I have always had an active dream life. As a child, I remember having vivid and recurring dreams. I have dreamt entire novels that I might or might not have a role in. I have dreamt full length films like I was sitting in a theater just watching a movie on a screen. I have dreamt jokes so funny that I have woken myself up laughing. I have experienced lucid dreams where I am able to direct my actions or the actions of others. I have also had dreams so unspeakably upsetting that I will wake myself up to escape them. But, by far the most curious dream experiences I have had are dreaming of those who have passed from this life. The first “visitation” dream of someone who had passed was with my neighbor from childhood. His daughter was my best friend and we spent many of our young hours in their home and at his business. He was a diabetic and in her childhood language she referred to him having “sugar bean-ditis”. Anyway, Waylon, was a double above-the-knee amputee and he had mobility issues while his wife cared for him full-time the last few years. When the eventual time came, my now-adult friend called me and asked me to go be with her Mom and Dad at our local hospital until she and her sister could come in from the Metroplex. I did. It is one of only 2 times in my life I have stayed up all night. I remember singing to him softly and just standing at his bedside that night. I’m fairly certain there were only very short periods when his wife wasn’t present but, somehow, it’s that alone time that my memory recalls. My friend and her sister arrived at the hospital at 5am and I was relieved of my duties in time to get ready for work the next day – that day, as it was. It was his time to be released from his human form and he passed on soon after. We had the funeral and my dear friend asked me to do a “reading” at Waylon’s service, which is common in the Catholic faith. It was sometime after that when Waylon came to me in a dream. I remember he had a long black car – something like a limousine – and he drove me around the neighborhood so happy to be independent and able to navigate this fine vehicle. It’s just a flash of a memory but it *felt* significant upon waking and to this day, I recall it while thousands of other “regular” dreams have faded away.
Another dream visit involved my maternal grandmother. She was a lovely woman but, due to certain family issues, we weren’t close. After she passed, she came to me and took me on a tour of her most prized possessions. Everything was displayed in beautiful lit boxes like you would see in a museum with just a single thing showcased in each. It was a glimpse of her and her treasures and it gave me complete compassion for who she was and how we had somehow misunderstood her. That’s the common theme of my death dream visits. They bring me great compassion for the deceased. And, they bring me closer to a pure love for them. I do not know if it is some sort of brain trick that manifests as a dream for me and I really do not care if it is. The PEACE it leaves in it’s wake is worth it, even if my spirit is somehow creating it. My two most significant dream visits occurred with my sister and my dad. My sister was only 41 when she died after a 2 year battle with inflammatory breast cancer. She left behind a 17 year old daughter and an 11 year old son, a new husband, numerous friends, our parents and me. Her suffering was nothing short of awful. She fought death with every ounce of energy her body could muster. She had many unsettled issues and there was a lot of pain for those close to my sister. And she had pain. Terrific pain. Pain I would not wish on anybody. But, then she died and her pain ended and ours did not. We suffered for her suffering and all those unresolved feelings we still had to manage. About 6 weeks after she died, Kim came to me in the most vivid visit-dream I have ever had. She has appeared in dreams several times, but, usually just a wave or often a hug (right before waking) when I have been struggling. This BIG visit was during a nap. It was a long visit and nothing short of incredible. We were communicating without words – as in all of my “visits”. Just exchanging energic thoughts in complete clarity without the cumbersome-ness of language. I was able to ask questions about anything and everything and she answered them all. She showed me how the Universe worked. In her version, it was like every tiny thing, even the smallest flutter of a butterfly’s wing caused an almost imperceptible breeze that moved a single blade of grass that then eventually resulted in a wave of growing energy that created the weather, tidal flow and EVERYTHING on the planet. Every single action was pre-determined and HAD to happen in just that way to create the life we are intended to have. This extended out to every thought and choice that WE have as humans creating the “us” that makes our personalities, families, communities and societies. She portrayed it to me as a giant Universal “clock” wherein the smallest part made a “tic” and that built up to a larger cog, then to a wheel and finally, eventually to gears that all turned “behind the scenes” of what is our Reality. My sister’s explanation of my life, our lives and life on this planet gave me this sense of peace that everything, literally EVERY THING, that we experience and every emotion and all of it MUST be so in order for the Universe to function as it is intended. Not that there aren’t bad decisions and bad actions and even bad people, but that they are all NECESSARY for our soul’s journey. This peace, especially after her disease process and all the questions of why, why, why was healing. There wasn’t anything she or we or anyone could have done to have changed the outcome. It HAD to be. In this dream visit, she was in her most perfect human form – radiant of body, long-flowing curls and pure Sister-love but still and all completely HER. I remember waking with tears and taking a long time to process what she had shown me. I was unable to talk about it to anyone for a couple of weeks. When I was finally able to put a word frame around my experience, I shared it with my husband. It brought me as much emotion to attempt to tell him about it as it did when she shared it with me. Now, years later, I know she bestowed upon me an incredible gift of understanding. The peace that came with this knowledge has stayed with me to this day.

