Two Years

I’m sure that everyone can name at least one person who has held a place of influence in their life. Some people are fortunate enough to name several, or many. I consider myself to have known and loved some truly fantastic people in my day, but there are those special souls—those comet-like individuals—that shoot through the sky of your life and light it up with wonder. I was changed by a little light named Clara Quinn Phillips.

Today marks 2 years since that precious light left this earth, but not a day has gone by since that I have not mourned her passing and been grateful for the joy and laughter she brought to others while she was here. When she was just a little bit of a girl (not even a year old), I had a near shrine to her hanging in my cubicle at work; her smile was THAT infectious. Every time I felt even the slightest bit stressed out, I would just look at her face and remember that there were much better and more important things to think about than worrying about some meeting or project deadline. I don’t think there was a Facebook picture or video of her that I ever missed seeing (or liking, or commenting on); her cuteness was unparalleled, and I was a huge fan. She was her mom’s little snack-eating sidekick, and she was always a part of our interactions and stories, whether she was physically present or not.

Since that day 2 years ago, I have experienced a lot of joy in meeting and growing to love Clara’s baby sister. I have laughed and looked at hundreds of photos and shared stories and memories in my times with her mom. I have also cried a lot of tears, and I cry even more as I write this now. Clara’s name is never far from my tongue, nor her face from my thoughts. I have a birdcage decoration on the wall of my bedroom, and on it hang a few little artifacts that remind me of the things I want to focus on. Clara’s picture is front and center. Because more than just mourning her death, I want to continue honoring and celebrating her life with how I live my own. One evening in early spring of 2017, after a long visit with Clara’s mom and dad, I drove home in the darkness, tears streaming down my face. The sadness was almost too much to bear. I knew that, on some levels, it would make sense in the face of so much grief to protect my own heart from any further pain or discomfort—to dial in to ‘business as usual.’ It was a pivotal moment for me, though, because I also knew that being broken open like this was an opportunity to head in a new direction with my life...to stop being afraid of some things and to make some real and lasting changes, to get my priorities in order. This one thing I knew for sure: I owed it to Clara’s legacy to run headlong into the unknown and risk failing and being hurt for the possibility that I might find something much greater in front of me. 

And I did just that. Over the next few months, I chose to dedicate some efforts in my life to Clara—things I may share publicly at some point, and some I may never tell another soul. But in my heart, I know that Clara knows. She inspires me every day in the way that she loved her friends, her mom and dad, and even her dog Miller. She loved to dance and be silly. She loved music and singing. She wasn’t afraid of who she was, and she was living her best life. She deserved the very best. We all do. 

Clara’s mom told me one day a few months after Clara’s passing that she and her husband had been taking a walk in their neighborhood and had found that Clara carved her name on the stop sign at the end of their road, where she used to wait for the bus. I kept that little detail tucked away and recently stopped one day after a visit to see if I could find it. I admit I was hoping to catch a glimpse of her, and I was both thrilled and pained to see her name written there. Clara made her indelible mark in that place—in this place. She left behind pieces of herself, of her spirit, in this world, and I like to think that some of those pieces are inside of me now, too. 

Clara, sweet girl, I’ve made many promises to you over the last 2 years that I won’t let you down—that I’ll be there for your mom and dad, that I’ll be the best friend to your little sister, that I’ll never, ever forget you and do my best to ensure that no one else does, either. You’ve changed me for good, little light. You’ve left an indelible mark on my heart. I will always carry you with me, and with sadness and joy, I remember you today.

Love always, Sarah

39

this past week, I celebrated my 39th birthday. so hard to believe that i've reached the age where i can truly say i'm almost 40. where exactly did the years go?

on the cusp of that milestone, i am scrolling through memory albums and making lists of new memories i want to create...new things i want to do or experience. and really, i can think of so many things that i haven't yet done, so it would be easy to feel pressured or down about how much time has gone by that i have 'wasted.' but if there's one thing i've learned it's that life isn't a waste. for those days i spent lying on the couch watching tv, maybe i just really needed the rest. for the days spent crying or carrying on about something, maybe i just really needed to work some things out. for these and many other things in my life, i am learning to forgive myself. to cut myself some slack and to avoid the waste of worrying. because that really is a shame - to spend even one minute kicking yourself or wishing your past away.

i've made all the choices that i've made and i'll continue to make all the ones to come. i'm owning it this year. good, bad, indifferent - they're all mine.

and as i check off items, one by one, i know i will have a few people around me who truly get it, who love me and are proud of me because they know what courage it takes some days to just get by. and by God, i am grateful for those souls. they have saved my very life on more than one occasion. they are, quite often, the inspiration for adding new items to my lists, for giving me the pep talks when i need them, and for holding my hand when i've disappointed myself. 

