within a certain bracket.

Not compare.

Rather, I am trying to appreciate and respect more.

The more I honestly practice this and focus, the more I find to appreciate and respect.

The more I AM a companion, the more I notice how he is that back brace for me, too.

It's a continual give-give.

We have a lot of love to celebrate, a lot of learning and growing and stretching.

Not to mention the 3 little people we have now that just further us.

And being a family doesn't mean you have it all figured out or that things are always pretty.

It's about having someone to share the journey with, someone who helps you learn and discover a lot about yourself.

It means trying and loving and working at it the best you can, and noticing the miracles that happen along the way.

A Sunday Funny

A week ago we were driving to my Mom's for Thanksgiving dinner.

I drove so Scott could read to the children (so we wouldn't end up with one of us carsick).  ;)

We were reading one of the Grimm Fairy Tales.

The children requested "Six Servants."

At the beginning of the tale, you read about a prince who has come from another land seeking the hand of a "dazzling" princess.  Her mother is a witch-queen who requires that any lad seeking her daughter has to accomplish three tasks.  The tasks are, of course, too difficult for any mortal to accomplish on their own.  So, of course, all previous gentlemen have failed.

When the prince arrives he says to the Witch Queen, "You have a beautiful Princess daughter.  I intend to win and wed her, and am ready for any task you may set me."

At which point, Scott stopped reading and turning around to the kids, said, "That's what I said to Poppi about your mom."  Then, as if talking to my dad, he continued, "You have a beautiful daughter.  I intend to win and wed her, and am ready for any task you may set me."

How gallant.

Pretty sure that's not how it went down, but oh boy.

It was funny, nonetheless.

I am glad, though, that he was willing to take a chance on me.

Today

Today the boys woke me up just after 7:00. After telling them it was too early to come out yet and going back to our bed to hopefully sleep a little longer before it was time to get up, I found Mia awake. (She had been in bed next to me.) The boys, surprisingly, were quiet, and after about 30 minutes or so, I saw Mia starting to get tired. She and I lay there in the quiet, and after watching her close her eyes a couple times, I closed mine. I woke up probably 30 minutes later. Went in to get the boys, changed dirty, wet diapers and opened the curtains in their room. All three of us ate cheerios with bananas at the kitchen counter. A beautiful snowstorm came last night -- so beautiful I wanted to watch it fall in the quiet instead of sleeping -- or take a walk, or go for a run with Scott in it. But, instead, I watched it falling from our bedroom window, and then, just before falling asleep, I walked out onto the back porch and stood there watching it fall. The world was lighter and still. I watched the trees getting weighed down, each branch getting highlighted instead of blending into the otherwise several-hundred-dark-branches of a tree in wintertime. I stood back at the window, watching again, before climbing into bed and watched the trees and wondered how something I've seen over and over again can still startle me and seem new, something magical, like I haven't ever fully recognized its beauty, like I'd forgotten it somehow. This morning, consequently, was beautiful. After breakfast I helped both boys into their snowsuits and boots and mittens. I snapped photos of them tromping around the backyard. After Mia went down, we went for a walk. I didn't hurry the boys as we walked around the block. We went at their pace. I was in between Isaiah, who was leading the pack, and Benji -- a very slow caboose today. We stopped at the park on the next corner and built a small snowman just off the sidewalk. They played on the slides, not really bothered at all by all the wet snow. We walked home and stopped at the neighbor's house and said hello. When we came in we took all our wet stuff off in the bathroom. The boys got in the tub, playing in the water and bubbles. Scott came home and I went for a run. When I came home it was time for lunch and naps. I got the boys in bed and lay down with Mia the way I always do at naptime. I nursed her laying down the way I always do, her little body pulled into mine, and she clutched my hand with hers, holding my fingers -- the way she always does. We slept a couple of hours. When we awoke I realized, happily, that Scott was just about to come home. I had Mia in my lap and the boys on the bed by me and we read 4 1/2 stories. Scott got the boys dinner. We all had leftovers. The boys went out in their snowsuits again for 15 minutes or so. Scott got them ready for bed. We read scriptures together on our bed. As I was preparing to put Mia down, he was reading them their bedtime story. We had family prayer together. I tucked Mia in, and then went to sing to the boys with Scott. I lay down in Isaiah's crib with him and we sang for awhile and he laughed while we played with his binky (I'd bite it and then spit it back out in his face). Then I lay down with Benj and we sang some more. Scott had gone down to shower. He came up just as we were finishing. We said goodnight to them. And then Scott and I watched a movie tonight that made me think about the joy and deep beauty that fills my life. And I am talking about the whole package, the good and the bad. It increasingly becomes more beautiful to me. When Scott and I met and dated -- and then eventually married -- it was just the two of us. But both of us had the anticipation of those we would bring here, of the people that would continue us, be a part of us, make us complete. Now I have moments, when we're all together, that amid the noise or activity that we're doing, or conversation we're having or song we sing together with little voices chiming in -- that I often think to myself, "This is it. Look at these people. Look at what we've created. Isn't this beautiful?"