My Dad waited a bit for his visits. The first time he came to my dream world was about 6 months after his unexpected passing. We were on vacation with friends in New Orleans and in my dream he just stepped out into my view and gave me a wave to let me know he was OK. He wasn’t close, it seemed he was about a block away, but it was powerful. The next day as we left for the airport, I looked down and saw a dime. In the space of the trip to the airport and the journey home, I found 5 or 6 dimes. I understood that this was his way of expressing to me that he was present. I continue to find dimes now. He usually sends them when I’m on an adventure or a run (especially a 5k) and it brings me great joy to find those dimes. I have found them in foreign countries (that have other currencies!) and in places where plenty of people could have found them before I did. This past weekend, as my friend and I walked in the local park, a dime shined right in my path. I said “Hey, Dad!” out loud and she shared the beauty of the moment with me as we acknowledged him saying “hi”. I have a collection of these dimes and it always astounds me how it’s not pennies, quarters or nickels… just dimes. Anyway, Dad came to me in another “how the Universe works” dream. He expressed the afterlife to me as complete and encompassing love with no judgement. He showed me eternal wavelengths of colored light woven into a Universal tapestry. The lights had no beginning and no ending but at points where they intersected – the pattern created expressed our relationships with others. Some touched briefly and some were interwoven as far as I could see. It was just beautiful and perfect. I have had other encounters with Dad but none so significant as this.

My most recent dream visit was with Lyla. Lyla is the granddaughter of a dear friend. She was diagnosed with a rare genetic cancer at 18 months. She was in treatment for half of her short 3 years on this Earth. Lyla visited me in the early morning hours of Mother’s Day this year. She had come to play and give me the sweetest, most pure hugs I’ve ever had. She was radiant and full of joy and laughter. We were at her grandmother’s house and she told me her tummy didn’t hurt anymore. In her life, Lyla had large abdominal tumors that were terribly painful. I told her how sorry I was that she hadn’t been able to take her Make-a-Wish trip to Disney. She said “that’s OK. What I really enjoyed was time here with my family.” As we played we found a bunny in a mound and she said “We don’t touch it, just watch.” So we didn’t touch the bunny. We could smell bacon cooking in the house that her Daido (grandpa) was making. We played and she asked me if she could come another time for a play date. “Of course! I would love that!”, I responded. And, then I woke up. It was the first time I had met Lyla. I had been close with her grandmom for years but Lyla & I hadn’t connected until that dream. I wanted to tell her grandmother in person but, since it was Mother’s Day and I wanted to share it with her then, I texted her my account of the dream. Just last evening, now a month since that dream, I had the chance to visit with my friend for her birthday. She walked us out as we were leaving and told us about Lyla playing near the swingset. That often a bunny would come up and get quite close to her. If anyone else approached, the bunny would run, but, if it was just Lyla, she would stay. Lyla never touched it.

Today is Valentine’s Day. On this day, 30 years ago, we began working together. My husband, Daniel, is a chiropractor and I am the office manager. We do this thing, day in and day out, still. Before we ever did embark on the being-married/working together deal, we had many MANY friends tell us “Don’t do it! It’ll ruin your marriage.” Well, we didn’t listen and I’m very grateful we did not. I believe our working relationship is just a reflection of the rest of our marriage… most things rock along nice & easy and rarely it’s more of struggle. Fortunately, we have found a rhythm and it works for us. Usually.

I remember when we were in the early marriage days and hardly had any time together. We would go to the grocery store on weekends just to spend time together. Granted, shopping there was a treat. We lived in Las Colinas and that Tom Thumb had a pianist that often played during our shopping dates. I didn’t know much about food prep and better quality ingredients back then…but I’m sure even the Rice-a-Roni looked tastier with a nice concerto playing in the background! We would shop and then take our bulldog, Hoya, for a walk around the canals, maybe order a Mr. Jim’s pizza and the weekend would be gone. Other times we would play cards or have dinner dates with friends from my work or drive 3+ hours home on holidays to see his parents. I recall visiting my best work buddy at the time and saying “I spend more time with you than I do with my husband!” And it was true! I was working full-time and attending graduate classes in the evenings. He was in class from 8am-5pm so there wasn’t much crossover time in our schedules. And, we were poor. Not so poor we couldn’t live in a safe area and occasionally have a decent meal out, but I didn’t make very much and he was on school loans, so, not flush, for sure. But, looking back, it was a sweet and special time. I loved that he had chosen to be a chiropractor and was proud of him for wanting to be in a healing profession. I enjoyed my work in the fitness industry and we were both on track to graduate the same December. We were young with an unknown future and the whole world was wide open to us. As fate would have it, there was a chiropractor in a nearby town who was looking to open an office in our hometown. We met with him and agreed to return “home” to run his satellite office. He also advised us against working together. He had a lady lined up to be office manager and we agreed to his stipulations. Well, fast forward almost a year (and 2 of the most terrible days of my life as a substitute teacher) and the prospective office manager had to back out due to family responsibilities. I was available!! and interested!! and we started professional life together as a package deal.