and i am learning, even, to be that friend to myself, finally. to be the voice of forgiveness and acceptance over the criticism. to be the one who says 'try again' when all i see are unmet hopes and dead ends. 

nothing is perfect (nor will it ever be) and i'm learning more and more to be okay with that. i've got another year around the sun, God willing, and i'm going to make the most of it. my camera is charged up, my pen is poised, and i have fellow adventurers at the ready. let the next leg of the journey begin. one memory at a time.

p.s.

memories created in the past 5 days of this new birth year:

*watching the sun set over the chesapeake bay on my birthday evening, complete with a few sparklers and fireworks

*falling down in the ocean and laughing as the waves knocked me back again, over and over

*feeling the warm air on my face and the sunshine on my shoulders

*eating truly amazing food - my first 7-course chef's tasting menu - and documenting every bit of it in photos

*smelling the salt air

*finding new fun places in and around my favorite beach spot

*having deep talks and lots of laughter with my best friend

*watching fireworks from locust point on independence day with my fellow baltimoreans

*experiencing some july days that felt almost like spring - low humidity, warm sunshine, and great breezes (what a gift!)

To have and to hold....

This morning found me at the funeral of the father of my high school best friend. I sat there in the church, hard pew beneath me, and thought about how time passes so quickly (truly) and how much I wish I had given less of a damn for so many years what others thought and had worried less about what ‘might’ happen if I had chosen my dreams over the safe path. But my road was my road. And my pain was my pain. It’s best, I think, to make peace with that while one can before half your life disappears out from under you. A hard truth to feel…more uncomfortable than the cushionless pew beneath me....

The service was a basic catholic Eucharist, and I managed to hold it together for much of it until the priest was wrapping up his homily. He recounted that toward the end of his life, my friend's dad was trying to communicate something to her mother, his wife of 43 years, but he was struggling to speak. When he finally got the message across, he repeated it to his bride, over and over: 'to have and to hold...to have and to hold....'

In his final breaths, it was the LOVE that mattered most. It was the love for her, for his family, that he wanted both to leave behind and to take with him into his final sleep. It was that love that, beyond the grave, left me in tears that still, hours later, continue to catch in my throat.

Days move quickly lately. Months slip past, almost unnoticeably. Years are gone in a matter of breaths. It is the LOVE that carries us through. It is the LOVE that makes the hard pew of life more bearable for one more day, one more hour, one more minute.

I don't know what to do with myself, half the time, but I do know what I want. I want the 'til death do us part kind of love. I want to make my peace with what still needs to be surfaced in my own life...to put to rest the things that are preventing me from living more deeply, from having what I want out of life.

And although I am sad that it was death that brought me to these thoughts this morning, I am profoundly grateful for the chance to redirect myself while there is still daylight to burn. It's life I'm after. It's love I want. It's continuous perspective I need. I'll take these gifts where I can get them. However they come, let them come.

'like the corners of my mind....'

this morning i had to sort through some boxes of cards and photos to locate a baby pic or two to take with me to a shower i'm attending today. and as i was sifting through all these treasures, i found some cards from my grandparents, notes from old friends, and the hundreds of things my best friend has written me over the years. and i couldn't help but feel overwhelmed with the love contained inside those cardboard structures. i was also reminded, unfortunately, of how much i've lost...of how some of those people whose handwriting graces birthday cards or whose faces smile in pictures are no longer in this world. my grandpa al, my grandma jane, my friend polly...i shed tears for them all this morning.

and then there are people with whom i've sort of lost touch. i mean, i know where in the world they are, but our lives have taken different paths. this is the case, really, with a number of friends whose memories line those boxes. and the whole experience had me thinking....can you ever really go back?

i've made efforts over time to keep in touch with various people—and really, facebook has helped me to reconnect with a lot of people from my younger days—but the daily grind kicks back in so quickly and it's really, really hard to sustain those connections beyond something utterly superficial. and in truth, i think we're not really meant to turn around. life is lived in forward motion. if one chooses to interact with people from the past, it has to be about who they are NOW, not who they were then. and what i've learned is that some of us have never really grown up much. i see the faces of people who are still clinging to their teenage selves, still drinking like they're in college, still trying to avoid their own realities. and as much as i get that, on some level, i just can't be there.

no, see, i'm done pretending the way that 18-year-old me used to feel she had to do in order to get by. i'm done living in a big game of charades and comedy sketches, and 'what would you really think of me if you knew what i was thinking'-type scenarios. i prefer to look you in the eye and just be me, unabashed. and the me that i am now might not be super palatable to some people who've called me 'friend' over the years. i mean, sure, i haven't turned into a jerk or anything, but i've also come to this place where i no longer feel the need to live up to others' expectations. and some of my more zealous ways have been tempered into something a bit more...well....reasonable for me and where i live my life these days.