I felt renewed gratitude tonight for Scott and for this journey. I'm thankful to him for his desire to do this too, for being supportive of my dreams, for the way he is such a sweet and good father, for the sweetness of the man that he is. I feel grateful that we have chosen to have a family, to share this joy, to be together. And the best part is that if anyone asked me what I'd have if I could have anything I ever wanted, my life's dream or ambition? The best part is that I honestly could say I'm living it. Right now. I'd choose this.

My love in Rock Canyon

The other night I took a drive around the city, and I listened to the song Never Saw Blue Like That by Shawn Colvin (click on the link for a listen). It was late, and the darkness seemed to curl around me, making the car feel safe and warm. I pulled into the Rock Canyon parking lot, the mountains looming before me in the darkness. Gazing at the stark, cool stars, I wanted to get out of the car and hike up, up, up. Maybe it was because of the song -- but I felt very nostalgic. I thought about the night hikes that Scott and I took up that canyon when we were getting to know each other. That nervous moment, off the path, when we looked down at the river in the moonlight -- and I think both of us knew it would be the perfect moment to kiss, but we headed back to the path instead. Long conversations up that canyon in the darkness. Using our bums as sleds to fly down the hillside in the snow. Leaving my parka at the first bridge and hiking up higher, only to forget and leave it when we (literally) came running down the canyon to the car to get me home for my date with a different boy at 8:00 that night. Hiking up that canyon on a frosty February 14th, knee deep in snow, where he asked me to be his wife in the serenity of that beautiful place. Gorgeous moon, river thundering below in the quiet dark. I think we were the only two people there. And then, later, pregnant and heading up in the afternoon sunlight when burnt afternoon amber bathes the canyon. In that light, bouldering on the rocks with Scott, he turned and looked at me and told me I was beautiful.

Just being there brought all of this back. It's where we got to know each other, where my perspective was forever changed because of this man that I love. Like the song says, he figuratively made me see blue with a brilliance I'd never seen before.

My heart felt lighter, life was prettier, things were funnier, love was real and thick.

Seems symbolic that it was a canyon where much of it began. Seems the perfect analogy.

Sometimes it's rocky, but as we climb higher and higher, the vastness on either side of us is more breathtaking.

I look at our two beautiful boys. Think about what we've shared together since those early memories. Although this terrain has never been traveled before, and isn't for the faint of heart, it is what I wanted.

The dark stillness reminded me of this.

(And it made me want to hike again.)

I love this man of mine.

Late Night Realization

After a lovely film, two throwing up sessions from one of our babes, cleaning the bathroom, a run to the store, and a late pumping session, I was finally retiring to bed last night. Here's what happened.

The 411.

Details.

Our room was dark. I usually kneel down for my night prayers outside the room, but I was anxious to get into bed and just opted to pray right there. As I knelt down, I bumped Scott's arm or something -- but didn't think anything of it. He didn't really react.

