"Love"

My very intuitive and lovely friend Erin Callahan sent me this song by Jana Kramer yesterday titled simply "Love." She knows me so well... it has become my anthem. The lyrics begin with "I still believe in fairy tales... I still believe in shooting stars... and butterflies you get right before you kiss for the very first time." I could have written them... I believe in them as much as I believe the sun rises in the east and that coffee is a gift from the Gods.

And I realized over the weekend I still believe in him, the one about whom I wrote last week. I was hurt and the fallout from what I wrote was quite ugly. I feel pretty rotten about the things said. We came to the end of something. But I don't hate him. I don't wish him pain or loneliness. I still wish him a lot of joy. And wish that he always feels love. I hope there may be a day when we can laugh about "Leon and Margaret" and even, maybe, play Scrabble again. I hope to get periodic pictures of his son as he enters Middle School then High School. When Max got his Driver's License Saturday, I emailed him right away. I rubbed the spot on my tattoo that represents him over and over... not to hide it but as I remembered all the things about him that made me want him represented not just to me but on me.

And this afternoon I was talking to someone about reading and my love of words... new words, the way they play off one another, that I am drawn to songs because of their lyrics more than the actual music. I tried to explain that words are tangible in my mind, they aren't just two dimensional shapes on a page but are colorful and have texture. Words hold power and magic and words hold... love. And some of the words I feel and see and taste about him are: hard-working, smart, stubborn, father, reliable, witty, beautiful, strong, icing, silly, dubious. Those aren't all he is - I don't think any of us can be just a few words - but he is those things. Thank you Erin, and Jana Kramer, for reminding me of them!

With Erin, Summer 2013, National Harbor

TG would like a one way ticket to oblivion, please!

Technology must be the bane of the unfaithful's existence. With text messages and emails and instant messages and social media, being sneaky and having secrets is far more dangerous than it used to be.

Last night I was playing around on my phone, waiting for someone, and Google Play suggested I look at applications my friends enjoy. Alrighty then, I am game for, well, games - educate me Google! Except that the first recommendations were for dating sites that the man with whom I have been in love for many years rated 4 stars and 5 stars respectively. I tried to minimize the sucker punched feeling by rationalizing these ratings were given in December of 2012 and January of 2013 but quickly realized we were more "on" than "off" then. For his birthday that December I gave him a ring and explained that even when things weren't so good we were like the ring, we went in a circle and the good stuff was as bright as the diamonds that sparkled on the front of the ring.

What frustrates me most about this is that there is no way to have this conversation. I will be accused of making assumptions, making a mountain out of a mole hill, making us more important than we actually are. There is no way to eradicate the sickening feeling that I am not, was not, and won't ever be "enough" for this man. And right now it feels like there is no way to leave him behind. No way to forget his slow smile or beautiful hands or channel the breathtaking, all encompassing love I have for him into a healthy distance.

Maybe we aren't supposed to forget our true loves? Maybe you can't have both: a true, deep, mad love that is also fulfilling and healthy? Or maybe you have to earn that love. Or, most likely, I have no idea. What I do know is that the feeling of missing this man isn't as horrible as the feeling of knowing I am not who he wants. And I know I hope this time I can be as brave as he has tried to teach me to be so that I can just be, just me - happily!

The power of magic

My FaceBook status this morning reminds people to look for and believe in the joy and magic all around us. Which, to many, may seem a little fantastical and perhaps not based in reality. But I beg to differ.

Depending on how you define magic, it is every where. I don't mean spells and wands and turning toads into princes. What I mean is the magic of hope. And I mean the magic of love. And I mean the breath taking, heart stopping sensation that holding a new baby causes. Magic can be that weightless sensation you have when you start to fall in love and the way you feel the first time you kiss someone. But it is also the familiar scent of the man you love and the safety and warmth being in his arms brings. It isn't just a new baby but it is watching your six year old ride away without training wheels for the first time or your high school graduate cross the stage.

The only problem with this joy, this magic, is that it hides very well. It hides behind the horror of being the parent of a child, learning at school, who is suddenly gone, the victim of out of control gun violence. It is hidden in the charred remains of a plane, smoldering in Eastern Ukraine, that had been full of mothers and fathers and 100 children headed to vacations and conferences and visiting loved ones. A plane that was shot down because of petty arguments started by tyrannical people whose need for control and power trumps the basic right of just living. This magic hides in the cracks of broken hearts and is drowned out by the noise of life support machines.

But it isn't hiding from us, it isn't coyly flirting, but instead it is waiting patiently to be discovered. We have to be still, and quiet, we have to trust someone. And if we are brave enough to do that, if our defeated souls can hear the whispered voice of hope encouraging us to "try one more time" we will learn to believe in magic. And we will find joy.

But... it is 2014? TG is dumbfounded

Yes, I wear "rose colored" glasses. Yes, I tend to believe the best about a situation until the opposite is beaten into me with a bat. Yes, I am trusting and optimistic. No, I am not nearly as aware as I should be about the bias, bigotry and cruelty that non whites continue to face.

Diversity and inclusion are topics that always foster passionate conversation. Conversations regarding them happen everywhere by just about everyone. Even before children understand the concept as a whole, they are aware that there are differences and that those differences somehow matter.

I feel like I have seen and heard a lot about race in just the last week. I read an article about the Student Body President at the Lawrenceville School, Maya Peterson, who was forced to step down. She posted arguably offensive pictures mocking the typical male students at her school. You can argue that as President of the Student Body she shouldn't have done or said anything that may have alienated any members of the student body. Ms. Peterson's point that creating an environment of inclusion for the 21% of Asian students and 16% of black/Hispanic students was a priority seems pretty inclusive and important to me. 

But it isn't only the one event at the Lawrenceville School. On the news this morning I caught the tail end of a report regarding the shooting of a Mexican youth near the US/Mexico border. The young man was in Mexico and was shot multiple times and killed. Later that day I did an online search to find more information about the incident and was shocked to discover that it wasn't a one time event, Sergio Hernandez and Jose Antonio Elena Rodriguez are just two of the more recent victims. While some of those shot are trying to sneak into the border illegally, excessive force is often used. And there are tens of thousands (some estimates say 60,000 to 80,000 annually) who are fleeing their homes to a safer place. I know this is not a solution, that we as a country cannot absorb everyone who struggles, but I wonder if the reaction would be the same if these were white Canadian children?

Incidents in my personal life that I viewed as isolated are becoming too numerous to not be symptomatic of a larger problem. A friends 12 year old son, who happens to be black, was helping me at the store and is chastised for having my debit card; the same card that my white son uses all the time without anyone blinking an eye. Wandering a CVS with a black coworker; she is followed and asked numerous times by the same person if she needs help. The same person has seen me throughout the store and hasn't asked me once. Learning Spanish vocabulary from a friend and being shocked when she is told "You are in America, speak English!" She is as American as I am, and speaks English, Spanish and German eloquently and beautifully.

How did I not know that this still happened? That judgments are made in a heartbeat based on the texture of someone's hair, the color of their skin, or the lilt in their voice? I feel guilty that a fluke allowed me to be white - yes ALLOWED - and that the benefits I reap from that have nothing to do with my talents, intelligence, or hard work. And I wonder what I can do that would help begin to level the playing field. If you know, please let me know.