It was pouring rain outside, and I had just ended a very long and very unhealthy relationship. Six years of being strung along, placed on the shelf, and I had finally mustered up the courage to walk away. I was shaking after it happened, because it was such an emotional milestone for me, something that took months of mustering up the courage and resolve to do, something that required me to step out of myself and realize a few harsh realities, something that ended in only a few minutes and left me feeling powerful and broken and brave and solemn all at the same time.
It was time for my intramural soccer game. I took everything boiling up inside me out on that ball, and I felt so free. People actually commented on my playing-- because let's be honest, I was never gifted in the sport of soccer. But that night was different. That night I had guts and guster.
I was invigorated, free. I felt strong and sexy and as soon as the game was over I sprinted out to my car, the key getting kind of stuck in the door as I tried to unlock it.
I jumped inside and tried to start my car. Nothing happened. The key was stuck. I tried everything, pumping breaks, jiggling the steering wheel, using my wrist to get the keys to turn, but they simply wouldn't. I called my best guy friend-- my dad--tried everything he suggested... still nothing. I enlisted the help of two young strangers, and they tried for a solid ten minutes before telling me, maybe the key is just chipped, maybe we should drive you home to get your spare. So that's what we did. I left my soccer bag on the seat, locked the car, and went to follow these gents to their car. As I stepped out and back, I realized that an identical Honda was parked right next to my car.
Wait-- no, identical Honda?
Try my Honda.
Seriously Kait?
Oh well. It was raining and I was in a hurry, didn't even think to check "my own" license plate.
Crisis averted!
Except for one thing-- now my soccer bag was in some random guy's car.
Explain that one to him?
I drove my own car home to grab some homework and the guys watched my bag (with wallet inside) while I was gone. When I got back, the car was gone, and they were waiting there to give me my stuff. They said the driver of the Honda was pretty annoyed that some random chick's bag was in his car.
The end.
Here's the thing. There are people constantly telling me that life doesn't add up, it never turns out the way you expect. You imagine it to be one way, and then it turns out to be completely different. It doesn't measure up to your expectations.
This used to really trouble me. Especially when people started telling me that marriage was going to be hard, and that you spend all this time dreaming up how great it'll be and then one morning wake up and feel at a loss. But you know what? I don't believe them. Call me young and stupid, but I believe in dreaming anyway. I know my life isn't going to be all rainbow and butterflies. But it sure as hell is going to be beautiful anyway.
I believe in seizing the day, because today is all you have. And I believe in believing the best days are yet to come. I believe in the magic. It's just a name for something we don't really understand.
And really when it comes right down to it, maybe my life won't be magical. Maybe everything I could possibly imagine could go wrong, will go wrong. And I may end up having a really rough go of things. Maybe I'll be widowed at 32. Maybe I'll get cancer. But it seems to me, that all the losses in this life will turn into gains eventually... I believe in Karma and I believe in good chi... I believe that the things in store are far greater than any fabrication that any human mind can even attempt to generate.
There is a reason we can't see the future. The only thing we can do is have faith in ourselves and our future, and to look up, and realize that the future is as bright as our faith.
The best days are yet to come. So if you don't mind, I'm just going to keep on dreaming. I'm going to keep on planning. And I am going to set it all up, and when God decides that He's going to turn my life upside down and send me careening on a different path, well, I'm gonna hit the ground running in that direction, and simply trust in it all. And it's going to be beautiful.
This used to really trouble me. Especially when people started telling me that marriage was going to be hard, and that you spend all this time dreaming up how great it'll be and then one morning wake up and feel at a loss. But you know what? I don't believe them. Call me young and stupid, but I believe in dreaming anyway. I know my life isn't going to be all rainbow and butterflies. But it sure as hell is going to be beautiful anyway.
I believe in seizing the day, because today is all you have. And I believe in believing the best days are yet to come. I believe in the magic. It's just a name for something we don't really understand.
And really when it comes right down to it, maybe my life won't be magical. Maybe everything I could possibly imagine could go wrong, will go wrong. And I may end up having a really rough go of things. Maybe I'll be widowed at 32. Maybe I'll get cancer. But it seems to me, that all the losses in this life will turn into gains eventually... I believe in Karma and I believe in good chi... I believe that the things in store are far greater than any fabrication that any human mind can even attempt to generate.