Finishing my prayer, I was kind of startled to have his hand grab my forearm. In the dark. Naturally, I reached out and touched him, only to have him freak out, obviously terrified. I climbed into bed and quickly whispered, "Honey, it's me," to which he didn't respond. I snuggled up to him from behind and found his hand up by his shoulder. When he felt my face there, he started to stroke my face. I asked him,

"Did you think that somebody was leaning over me?"

He muttered something about the affirmative, but that was about it.

So then...I lay there, enjoying the snuggles, but kind of freaked out about who he had thought I was.

C-r-e-e-p-y.

But then, happily, I had this awesome realization:

"My man was goin' to save me!"

I lay in bed feeling all happy and comfy -- those protective instincts were for me and he was freaked out at the prospect of anything happening to me.

So, essentially, the last thought of my night was this:

It's nice to be loved.

My Good Choice

One of my good friends that I've known for almost 10 years came over to visit last night. I love and care about this friend, and through the years, we've had several "heart to heart" conversations, as they say -- about life, disappointments, failures, yearnings, etc. My friend has been through a lot in his life, is divorced and trying to move forward. I love my friend. He has a big spirit and deep questions and he tries hard to be honest with himself.

So...when we've always had our deep conversations in the past, we usually have just talked over the phone. He's never really had the opportunity to get to know my husband. When he headed over last night, I wasn't sure how this would go down, if he'd feel comfortable opening up to someone that he virtually didn't know. It was neat for me to sit back and watch my friend and my husband that I love get to know each other, and neat to watch my friend open up with both of us. We put camp chairs out on our front lawn and enjoyed good conversation amidst the busy traffic of our street. It was like being enclosed, feeling quaint and quiet despite the noise. We snacked on pretzels and red vines and chatted about good books we've read and life experiences. It was so nice.

But, as a result of that little gathering, I've been thinking last night and today about some of the things that I most love about my husband. My friend was talking about how, in his former marital relationship, he felt very threatened by his ex's former boyfriends (romantic interests or otherwise), acknowledging that this was primarily because he didn't feel secure enough about he and his wife, something that he feels he would like to do differently if there's ever another time around. I realized something, again, that I love about Scott. Since we've been married, he's never been threatened by my keeping in contact with old guy friends -- even if the past held romantic interests with those people. I can talk openly with him about conversations I have with them now, past loves, past feelings, and it's really great because he isn't threatened by those things. And I love that. The really cool thing was that as I thought of this thing I love, I also came up with a bunch of other things that have grown in value since I married Scott -- things that I really appreciate about him. So, please excuse the personal reflection, but that's what a blog's about, right? Here's what I came up with:

• He doesn't tell me how to live my life; rather, he encourages me to be my own person, to be who I want to be


• He is never threatened by my opinions
  
• He has taken my friends as his own and gotten to know all of them, even coming in as the outsider
  
• Anything I want to do, he wants me to do it


• He is my best friend
  
• Going on with that, we can talk for ever and ever about tons of things. (That's another thing we talked about last night -- how it is/was imperative for all of us to be with someone that likes to philosophize and talk about ideas and concepts and loves good intellectual discussion -- this is a must for me! This was one of the biggest reasons why I was attracted to Scott -- it was what our relationship was based on...talking and talking about anything and everything and becoming familiar with who he was and what he thought about life and what his philosophies were. This has only richened since we've gotten married and we both love to read and discuss things and see what the other thinks about stuff. He has become more interesting to me that way.)


• I like that he will listen to me, for however long it takes, with all of my tangents included, never teasing me about it or making me feel dumb for sometimes taking forever to get to a point...he genuinely cares and wants to know.

• He has brought lots of new things to my life that have enriched it and made me think beyond my own box

• He loves books and ideas and family and adrenaline, another thing I love. Just this past Saturday I was out for a run with a friend and was talking about how that's another thing that attracted me to him...that he had UMPH!, that he loved adrenaline, that he's a "man's man." But at the same time, he'll do stuff like watch "Pride & Prejudice" with me, or "Anne of Green Gables," or any other type of movie like that with me (we just watched "Sense & Sensibility" the other night). He watches them with me with no complaints, and actually likes them. I love that. I have the best of both worlds.
  