It was a new office and sometimes the going was slow, especially in the early days. I remember reading lots of books in downtimes and waiting for the phone to ring. Daniel was finding his way and honing his skills. We were up to our eyeballs in school loan debt and I took an adjunct teaching position at the junior college to use my degree and supplement our income. It was a lean time but through it we learned to support each other and how to let our own lights shine. I love being with him on a day-to-day basis. When something happens, I can tell him. Once, many years ago, we lost a dear friend to a head-on collision. I got the call that morning and we were just working a regular busy day. I pulled Daniel aside between appointments and told him. “Honey, I have terrible news. Karl was killed this morning.” I was in shock but functioning. He was more stunned. It immobilized him and he just sat there. I finally said, as gently as I could, “Honey, you have people waiting…” But, it affected him differently and he had to go be available to his patients. All I had to do was not cry when they came out! We have very different roles at work. I am amazed at how tuned in he can be with those in his care. But, for important things and for even the mundane look-this-made-me-laugh things it is wonderful to get to share “life” with your spouse. I get to watch him teach his patients how to get better. I get to witness people who have had headaches or lingering pain (for sometimes years!) come out of an appointment and express their wonder and gratitude to not hurt. It’s a beautiful thing to get to see the person you love and admire most get to do their thing! He is very very good at what he does. One day in the past year, he was taking all kinds of time with a patient and I stepped in to let him know I was going into one of my appointments. He was sitting on top of the desk and the patient was in the chair with a hot pack on his back. The patient was in a lot of pain but couldn’t lie down to receive the therapy much less an adjustment. Daniel was just being with him. He couldn’t “DO” anything, so he was just there, holding space. It was such a great example of his care! He takes his time and gives each person what they need, every time. And therein lies the rub! Sometimes what a patient needs takes more time than what I have allowed on our schedule. You just never know when someone is going to say “Hey, Doc… can you do anything about my shoulder?” and this might be AFTER their adjustment and it COULD be something that has a lot to do with muscular imbalance and it MIGHT take a bit to evaluate and then recommend what is helpful or teach some stretching and/or exercises. You see, my understanding of how it goes with other healthcare providers is if you say “oh! and then I have this other issue…” that you would have the opportunity to make another appointment where this could be addressed. Well, homie don’t play that. You’re here, he’s going to do what he can to help now. So… we get behind. And, if you’ve met me, I am pretty time-conscious. Pretty is a mild descriptor. I’m fairly obsessed with time. I have a lot of time commitments and I value promptness. I also have been known to not really understand why someone might be late…. I mean, it’s a verbal contract, right? You have an appointment at 9:30, courtesy dictates you arrive at 9:25. No? Really? My excuse: It’s how I was raised! I have taken a lot of heat for my views on time! It seems that current thinking is to arrive not early at all. I will see someone drive up and sit in their car so they don’t walk in early. I even have patients apologize for coming in a few minutes before their appointment time! Woah! How things have changed! I have lightened up substantially on my time expectations and my life has relaxed in response to that. Old habits die hard, though… and I have to occasionally remind myself “This little mama could have had a diaper emergency that caused her to be late..” or that people are just humans doing the best they can to navigate each day. So, needless to say, Daniel & I differ in our regard to TIME but we absolutely agree on giving people what they need. It’s all part of the relationship dance. And, oh what a great thing to get to be supporting someone you love do something that you whole-heartedly believe in and do it well for a long time. The long, slow dance. ♥

This is a story about kindness. About humanness. Humaneness. It could have gone so differently, but, it went like this:
I had just boarded an airplane in Midland on my way to Las Vegas. It was a Friday morning and my little Momma was in Mesquite, Nevada. She was alone except for her chihuahua and my Dad had passed away completely unexpectedly overnight. She had been in the hotel room with him. He had not been feeling well that day. He was very low energy and not interested in anything. Dad was always interested in everything so this was very unusual. Anyway, they were driving from Montana headed toward Arizona to get Mom’s knee replaced. They were on a mission and Mesquite NV was about halfway. They stopped for the night and, we believe, Dad had a massive heart attack in the early hours of that Friday. I had spoken to Mom on the phone and my main priority was just to get to her. My husband drove me the hour and a half to the airport and I was a wreck. I was intermittently crying and spending the time I wasn’t trying to *NOT*. Resting Bit$h face ain’t got nuthin’ on “trying not to cry” face. Anyway, I took the first seat that was open so that I could get OFF that plane and get to my Mom as fast as humanly possible. I took an aisle seat next to a woman with a baby. It was a smaller plane with only 2 seats on each side so it was “just us”. I don’t think it was long after takeoff and I was attempting to hold it together and she looks at me and asks “Are you OK?” I said “No. I just lost my Dad and my Mom is alone and I’m trying to get to her.” She said “Oh. I’m sorry. Had he been ill?” No, he hadn’t. “I’m sorry”, she said. And, I cried a little. And, she just sat there with her baby and let me have my feelings. The baby was being really good and she was a beautiful child and I asked how old she was. The little one was 6 months old and was going to be fitted for a temporary skull shaping helmet. We talked about her daughter some, just easy get-to-know-you things and we would fall silent. Then, she would ask me a question like “How old was your Dad?” and I would answer and she would say, so kindly, “I’m sorry.” I learned that a lot of babies need to have their little heads shaped but that she would only be in her helmet for 6 weeks. This momma was grateful that her daughter would be out of her headgear before the hottest part of the summer. She was the third child to her family but the first to have this need. Dad worked in the oil business and she was a stay-at-home Mom. She asked, gently, “What did your Dad do?” and she gave me the opportunity to tell her how he was a chiropractor, who did what he loved. He took early retirement at the age of 45 so he could “pack all the fun in his life” that was possible. He and my Mom played tennis, strung rackets and were both USPTA pros who taught lessons. Tennis was their passion until just recently with the discovery of pickleball, which had moved into the forefront of fun for both of them. She asked me how long it had been since I had seen my Dad. I told her how I had been with my parents just 9 days before for a long weekend. It had been such a great visit. My oldest and dearest friend and childhood neighbor “my Thister” had gone with me to Montana and we had spent 4 days hanging out with Mom & Dad. Dad had taught us how to play pickleball and we had explored beautiful Montana and met their friends there. Mom & Dad were summering in their 5th wheel trailer and we had been able to stay in the neighboring home. It was one of the best and most fun visits we ever got to have. With every exchange, as it would end, this gentle Mom would say, in the most compassionate way, “I’m sorry”. She offered me the chance to think of things besides losing him, besides the trauma my Mom was going through and ever so gently guided my focus to happy memories. I have heard the term “holding space” previously. I kinda/sorta understood it, but with my seatmate I experienced it ever so compassionately, firsthand. I had gotten on that flight hoping to survive it, but, I came off it stronger and already starting to heal from this loss because of the kindness of the lady on the plane.

