Thursday, December 23, 2010

Missed you

My
rock climbing partner
confidante
racquetball buddy
skiing mentor
other half
roommate
monk-watching companion
fellow adventurer
personal back massager
best friend

I've missed you

Tuesday, December 14, 2010

Memories of you

Recently the cool thing to do has been to post something on your blog about each of your followers. Since I'm graduating this week and leaving Logan, I've decided to post a memory for each of you - either my first memory of you, or one of my favorite memories of you.
  • Remember how we made a bet that if I wasn't married by the time I was 21 you owed me 99 red balloons? I do . . . . you still owe me . . .
  • One time a few years ago my roommates and I were sitting in our kitchen having a deep and intimate discussion of which boys we liked and recounting our romantic pasts and suddenly you were standing in our living room and we realized that you'd been sitting in there the whole time, playing the piano. And we all just stared open mouthed at you, and I don't think I've ever blushed so hard in my life. We laughed pretty hard as soon as you left. But I think you were oblivious to the whole thing, ha ha.
  • Remember how I was going through a difficult time, but pretending to everyone that I totally wasn't, and you saw right through me and somehow got me to open up and spill everything to you? That actually helped me more than you will ever know. You have a real gift and I hope that you know that.
  • Remember how last year we would have heart-to-hearts at the kitchen table every day, and you would tell me all about your latest boy drama? I loved it. I loved hearing every little detail and I feel like that was when our friendship really cemented. I'm glad we've been able to bond over our boy dramas.
  • I remember the first time I met you. You'd just been through a breakup and the whole night I kept watching you to see if you would show it somehow, but you never did. I was really impressed by your ability to hide your thoughts from everyone so easily. I think that you're a really deep and thoughtful person, but a lot of people don't realize it because you're so good at hiding it. I was impressed.
  • I don't have one favorite memory of you - I have lots of little ones, mostly of us being nonsocial together, ha ha. I'm really glad that we could be antisocial together - it was because of that that I think I opened up to you more than I did with anyone else. What I love most about you is that you're unafraid to be completely yourself and that you don't give in to anyone else.
  • Remember that time we ran a mile every hour for 24 hours? Oh man, that was utterly miserable, let's never do it again, no matter what anyone says. However, I have to admit that that experience permanently changed my perception of you. I was thoroughly impressed by your determination, I didn't realize you were so hard core. I think our friendship grew a ton from that bonding experience, and from that day (that exceedingly LONG day) on I have considered you one of my closest friends. You genuinely are an amazing friend and I have thoroughly enjoyed getting to know you.
  • Remember how we spent a glorious two weeks watching our favorite tv show together every day? Ah, those were the days. We bonded together over gory surgical scenes and other people's dramas. I seriously looked forward to our GA time together more than anything else, I loved having this little activity that was just ours.
  • I remember the first time I met you - I honestly thought you were one of THE coolest people I'd ever met. You were so straightforward and genuinely unique and I really wanted to get to know you. I'm sorry I didn't get more of a chance to, but I am glad that I got to know you at least a little. You honestly make me smile every time I see you.
  • Remember that time we put a cute little rat in the boys' apartment? We lovingly cared for little Harry for days, letting him run around the floor, trying to get him to like us so we could hold him, cleaning out his nastier-than-all-get-out cage every freakin day cuz he smelled so badly. Ah, that was so fun - I was thoroughly impressed by your nonphobia of rats and I'm so glad that you were cool enough to carry out such an epic prank with me. PS I still miss that cute little guy.

Friday, December 10, 2010

Broken

"You're lucky," said the doctor. "It was a good, clean break."

"Sometimes part of the bone tries to hold on and then you get fracturing or splintering instead. When this happens it's a lot messier because the bone has to heal back around the part of the bone that won't let go, and because of that the bone doesn't always grow back straight.

Yours was a good, clean break through, so the bone split neatly into two separate pieces. This is good because it means that I can reset the bone from scratch and it has a greater likelihood of being able to grow back straight. Given the nature of the break, I'd guess it'll take about 6 weeks to heal. Take it easy during this time, but after that we'll take the cast off and you should be totally healed. No one will ever even be able to tell. It was a good, clean break, you're lucky."


Yes. I thought. I am lucky. It could have been a lot worse. But it's still broken. And it doesn't know how to heal itself, it's never been broken before. What if it doesn't grow back straight? What if it grows back crooked and the rest of my life I have to bear this visible scar of the break?

I know that broken bones are not uncommon, and that bones are really resilient. People break them all the time and most of the time they grow back straight again without any problems. It takes time, but eventually you can't even tell that it was ever broken.

I know all this. I know I should be fine. But this was no ordinary bone. And the prescribed healing time is over, but I'm not sure I'm ready to take the cast off . . .

Sunday, December 5, 2010

Journeying through Fog


Today I made an epic journey from Logan to Salt Lake and back through some pretty intense fog. As I was driving through the swirling vortexes of mist, I often couldn't see more than 10 feet ahead of me, and on both sides of the road was just a blank white expanse. There could literally have been an elephant standing five feet from the road and I would never have known. I realized how easy it would have been to become lost in the fog, since I had no way of knowing where I was at and I simply had to trust that as long as I followed the road I would safely make it to my destination. Since I couldn't see ahead of me into the gloom and had to rely only on the little white lines guiding my path, I was often surprised when the road would suddenly curve and twist in a different direction than I was expecting. I had no clue which way the road would curve next, or when the next bend would come, but I had faith that if I just kept following those cute little dashed lines then eventually I would make it to my destination.

Just as I was driving through the thickest fog in the middle of the canyon, it suddenly vanished completely and I could see for miles in all directions. I looked back into the wet mist from which I'd come and saw only clouds of white obscuring everything from view. As I once again looked ahead to the road that I could now see so clearly, I realized with amazement that the sun was shining and the sky was a beautiful blue. It had been impossible to tell this while everything was shrouded in fog, and I'd assumed that the sky was gray and that it might start snowing at any minute. But now all the world was clear and bright again, I could tell exactly where I was at on my journey, and I was confident of my destination once again.

And then I had an epic realization and I decided that life is like one giant journey. At times our way seems confusing and unclear, and it takes sudden turns that we're not expecting. But then there are the moments of clarity, when everything once again becomes lucid and the destination is practically in sight. The sun starts shining again and warms you to your very core. Of course, the sun was always there, shining brightly, but you just couldn't see it because the fog was obscuring it from view. These brief moments of clarity when you can see your path before you give you strength so that when you have to dip down through the next fog-filled valley you have the confidence to continue faithfully following the road until you reach the next peak and emerge again into the sunshine.

Right now I'm traveling through a foggy part of my journey. My life keeps taking unexpected turns and literally anything could be ahead, just barely out of sight in the fog. I have no idea what's in store or where my life will go next, but I am confident that eventually I will reach my destination so I will happily move forward into the fog until I can reach my next sun-filled peak.