• He's willing to do things totally different or try completely new things and he's happy with it. He's really adaptable and puts up with just about anything -- nothing is a BIG deal, it's mostly water off a duck's back. One example: I was raised without a TV. As a young girl, we'd try to head to the neighbors to catch favorite shows or go to Grandma's. Sometimes I really thought I wanted one as a young girl (kind of felt cheated), until an experience that made me realize otherwise -- but that's a whole 'nother post. BUT, that being said, as I approached adulthood, I was grateful to my parents for raising us without one and I felt that I wanted to do the same thing with my future family/children. But, of course, that was contingent upon what the guy that I married thought. Scott, on the other hand, was raised with a TV, and had experienced a lot more than I had, in many, many ways. (He was much more introduced to the world and open to different ideas and people and experiences -- way more accepting and just, well, OPEN. I guess that's the best way tot put it.) BUT, back to the TV -- after talking about it he was open to not having a TV if I didn't want one. And, as it turns out, I think he prefers not having one now, too. He doesn't miss it, and he loves all the quality time that we get together without it (not that you can't have it WITH a TV -- I'm not arguing that -- just that this has worked well for us). I could say other things -- the way that he embraced the more cultural aspects of how I'd been raised, though they were foreign to him at the time: classical music and art, etc. He had never really listened much to classical music or had any exposure to it, but he still listened (and loved) to Bach's St. Matthew Passion (which, in addition to being a 3-hour, fantastic classical work, is also in German, so you have to follow a translation to the text if you want to understand what it says unless you speak German -- which we don't). I loved that! This has only richened as well...we both love this stuff and love talking about art (ie. we pull out our big art textbook and we're both sitting right next to each other, totally enthralled, talking about different artists and artwork and the time that it came from, the ideas from the culture, etc. -- it's awesome!) or anything else that's cultural. It's so much fun.


• And one more gush: He has a HUGE spirit. I love basking in it. He loves life, and it is a joy to be with someone like that.

So, I'm really glad my friend came over. I've missed our chats and I love the times we get to have together.

But I'm really glad my friend came over because it led to this lovely recounting, for me, of why my husband is so cool and why I love him so much, the things I really value about our relationship. This is good to do because sometimes I forget all of these things when things are rough and I find myself forgetting why my choice was such a good one when I made it, and how those things have only gotten better with time.

I'm excited to see how much better it can get.

Warm Feet

Every night, when I climb into bed, I snuggle up and spoon with Scott. Then, I find his feet. I press the tops of my cold feet against the bottoms of his warm feet, one foot of his for each foot of mine. It makes me feel secure and warm.

It's a nice way to fall asleep.

For Scott (Happy Love Day)

XOXOXOXOXOXOXOXOXOXOXOXO

i carry your heart with me (i carry it in
my heart) i am never without it (anywhere
i go you go, my dear; and whatever is done
by only me is your doing, my darling)
i fear
no fate (for you are my fate, my sweet) i want
no world (for beautiful you are my world, my true)
and it's you are whatever a moon has always meant
and whatever a sun will always sing is you

here is the deepest secret nobody knows
(here is the root of the root and the bud of the bud and the sky of the sky of a tree called life; which grows higher than the soul can hope or mind can hide)
and this is the wonder that's keeping the stars apart

i carry your heart (i carry it in my heart)

--e.e. cummings

Te amo con todo mi corazon. You are my dream and love and life. I carry your heart in mine.

Gopher, Orange, Exchange, Simulate & Prove -- My Very Own Love Story

Thank you, Georgia. This was fun.