My little baby dog turned 5 this week. He is the cutest stray ever! (Says every rescue owner, I know!) We love his giant ears and soulful eyes. DL came to us 4 years ago on Labor Day weekend.

Our vet said he was right at a year old – so we gave him a Labor Day birthday and it moves a little each year, just like the Monday holiday. He followed Daniel home from his run on a Saturday. We gave him food and water but he was too scared to stay. He followed him home again the next day and just basically never left. He was covered in burrs and he was hungry but very cautious. It was mild weather for that 3-day weekend (especially for September in Texas!) and we were doing some work on remodeling the living room so we had the back door open to the yard. DL just hung out on a tarp under the scaffolding and slept, going in and out as he pleased. When he wasn’t catching up on rest (because being a stray is hard, y’all!) he would just sit silently and watch us. I bet we had him for a couple of months before he ever made a sound. He was very stoic like the Dalai Lama and he looked like a little llama. Hence, his name, The Doggy Llama. We call him DL. We were decidely dog-free for about a year when he showed up. The last couple of years of English bulldog ownership had gotten really sad and messy, not to mention how hard it was to find someone to for realz MOVE IN when we left town. Anyway, when DL showed up we agreed with each other to vet him, foster him and find him a good home. HA! Of course, we had him scanned for a microchip and plastered his mug all over Facebook, but it was clear he did not have an owner. We took him to the vet who had ushered us through our bulldog era and he said “You are going to learn about hybrid vigor!” Our previous pure-bred dogs had been expensive from the get-go and then along the way with allergy testing, shots, special food, ear and tail issues and the list goes on. We had to be careful to not let them get too hot because the bradycephalic breeds (ie pugs, bulldogs and Pekinese) don’t have the long nose to cool air properly. They were snorty and farty. All sorts of unique things that a Heinz 57 dog like DL is not. He’s great in 99 ways. And, then there is his one issue… he is aggressive to other dogs. Big, little, DL don’t care. He is going to go “all Cujo” on it. With one exception, my Mom’s little chihuahua, Diego. DL loves Diego. He also outweighs him about 3x. But, the brotherly love is evident. We even did dog-training. There’s a local trainer that offers a 6 week class and we met once per week to socialize DL and work on his obedience. He gave us some great information and it was a valuable experience. But, he also said DL will never be a “dog park dog”. He is best as an “only” and protected from other dog encounters. We just don’t know what that first year held for him. When I think about what sparked his anxiety towards other dogs (and, being completely honest…some little kids and loud men!), it makes me so sad for him. But, in all the ways that matter, he is awesome! He has this funny 3-footed run he does when he goes in the yard. He is super energetic, too…until the second half of a mile run! He is a tail-wagging ball of love. The vet says he is part terrier and that part sure likes to watch the SQs (can’t say the word “squirrel” or he reacts!) out the back door and then he runs after them like he’s on fire. I have mentioned his eyes. They are big and round and deep brown. He looks at you like he’s trying to communicate something very important. We were not in the market for a dog when DL showed up. I had lost my Dad unexpectedly about 6 weeks prior to his arrival. DLs eyes remind me of my Dad’s in color. I sometimes feel almost like Dad sent DL to us…to ease the pain of losing him. You know how when you look at something or someone you love and you just get that heart squeeze? Well, DL brings me that kind of feeling. And, he loves me back. He follows me step-for-step, often bumping his nose into my calf every other footfall. Of course, I feed him and give great scratchies and he knows that good things come from me. He really loves me, until my Mom shows up for a visit. Well, never you mind Momma Dee, Grandmimi is here and she’s the one I REALLY love. Maybe Dad really is in there, somewhere? DL goes to work with us at the office. He has a kennel under the counter and he just hangs out there during our work day UNLESS Grandmimi is here. DL won’t leave her. I will ask him just like I do everyday, “DL, are you ready to go to work?” and everyday he jumps up on the ottoman for me to put on his leash and collar. But, when Grandmimi is here, he sits by her on the couch and if I ask him, he tucks his face behind her! He’s not going!! Maybe that has a little bit to do with getting to hang with his one and only Diego… And, get this: when Grandmimi & Diego are here, DL sleeps with THEM in the guestroom. It doesn’t hurt that his Grandmimi will love on him for hours at time and tells him how handsome he is. I’m not even kidding. He is an easy little guy to have around and we love him. I very grateful he decided to stick around and make our lives a whole lot sweeter.

