moving out and moving on....

I remember how much I dreaded moving into that dark, dungeon like apartment. It was worse than a bachelor pad, it was a dump. The shower didn't drain, the closet doors were broken, the blinds were trashed. I tried to do everything I could to make it like a home. I bought silly shag rugs and I sewed pillows and potted plants. Now my poor plants are dead. The rugs have become drying racks for sweaty ultimate clothes and the pillows are now randomly thrown around the place.

I don't think I will miss the crappy furniture or the clogged up shower, but I will miss the feeling I had when I first moved in. That feeling of optimism and happiness thinking you are taking the next step with someone that you really love. Coming home to someone that you know really cares how your day was and having the confort of knowing that if it was a bad day that person knows just how to make you feel better.

I know that everything happens for a reason and that I am better off now than I was 6 months ago but it is hard sometimes not to want to go and cuddle up in my old bed and have someone kiss me goodnight and tell me how much they love me. It is even harder knowing that you are losing that one person you can always depend on to be there for you, that knows you better than anyone else and that loves you no matter how stupid you act or how bad you look.




Yet even now, with tears in my eyes, I would not change a thing. I have traveled to places I would have never gone on my own. I have had so many amazing memories and have learned so much that I gladly take these tears and sadness. They remind me that I had something that is worth missing. That in the past five years I have been loved, I have been challanged, and most importantly I have loved.

~ TM ~

it is better to have loved and lost than to have lost your key

Last night I learned a lesson in love. When I was young I thought love was racing hearts, longing gazes and the yearning desire to hold and be held. I have felt these things time and time again and have walked away from them as soon as the heart begins to falter, the gazes become glances and the desire turns to obligation. Still I considered this to be love. Fleeting as it may be, but love indeed.

As it turns out I was wrong. Love is so much more powerful, wonderful and painful than any of the things I mentioned before. I watched helplessly as someone took over the role I had played for so many years. It felt strange and sad but more than anything I realized that I want to know that the role would be filled in my absence.

I found myself taking the blame for things that were not my fault last night. My ego took a backseat so that I could make someone feel better. I could have argued that the fault of a lost key would lie in the one that carried the key. I could have complained about the complete lack of sleep and the cuts on my hands from my first (and hopefully last) attempt of breaking and entering.

I didn't because more than I wanted to vent, or stick up for myself, or ridicule stupidity I wanted to make someone happy. I wanted to take away their frustration and humiliation and give them whatever it was that would make them happy. What made me realize that this was truly love is that I expected (and wanted) nothing in return.

I used to think that love was selfish. A desire to be everything to one person, to have them think you were their everything in return. Demanding affection and destroying individuality.

Now I see that love is letting the person be exactly who they are, giving them the space to find happiness anywhere they can get it, and encouraging them to live the best lives that they can.


On a sadder note:


The war in Iraq finally hits home. I had an exboyfriend in Iraq until just recently and I was always so relieved to hear from him each time that he wrote. He sent pictures to us that showed him smiling and getting hugs from little Iraqi children and somehow he made me feel like there was some happiness for soldiers in the savage craziness they are forced to live.

However, last night I learned that one of Kevin's family died that day. I did not know him but I knew the people that loved him. He had an incredible mom and a brand new wife and baby. Although his life was cut short, I could tell he was loved in this way, and I am sure it made all the difference.

It is in moments like these that I realize how important it is not to take anything for granted. Life is too short to be cowardly. Live by the phrase Carpe Diem or maybe more appropriately here Semper Fi...always be faithful...to your heart, your friends, and your loves. So that every day that you live will have meaning and lead to even better tomorrows.