There is a reason we can't see the future. The only thing we can do is have faith in ourselves and our future, and to look up, and realize that the future is as bright as our faith.
The best days are yet to come. So if you don't mind, I'm just going to keep on dreaming. I'm going to keep on planning. And I am going to set it all up, and when God decides that He's going to turn my life upside down and send me careening on a different path, well, I'm gonna hit the ground running in that direction, and simply trust in it all. And it's going to be beautiful.
So I gave my number to a married man this week.
Let's talk about it.
I am in charge of utilities in my apartment, meaning, I have to go to the bank at least once a month and deposit three checks into my account. On these such occasions, over the past 5 months or so, I often struck up a conversation with one of the tellers there. I thought he was cute, but didn't act on anything. And by usually struck up a conversation, I mean this only happened like, three times. (I did do the finger-check, you guys! There was NO RING.)
Well the other day, I went inside for the first time in a while, and struck up maybe my fourth conversation with this said teller. He commented on the fact that I hadn't been in for a while, and that I usually go through the drive through nowadays. Now he had done it-- he noticed that sort of thing! It was time. So, I did what any sensible girl would do, and I decided to, you know, give him my number. I marched out of that credit union, got in my car, and began writing. I didn't even know his name. I got out a little piece of notebook paper and scribbled some short thing about how this might be unprofessional but that I didn't care-- here-- folded it up-- and addressed it. "Teller #0017482" or whatever his number was (it was on the sheet that he had just printed out after depositing my checks. I know, I'm a genius, right? uhh.).
So I thought it was pretty romantic. I drove up to the window, stashed the note inside, and sent it on up the tube, driving away without even looking at the person who ended up opening it. I knew it would end up where it needed to.
So about week goes by. At this point, I assumed he had a girlfriend or simply wasn't interested, and had forgotten the thing. The dating scene is all about putting yourself out there, and when it doesn't work, who cares, right? You move on. I was not very crushed.
Well then I get this text.
"Hey, is this kait?"
"I just wanted to let you know that I was totally flattered to receive your note..."
[insert fluff]
"..but I didn't call back because I just got married about a month ago. I didn't want you to feel totally rejected or anything like that, because you are sweet. So hopefully you're not embarassed..."
hahaha... oh. my. gosh.
In my defense, I had done the ring check in the past. I only saw him briefly this time, and wasn't thinking to check again. The thought never crossed my mind!
So that's the story.
And now I have to go back to that bank. If it wasn't pretty hilarious, it might just be the most awkward situation in my world. But you know. At least it makes a good story (I feel that a solid 75% of my life experiences end up with me telling myself those last seven words, just to make myself feel better).
Ladies and gentleman, do the ring check more than once. Things can change fast in this here dating scene.
And that's all I really have to say.
Let's talk about it.
I am in charge of utilities in my apartment, meaning, I have to go to the bank at least once a month and deposit three checks into my account. On these such occasions, over the past 5 months or so, I often struck up a conversation with one of the tellers there. I thought he was cute, but didn't act on anything. And by usually struck up a conversation, I mean this only happened like, three times. (I did do the finger-check, you guys! There was NO RING.)
Well the other day, I went inside for the first time in a while, and struck up maybe my fourth conversation with this said teller. He commented on the fact that I hadn't been in for a while, and that I usually go through the drive through nowadays. Now he had done it-- he noticed that sort of thing! It was time. So, I did what any sensible girl would do, and I decided to, you know, give him my number. I marched out of that credit union, got in my car, and began writing. I didn't even know his name. I got out a little piece of notebook paper and scribbled some short thing about how this might be unprofessional but that I didn't care-- here-- folded it up-- and addressed it. "Teller #0017482" or whatever his number was (it was on the sheet that he had just printed out after depositing my checks. I know, I'm a genius, right? uhh.).
So I thought it was pretty romantic. I drove up to the window, stashed the note inside, and sent it on up the tube, driving away without even looking at the person who ended up opening it. I knew it would end up where it needed to.