So, we got married by a Justice of the Peace in Irving, Texas. It was a Friday afternoon at 3pm because that was as close as we could get to our honeymoon with a flight leaving out at 6am the next Monday. Let me back up. I wanted to be married to this man. I wanted all the commitment and “marriage-y” things like having his name and him as my life partner and the knowing that we had sworn this to one another. I also like the idea of being engaged… just not as much as I wanted to be actually married! Also, TO HIM, not just anyone! My long time plan, you know, before I fell way deep in love, was to finish my BS, then my MS and work a few years in my field while traveling and being independent. 27 was the age I thought might just be ideal. I don’t even know why, but “27” seemed right. And, then *BAM* the Universe caught wind of my plan and laughed and threw Daniel at me. Like hard. I was not expecting to fall so deeply in love and develop such a need for him in my life. Anyway, that is what happened and when he finally proposed just 30 minutes before midnight of my 22nd birthday (that’s another story!) I did not require a long engagement at all! He was in chiropractic college on a trimester system and I was in college on semesters so we checked our calendars and found we had a common break for a week near the end of August. So, we started planning our honeymoon and worked backwards from there. This was back before the Internet so we went to a travel agent and got travel brochures! From those pages we studied little postage stamp-sized pictures of beach locations and tried to pick one out. I was good at picking out which picture I liked but the all-too short descriptions of “sugar sand beach”, “picturesque sunsets” and “intimate resort” seemed too vague to base a real decision on. Prices for “typical packages” were super helpful as even the shortest stay at lush destinations like Aruba and Turks & Caicos were way out of our reach. Finally, we narrowed it down to Jamaica or Mexico which seemed the most reasonable for our little honeymoon fund. Then, he found these cute little beach bungalows on perfect white sand AND we could afford 5 days there! Big Win! We jumped all over it. We had it booked for probably 2 months and we told no one. At all. When I approached my boss to request the days off, she guessed if it was for our honeymoon. Well, I’m a terrible liar and I really (REALLY!) wanted to tell *someone* so I admitted it was. She was great. She never told anyone else and she was so excited to print up my new business cards with my married name on them. In the meantime, I had planned a trip to go visit my parents in Colorado. I didn’t tell them. I went and had a wonderful visit but, years later, my Mom asked me if I had it planned when I came to visit and she couldn’t get over that I did not tell her! Anyway, the time between my birthday in April and our upcoming August honeymoon was passing and it never did quite seem real. I think women, in general, do most of our emotional processing verbally. Well… in not telling anyone, I just never did that groundwork. Fast forward to August 23, 1991. I went to work and got off around noon. I came to our apartment and realized I needed to have/be/do SOMETHING! Old, new, borrowed, blue! And — pennies! I needed pennies… aren’t you supposed to wear pennies in your shoe, too? I dumped out my piggy bank and when he comes in from morning classes, I’m in the floor surrounded by all these coins. “umm, Dee. What are you doing?” I was frantically searching for pennies minted in our common birth year, 1969. He sees how urgent it is and begins helping me. Amazingly, we find not 1 but 2! I located a thin blue ribbon and tied it on my ankle. Classy, right? Old – well, this didn’t seem terrible to me at the time, but, my dress was “old”. I had worn it to a Spring formal that I went to with another guy back in high school. It was white and lace and I loved it. Why not use it? We weren’t swimming in fortune, so it seemed practical. New was my engagement ring. Four months since my engagement was still “new” to me. Whatever I decided to deem “borrowed” for the life of me I can’t remember. But, I had my good luck tokens “Old, new, borrowed, blue and a penny in her shoe”. Ok, we can go. Get married. Today. At 3pm.

We get to the courthouse. We go to the window and tell the person “We have an appointment with a Justice of the Peace”. We sit. Someone says “go to this office”. We do. The JP is an enormously tall man. Seriously. Daniel is 6 feet 4 inches tall. He is dwarfed by this guy. He looms over us and all I can think is “I’m fixing to be married by Herman Munster!” He sits us down at his huge desk and begins to ask us questions. “Is there anyone you need to call before we do this?” “Have you thought about what sort of future you will have together?” “Are you both 100% sure this is the right thing to do?” Well, no. Yes. Yes. But, I was not anticipating pre-marital counseling – I was expecting him to do legal part and not much else. I guess he took his job of joining a couple legally more seriously than I expected him to. So… that was making me nervous. And, anxious. And a whole bunch of other BIG emotions that I hadn’t really prepared myself for. Anyway, I guess we answered them more satisfactorily than a couple who might have met the night before at bar and he told us to stand. We did. He placed us in front of a Texas flag but instead of red, white and blue, it was cream, light blue and dark blue. It was pretty but it was different than any I had ever seen. Then, he did the ceremony. I remember I couldn’t quite look all the way into Daniel’s eyes so I was focusing on the knot of his tie. Herman Munster said his words and I was attempting to repeat them but I couldn’t make more than a whisper of sound. Finally, “I do” and then the whole verbiage for Daniel and Herman says “You may kiss your bride”. And Daniel bent down and kissed me and then wrapped his arms around me and I breathed in a giant whoosh of air for the first time since the vows began. I guess I had been holding my breath… whooopsie. What fun then followed makes me flush with embarrasment to this day. As I gasped for air, it was choppy inhales like a kid who is crying real hard. The exhales were like some staccato-crazy-person-hyena laughter. It didn’t improve. This mish-mash of emotional stew was like a combination of extreme sport laughing while crying with some hiccupping thrown in for extra cray cray. Yeah. And, it went on for a longer than any of us were comfortable. So, my poor new husband is standing there with his bride and I know he had to have been thinking “No, seriously, she was FINE until I married her!” I think it was an example of “hysteria” in it’s real and raw form. Well, maybe that plus a bit of hyperventilation, too. Anyway, not my finest moment, by far. Never before or since have I experienced such a confused visceral reaction to anything. Pure joy? Yes. Pure grief? Yep. Sadness-relief-compassion-anger? Yes, again. But, this. This was it’s own thing. I am not sure what all was going on but, you know what? He didn’t even care. By the time we got to the car we were both laughing about it. And, he never threw it back on me. I have told this story at my own expense dozens of times, but, he has not. He would never tell it because it might make me look bad and he wouldn’t do that. He laughs when I do recount it but WITH me, not AT me. And, that, friends is just one of the ways you know you chose well in your spouse. I often say I was luckier at 22 than I was smart. I knew I was making a good choice but you don’t know just how good until years later. Thank you for the last 32 years, Daniel. Let’s keep on doing this marriage thing for a while. ♥

