On rare occasions, I burst into tears and cry uncontrollably for several minutes.
At times, this is because there’s an ASPCA commercial with abused puppies and kitties. At other times, it’s because I find myself so overwhelmed with the beauty of the drive along H3 that it’s impossible for me to make it through the tunnel dry-eyed.
And then, there are times like five minutes ago.
I went searching for a quote to post to Facebook. You know – one of those fun little ditties about how I miss my husband, but life is great, and so am I? I turned to an old favorite, InspirationPeak.com, and this is what appears on the homepage:
“Dear Lord, be good to me
the sea is so wide
and my boat is so small.”
-Irish Fisherman’s Prayer
Yeah. It’s like a green light that you’ve been waiting for that suddenly comes along and you just have to gun it out of the gate – except this is with tears, and they don’t exactly zoom, but they do fall.
This past year has brought so much change. So much change that all I want to do is sit here, not move, and make time slow down. Except, that would mean it would take longer for Keith to get home, and no matter how stressful the days can be, I’d endure each and every one if it brings me closer to him.
In this last year, we’ve: renovated two bathrooms, done other major renovations to our kitchen and outdoor space, packed up and moved our entire lives thousands of miles away, and visited Michigan, Minnesota, Canada, Pennsylvania, downstate New York, St. Thomas, St. John, the BVI, Germany, Denmark and Sweden.
I’ve left my job for consulting, and Keith’s has gotten a whole heck of a lot more complicated. We’ve said more good-byes than I ever wish to again, and set off on a whole new adventure where we’ve made new life-long friends. I’ve started school to achieve my CPA and Keith is gone about 1/2 to 2/3 of the time. Oh, and yeah, Jack got cancer.
In the midst of all of this, we received some difficult news that pregnancy is not possible for us, and that’s something that will change your life forever.
So, let’s see – on the Holmes and Rahe Stress Scale, we score a 493. Yeah.
But, Keith and I are resilient, and I am quite aware of that, given the fact that I am still alive and kicking at this very moment. But it doesn’t mean that every day is easy, or that tomorrow will be easier than today. It actually doesn’t mean much other than it’s sink or swim.
The crying still comes often. Today, I randomly fell into watching “New Year’s Eve” – you know, that stupid little movie about a whole bunch of people and their inter-relating lives on New Year’s Eve in New York City? All those famous people are in it, like Bon Jovi…
Well, the reason that movie brought me to tears is this: There’s no Christmas like a New York Christmas. There’s no shopping like Macy’s in December, or ice-skating like Rockefeller Center. There’s no show like the Rockettes, and no one can prepare you for the fun of FAO Schwartz. But, the better part is the time spent in the smaller shops – at the Comedy Cellar just a few feet from Dave Attell. Eating cookies from Levain and perusing the Frick on free Sundays. There’s nothing like the Hudson Valley when it snows (and I don’t mean the crappy road conditions). There’s just something magical that happens with so few neon lights and so many beautiful views. Nothing like the food of High Falls, or my mom’s holiday dinner table. And in Toga, New Year’s is so special. Not that New York doesn’t top it (and believe me, New York City New Years is rockin’), but there’s something simple in First Night Saratoga that just makes me feel good about what’s to come. Being warm, wrapped up in puppies with hot chocolate, watching the lights on the tree flicker and the snow fall outside. Damn, I miss that! I want that! So yes, this movie made me ache for that. And then, like cruel jokesters, they threw in a scene with Halle Berry talking to her husband, deployed in Iraq. Not the same as Keith being underway, but it might as well have been. Great oceans started pouring from my eye sockets.
But, we just got here to Hawaii, and I have to give it a chance. Nothing’s going to live up to 31 years of pure holiday bliss, but even now, as I type and cry and wish that time and space would listen to my every command, I can’t help but watch my puppies sleep – all curled up in a ball, snug and dreaming away of chasing cats across the field… And then I think, my boat might be small, but it’s filled with wonderful things. And that makes this great ocean crossing bearable and worthwhile.



