So about week goes by. At this point, I assumed he had a girlfriend or simply wasn't interested, and had forgotten the thing. The dating scene is all about putting yourself out there, and when it doesn't work, who cares, right? You move on. I was not very crushed.
Well then I get this text.
"Hey, is this kait?"
"I just wanted to let you know that I was totally flattered to receive your note..."
[insert fluff]
"..but I didn't call back because I just got married about a month ago. I didn't want you to feel totally rejected or anything like that, because you are sweet. So hopefully you're not embarassed..."
hahaha... oh. my. gosh.
In my defense, I had done the ring check in the past. I only saw him briefly this time, and wasn't thinking to check again. The thought never crossed my mind!
So that's the story.
And now I have to go back to that bank. If it wasn't pretty hilarious, it might just be the most awkward situation in my world. But you know. At least it makes a good story (I feel that a solid 75% of my life experiences end up with me telling myself those last seven words, just to make myself feel better).
Ladies and gentleman, do the ring check more than once. Things can change fast in this here dating scene.
And that's all I really have to say.
"True friends are always together in spirit. (Anne Shirley)"
-L.M. Montgomery
I guess it would be fair to mention here that I believe in kindred spirits. How could I not?
I love a lot of thing about our friendship, but here are some of the memories that stick out:
-Toughing it out in the woods of Oregon, and by "toughing it out," we went through an entire bottle of lighter fluid
-Ice Skating in a blizzard on Kreshatyk
-Our little hole-in-the-wall chinese runs
-Our late night talks. (sometimes she was just hit on the head with a ton of energy at 2 AM, rare, but hilarious).
-That one time we came within inches of hitting a deer, and laughed for a good solid 10 minutes afterward.
-The day we just layed out on the porch in the rain and stared up at the sky.
-Doner Kabob's in Ukraine. We were bottomless.
-Getting the worst seats on the plane to Stockholm, and laughing about it the entire way.
-Her face when she accidentally ordered "Chai" (tea) instead of what she really wanted in Kyiv
-When we decided we really needed to strip ourselves from pride and watch the last "Twilight" movie, simply because we were camping in the woods where it was filmed
-When she made me sing Taylor Swift's "22" on my 22nd birthday
-When we tried to make Gourmet french toast, and instead we ended up with soggy bread
-Her love for peanut butter (she bought me a brand new jar when she had only eaten a few spoonfuls of it)
-The way we both tried so hard to be healthy and then would just forget it and go to Cold Stone
-Singing as loud as we could to the radio in the car
-The fact that we never fight (except for a tiny bout of craziness that happened just before her wedding, but we both realized we were stressed out of our minds, and came back to ourselves, and all was good.)
Ukraine was difficult, but I'd do it all again in a heartbeat if it meant keeping her in my life!
She claims that I was the one who saved her, but I am convinced it's the other way around.
She's my person, and as much as I miss her, I keep reminding myself how lucky I was to get to spend the past 7 months just a bunk-bed-away from her.
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what i’m just now coming to realize is that the difference between the terror and the thrill–that razor-edge that separates the two, is faith.
i remember sending up a particularly vociferous prayer towards the start of the year, which wasn’t so much a prayer as a demand, what do you want from me? what do you want from me? six words i said again and again. six words i angrily flung upward. and the answer came back immediate and clear: more faith.
more faith.
which at the time i thought meant more patience, and patience has never been my virtue.
but now, these many months later, i don’t think it is patience. it’s not about more patience or less patience. it’s about a seed of self-belief. and how that seed is actually a divine thing. it’s about embracing the bits that don’t make any sense. trusting that the story is in fact made by the departures and aberrations. it’s about wonder and curiosity. about moving forward and upward even if the movement is a sort of graceless thrashing about. it’s about clawing and clamoring and dirt beneath the fingernails. it’s about saying i don’t know. and i don’t know. and i don’t know, again. because one day i will. and if one believes that in the end it’ll all work out–even and most especially in the face of overwhelming doubt–than those moments of discomfort and unease and fear are made sweet and holy and wholly lovely by their impermanence.
//Meg Fee//
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