On this day, 29th years ago, my sister gave birth to a baby girl. No one in my family knew she was in the hopsital, had gone into labor… or that she was even pregnant! I believe only 2 people on the planet knew she was expecting. Kim was in the process of divorcing her husband and met a guy. They had dated for a time and this pregnancy stemmed from that relationship. He told her that he had recently gotten out of a 2 year relationship where his GF had become pregnant and (I’m a little fuzzy on details here…) she, his previous GF, had either tried to trap him into marriage or he questioned whether or not he was the father. Either way, Kim knew that her short-term deal with this guy would be met with the same level of apathy so she basically ghosted him, before “ghosting” was even a thing. I don’t know the details of her discovering the pregnancy, but once she did, Kim knew she had to keep it a secret. Since she was divorcing, she needed that to be finalized because *apparently* Texas law states that a wife cannot get a divorce if she’s pregnant. I’m not a lawyer, I don’t know the in’s and out’s, but that is what KIM believed and how she told it to me. I should mention here that this is not my story, but, I’m the one left to tell it so I’ll do that to the best of my recollection. It’s been 27 years since my sister shared this with me. If you’re good a math, you’ll see there’s a 2 year gap in Emily’s arrival and my knowledge of such. My sister and her 4 year old daughter had come to visit. The little one was still sleeping and Kim got up. I remember I was standing in the kitchen drinking hot tea and asking her if she wanted some. She said, “No. I want to tell you a story.” We went outside in the cool of the morning and she started telling me about this time in her life. Kim had left her husband. She was living in an apartment with a friend. She had a 2 year old. She was working and was dating. Then, she was pregnant. She was barely making it with just the one child. Divorces cost money even when both parties are in favor and there aren’t many assets. Kim was stretched thin with the emotional and financial responsibilities of being a single mom to one, much less two, especially in this time of transition. I remember her telling me, “I knew if I could just put this baby on a shelf for a year or two and get my life together, I could keep her.” But, she also knew that that was not a possibility. She didn’t believe she could risk getting prenatal care because what if the divorce judge found out? She couldn’t let it be “known” to anyone. She had been pregnant before. She knew what to do. She was careful to not gain additional weight. She was still carrying some baby weight from her now 2 year old so she had that “cushion”. She wore scrubs to work and loose fitting clothes to hide her figure. She was careful about who she saw and in what circumstances. She planned family visits and timed things out so she would see us, my aunt, grandmother and our parents before the final stages of her term. She prayed to God that she would be able to give this baby to a family who would love and care for her and not lose her mind. And, she waited. At eight months, she stood in front of a judge and was granted a divorce. At eight months and one day, she went to the family clinic. She contacted an adoption agency in San Antonio and they sent her three packets to choose who would take her baby. She rejected all three immediately. A day or two later, she looked again. There was one couple in Ohio who she liked. She was a short blond, he was tall and dark. They had struggled with fertility and given up on conceiving. Adoption had frustrated them and betrayed their trust, but, they were trying one final time. Kim chose them. Not long after making her choice, she pulled her boss aside at the end of the day. I believe this was a Thursday. She told him she was going to need Friday off from work so she could deliver her baby. Her plan was to have the baby Friday, recover over the weekend and return to work on Monday. She knew this was the only possible way it would work to remain a secret. So, at this point, only her roommate and her boss know. She goes home, leaves her 2 year old in the care of her roommate and goes to the hospital. She goes into labor and has Emily. The adoptive parents are notified and immediately fly from Ohio to Texas. I know this next part for certain. That evening, after Emily has arrived, the nurse asked her if she wants to see the baby. Kim said yes. She holds Emily close and is aware that this is her only time to be with her as “her baby” before the adoptive parents come. But, my sister is exhausted. She has kept this secret and done this on her own with no support and she has serious concerns about whether she will be able to keep it together mentally, spiritually, financially and emotionally. As she tells Emily this, she can barely keep her eyes open. She knows this time is the only time they will ever have and that she is going to sleep. So, she asks Emily to forgive her and she rests.

To my knowledge, her biological father is unaware of Emily’s existence. I live in the same town as the previous girlfriend to bio father. She is an aquaintence. She has a son who is about 2 years older than Emily who I suspect is Emily’s half-brother by way of them sharing their father’s genes. Such a strange thing, this life. So much sadness, so much beauty, so many secrets. As I share this on Emily’s 29th birthday, I hope it brings some light. She’s a beautiful woman now, Emily. I’m so proud of her and I know her “Texas Mom” watching over us from above is, too.