Gopher. It all started because I delivered the message, directly after the sacrament, in church. Essentially this: "I like you. Do you like me?" (Non-essentially it contained a lot more words in and around and between, because, like I could say THAT, much less practically anything else, in just seven words??!!) But really, long before that, I was trying to wire a cable while sending messages---and watching for signs of reception on the other end. It was a little gutsy---being that I was 17, still in high school, and he was 24. Here were some of my messaging techniques, my little love letter feelers that I hoped would land in his mailbox:

*LOCATION: happening to be in just the right place at just that right time
*INVITES ("If you ever want to go running with me, you're more than welcome." Or biking. Or hiking. I also asked him if he wanted to read Tuesdays with Morrie with me, to which he answered yes. We spent nights reading that together.)
*GIFTS (These were essentially so hopefully he'd figure it out that I thought about him when we weren't together, and that I was interested. Hello! My favorite was when I left him some sprigs of forsythia in his bedroom to cheer him when he walked in. One time I left him a plant with a scripture marker/pen tucked in under the green shoots.)
*CONVERSATION (This has always been one of my favorite things, and I'd take the opportunity to strike up conversation that would end up lasting for hours. We talked about everything, and as I'm trying to think of anything specific right now, I remember (for some reason) a conversation that we had
on women/motherhood vs. the priesthood and really liking what he had to say about it.
*Etc. (You know, the usual things.)

It's kind of embarrassing, but I just remember thinking that if he got to know me, I knew he'd like me. Guess I was feeling confident. I just kept hoping that maybe this signaling would work.

In the end, let me just tell you, he got IT.
O is for Orange.
After he got the message (and sent one of his own back), we worked on harvesting this something orange---something:

--sweet like our picnic while listening to the bell concert, dancing to a favorite song in the canyon, a strawberry banana concrete at Nielsen's Frozen Custard, twirling on the temple lawn and in the middle of 5th West, and sitting on the edge of Lake Powell in the moonlight talking

--fresh like the brisk night hikes we took up Rock Canyon, the flowers he left in my room, biking in mud on Squaw Peak, cold water fights with the hose, and never getting enough (the way something just gets better and better and never gets old)

--juicy like the fruity popsicles we loved, like the HUGE hamburgers that Scott would concoct with all sorts of spices and tons of flavor and grill, sweet love notes, nice kisses and hugs

--warm like the way he held me one night at 106th South in Sandy when I was having a particularly hard reckoning with the fact my parents were splitting, the simplicity and utter cuteness of the gift of a children's book that he knew that I love, a gray Vans sweatshirt, and the wonderful times spent laughing

--and delicious like the peace of time together that brings a sense of security, moments of testimony, and that lovely feeling of knowing that you are to someone else what no one else is, that you are the essence of their dreams

There were many night drives up the canyon or elsewhere where we peeled oranges and enjoyed them slice by slice. To this day, I cannot see an orange and not think of him. All the while, we were in the middle of this color, that hinging between day and night, when the sun is brilliantly winking his eye across the sky. We were at dusk, approaching the close of a blazing summer.

Exchange.

He left in the fall for a 2 year season of back and forth conversation while he served a mission for the church. It was a time of growth and change for both of us, but I still get sentimental when I think about the anxiousness of waiting for those letters in the mailbox (virtual or otherwise). To this day, I still love to look at our four binders of letters and pick up snippets of what life was like and what was going on. I think writing provides a unique way for you to get to know someone---and to get to know yourself. In truth, I think it left things engraved on our hearts---I know it did on mine.

Simulate. In time, or all along, it came to resemble truth, a resonation between us that I couldn't ignore and couldn't let go of. It was like an echo of what I'd imagined to be real, and it came bouncing back to me again and again. I am one of those people that has an extremely hard time with decisions, and this one was HUGE. I think I knew in my heart what I felt, but I still needed to prove it to myself by running all of the above through my head. It's true that sometimes the farthest distance you ever have to travel is the distance between your head and your heart. The rest is history. We got married, but we're still building, still seeking those blueprints for resonance between us.


To Jessica & Casee (and anyone else who wants to play), here are your words: green, infrastructure, grasp, delve, and motherlode. Do with them what you like---it doesn't have to be a story.