Do you know the joke where the long-married wife asks her husband “Honey, do you love me?” and he answers her “Of course I do! I told you I did when I married ya and if it ever changes I’ll let you know.” This is the kind of stability you want in a marriage. I’m not saying the above communication is *ideal* but, that kind of steadiness, heck yeah. I am fortunate enough to hear the “I love yous” at least daily but, that “it ain’t changing” kind of unquestionable commitment is what I appreciate more than anything. It’s like a good habit, but more than a habit… more like a good compulsion. A compulsion is an irresistable urge to act in a certain way. If you know someone who has Obsessive Compulsive Disorder they may have seemingly odd routines they must carry out. Maybe it’s touching a door knob a specific number of times or a certain number of swipes (37 for my friend Amy) when putting on deodorant. It can be any of a wide-range of behaviors which may be good, bad or benign. I say my husband has the “good kind of OCD”. He has created behavior patterns that are health-promoting and security based. So, I know when we are leaving to go out of town for a bit, to just go sit in the truck and let him make his rounds. He’s going to check the doors, the windows and the thermostat. All the lights will be off and no big appliances will be running. I know this because he’s going to check on things. All the things. It’s going to take a few extra minutes but… I don’t have to worry that we will have left with the A/C on “snow” or that the venting window in the bathroom will be open while we are away. See, the GOOD KIND of OCD. He’s the kind of man that actually likes eating the same meals. I’m not even talking about meatloaf on Monday, pot roast on Tuesday kind of regularity. I’m talking about “the same breakfast, snack and lunch” almost daily. It’s what we have worked out that works well for us. So, a little over 10 years ago he decided to run a mile. Every day. And, he has.

He started on his 44th birthday and has continued to run at least one mile every day since. After doing this for one year, you are allowed to register as a “Streak Runner” with an international group. They keep an active list of runners and they are categorized by how many years each person has been going. Ten years of streaking earns the designation of “experienced”. It’s amazing! I know it’s amazing because I have witnessed this man do it for all that time. Most of his miles are solo. Occasionally, he is joined by me or other friends.

One year we dressed up as Running Forrest and Party Jenny for Halloween. We were out late at a friend’s house and since it was after midnight I jokingly suggested he run home and not have to get up and run the next day – since it already was the next day. Oh, he did and, in costume!

Some days are nice for running and some are just shy of abysmal. He has run through the flu a couple of times. He has run in wind, rain, sleet, snow and ice so slippery he had to use metal cleets.

He has run on pretty days, wet days, dust storm days and has fallen at least once that he admitted to (but ONLY because I saw the rip in his running tights and asked!) Several years ago when his dad was in the hospital, he ran a snowy 5K in a hospital parking garage. Old high school friends visiting their own sick parent saw him and waved him down and they shared a *moment”. (Shout out to Brad and Lea Ann G.) He has run through the loss of both of his parents. He ran through COVID. He has run through grief, joy, angst and heartbreak. I venture to guess he has run through slight aggravation with me! On travel days when you have to be at the airport stupid early, he gets up even earlier and runs his mile. When we schedule a trip, he maps out a neighborhood park, route or trail as part of his prep. On longer running days, he will often run a 5k. 5K distances equal donuts! Donuts are a rare, but cherished reward for all the miles. Whatever activities are going on, he gets up early and comes in from his run ready to participate. If we stay up late and everyone sleeps in, he’s gone running when we are just rousing. It’s this kind of attention to detail or “good OCD” that allows him to continue his streak. Our friends ask if his streak is still “alive” and, athough he answers YES, it’s hard to wrap your brain around. Because then, they say “well, what about when you’re sick?” He still runs. It’s the first thing he does in his day, every damn day. And, every step run has been outside in the elements. We ain’t talking treadmills, here! Sometimes, this leads to awesome views.

Several years ago a news reporter contacted him about his streak and did a little story on him. The link has disappeared but I remember how comfortable he was on camera and being so proud of him for letting our family, friends and the viewing audience see this side of him. See… the thing is, he’s a private kind of guy. He doesn’t want a lot of attention. His streak is “his thing”. At his 5 year “streak-aversary” a friend said to me “You gotta do something!” I agreed and I snuck around and did something. It is helpful to mention here that this guy nearly always goes to bed after I do. He gets up at least an hour before me. We work together. I don’t have much “sneaky” time. But, I paid cash for my decorations on a solo visit to see my parents in another state (so no credit card or Amazon action to see!) I got up in wee hours of the morning and hung streamers and banners and decorated the house for him to wake up to. Who knew those banners were NOT pre-strung?? Not me. So, it took a couple of hours and I had to climb on cabinets and barstools but it was there when he walked out of our bedroom the next morning.

That same day we had a CrossFit event with a bunch of friends and I had secretly invited a bunch of people to stop by our home for a slice of pizza or a cupcake in celebration of his 49th birthday and 5 years of his streak. It was great. He appreciated the love and so here we are another 5 years down and it’s his 10 year streakaversary. He is still doing it! He has just made it a part of his good OCD routine and his life. Kind of like he has made me part of his routine and his life. I love this man and his compulsion to stick to his commitments and honor his promises to himself, me and our marriage.

I was close to 50 years old before I got my Tanya. She showed up in my life one day and I have been changed for the better ever since. I met her at CrossFit… although, she says she was “aware” of me for some time. Our local CrossFit box (gym) posted a lot pictures and videos on Facebook. I was a regular there so I showed up frequently in their media which she followed. So, Tanya started coming to classes and we chatted. Nothing too warm, but “not unfriendly.” Then, we began to partner some in the workouts. I am not sure how or when we exchanged cell numbers but, we did. I started to receive the occasional random text. The “Have a great day” or “Hope you have a fun trip” or “Man, you killed today’s WOD” started. (WOD is CrossFit speak for Workout of the Day.) It was almost like being courted!

Anyway… you come to a point in life where you might “think” your life is full. You might think that between work/family/workouts/in-and-out of town friends/spouse/pets/business associates/meal prep/aquaintenances/maintaining your home and whatnot that your life is “full”. As in, “full to capacity.” As in, “I cannot think that adding one more person/job/responsibility/pet/hobby is a good idea, much less desirable.” And… you “might” just be wrong. I was. I was pretty sure that I had made my last really close friend. I was content to bank on the many old and a few relatively new relationships already in place. I wasn’t willing to give up any older friendships and, it seemed, I didn’t have time nor energy to cultivate new ones. I just wasn’t open to any new applicants. Ha! Life is funny like that. So is Tanya.

Eventually, we ended up an after-hours gathering. It had to have been a CrossFit thing. As it happens, some liquid courage was consumed and she opened up. Apparently, she sought me out. She was determined to become friends! She admitted to stalking me. I was somewhat flattered and somewhat concerned. Was this some sort of Single White Female thing? Nope. Just a person who decided we would be friends. And, we are!

There are a few things to know about Tanya. She’s not a hugger. She’s not a cryer. She has a temper. She WILL hug you – but not a frivolous just-because-it’s-a-Tuesday hug. She will hug you when you need it. She will cry if she sees someone she loves hurting. I have never seen her cry because something hurt her. But, if someone hurts her kid, her friend or an animal; she’s probably going to, but just a little. If she sees a dog, she is going to pet it! And, she’s going to say “Can I pet that dog?” in a husky cartoon voice while doing it! Her temper is quick and you would most definitely want her on your side in a street fight. She is lean and scrappy, so don’t even think of taking her spot! Her knowledge of music and the “right” lyrics is encyclopedic. And, when the tunes start, Tanya is going to dance! Also, she has abs. Like visible abdominal muscles. So many people “want” abs, but Tanya has the discipline to have them. She works out, often 2x a day and it is evident. She is no slacker and she won’t let you either. Think you might need 55lbs on the barbell – uh uh! Tanya will push you to do more and load your weight herself if you don’t!

But, the most important thing to know about Tanya is that she is the Queen of Giving an Actual Fu&k. She pays attention when someone is struggling and makes a point to “do something”. She’s as real of a friend as it gets. When most people will say “let me know what I can do”, Tanya shows up. She left a suprise succulent at my car, once. I don’t recall what my sadness was, but, I DO remember that she acknowledged it. I remember when my Dad passed away unexpectedly she came and sat with me. I talked and cried and she did the hard thing of showing up when nothing is going to get better for a while. Whether it’s your first (or fifth) comp or your kid’s athletic event, Tanya is likely to be there, usually with another friend in tow!

When the mother of a friend got diagnosed with breast cancer, Tanya organized a group of us to gather up “mother/daughter” gifts for them to receive while the Mom was undergoing surgery. When a new kid showed up at workout and was exercising in casual non-supportive shoes, she came up with an appropriate pair of workout shoes in his size. I mean, who does that? Well, Tanya does.

It might be a delivery of flowers on the anniversary of a loss. It might be a rice bag when you have strained something. (A rice bag that she has sewn her-own-self, at that!) It might be a jar of beets from somewhere she’s been recently because she knows you like beets! When another friend’s grandaughter got a scary diagnosis, she organized our friend group into a weekly rotation of thinking-of-you deeds.

You are not going to feel like you don’t have a team on your side when Tanya is around. There are so many examples of her kindness. Probably examples more that I DON’T know about than I DO. She doesn’t talk about this kind of thing much – usually just enough to get the ball rolling. I might get a text “Hey, we need to do something for so-and-so” or “When can you do dinner for {insert name here}?” Yes, we do. What do we do? It almost doesn’t matter, but the acknowledgement that “You are not alone. We see you and we are with you” does matter.

Tanya is such a beautiful expression of being a real and true friend and seeing one’s humanness. There is such a need for this kind of connection and friendship. Especially when you don’t *think* you have room for it. So, yeah… everyone needs a Tanya. She will make you a little better and the ripple effect of just *that* – well, it’s immeasurable. So, get you a TANYA, ’cause I ain’t giving you mine! ♥

Happy Anniversary to us! I am so grateful to get to share this life with you. When we got married at age 22, I don’t believe either us had a clue what life would have in store for our future. I know I was “luckier than I was smart” when I picked you! Luckier in that I did not know how well you would love me, stand by me and never judge me as we have grown up over the course of our marriage. We are completely different people now at 53! I am so proud of who we have evolved into. You are so caring and compassionate. You take time to genuinely listen and hear me. You see me. I love that I have known you almost all of my life. Who knew 7th grade homeroom would introduce us to each other?? You have taught me so many things, like how to slow down and enjoy a moment. I am so fortunate that you (and your Mom!) thought I was cute at 16. I am still sorry that I broke your heart once, a long time ago. I am still glad I took advantage of your kindness and “made” you remain friends with me. I am so grateful you decided to choose me and continue to choose me, every day. My life would certainly be different if you were not a part of it, but, there is just no way it could be better. I know this and I am so honored to be your wife. I am so proud of you, of us! We still have a lot of life to live. Let’s keep on doing great things together and collecting memories, not stuff! It’s been working out pretty well, so far! I lover you!