so while it's lovely and heartwarming (and, at times, sad) to sift through what i was and where i went and who i was with, i want to see what today will bring...what memories there are to be made in THIS space, at THIS time, with the beautiful people around me. and i welcome tomorrow with open arms and the hope that my future 'looking backs' will find much sweetness and very little sorrow. for now, though, head up, eyes open. onward....

the return of fall (and me)

gee, golly, it's been awhile. i'm still here. really, i am. in fact, i've started and abandoned no fewer than five blog posts over the last two months. let's see if this one sticks, shall we?

too much to chronicle of what's been going on, so i'll just pick up from today and head forward. work has been insanely busy. my personal life has been equally so, and i'm trying to mentally prepare for a weekend away in NYC ('what is it about you?' kudos to you if you know where that comes from....). i'm super excited to be staying with two dear friends, but i'm also feeling a little overwhelmed at, well, how big that city is and how much there is to DO. i think what i need to do is take all the pressure off of myself to find 'fun' and just remember that i'm there to enjoy the company. besides, i'm too exhausted to exhaust myself further (and then have to start back up at work on monday morning)....

which leads me to my next thought: all i want is some uninterrupted time alone to sleep and just be. i cannot believe that christmas is a mere six weeks away, and all i find myself asking is where the heck has the fall gone??

with the hectic pace of the day-to-day, there seems to be less and less time for enjoying just being in the city right now. on friday, the simple pleasure of walking home from jury duty astounded me with the awareness that i'm never just out and about in the streets, interacting with the wind and the smells and the sounds of life around me. i need more humanity in my day....in my life....

for now, though, i'll settle for some mindless tv, a glass of icy cold water, and the hope of pleasant dreams to carry me into tuesday.

'the answer, my friend....'

at the risk of baring my soul here, i have to take a moment and speak 'aloud' (a.k.a. fingers to keyboard) some truths that have been gradually surfacing in my mind and, therefore, my life. see, for a long time now, i was kind of shut down to my own emotions about certain areas of my life, because, quite honestly, it was easier to 'go there' than to feel the disappointment in its place. work has been busy with new challenges and opportunities, and i didn't have to try that hard to dig in and give myself the space to pursue my career, all the while knowing that there were parts of my life that were getting no air time. to be honest, this wasn't ideal for me, but the relative barrenness of my social landscape seemed to create the opportunity for a time of pulling back.

well, i had that time, and i was grateful for it, in a way, because it was very clarifying for me. and as a result, i came to a few conclusions.

first (and foremost), i am ready for a great adventure, whatever that may mean. in a conversation with a friend recently, i was mentioning some aspect of a past relationship that had always frustrated me, and the other person said, quite plainly, 'it doesn't sound like you're past all of that.' this statement caused me to sit back for a second and listen to those words i had just spoken and ask myself how they must have sounded coming out of my mouth. and i realized in that moment that my friend's statement wasn't the truth. the truth was that i hadn't changed the way i was talking about the situation, even though my feelings had changed.

this small kernel of awareness began to enlighten other areas of my thinking and made me realize that, in the area of relationships, i have been feeling more and more ready to be out there, to give and receive the love i've got inside of me, but hadn't yet said it to myself, to God, to the vast unknown.

so last week, i was in my car late in the evening, driving down the dirty, barren streets of my city, and i just began to speak my own truth out loud. i can't say that i was entirely praying, but i can't say that i wasn't. i just knew that everything inside of me - my fears and hopes and intentions - needed to come out and be given the air time they deserved. and the most important outcome of all of this is not so much that my world turned on a dime, but that i began to really open up, more expectant of and ready to receive all the beauty and love and good things that can come my way. (and, by extension, that anything UNhelpful can go....)

this has clearly been a long time coming and it couldn't have happened at a better moment in the grand scheme of things. a couple of weeks ago, i posted as my facebook status that i am 'open to possibility.' well, i just AM, and since cracking open the door to my heart, i am here to say that i have already noticed a shift in the wind....

methinks it's time to let my hair down....

bmore. be more.

it's been almost two months since i moved into my new apartment, and i've been trying to give myself the room to bond with my space, my neighborhood, my new understanding of life from the 19th floor. i'll be honest, though—it's been really challenging for me to connect lately. i'm not sure if it's because my mind is awash with projects and deadlines and schedules, or whether this change has shaken me up enough that i simply cannot yet adjust, but i've felt so transient and disconnected over the last 7 weeks. it's enough to drive a girl a little crazy.

within the last week, though, things have begun to shift a bit. last weekend, i walked up charles for a mini street fair, and i was loving just being out and about, smelling and seeing and feeling everything around me. and last night, salimah came over and we walked to a local pub up the block, and as i sat there taking in the conversations and smiling giddily at the waiter (i'm sorry, but he was a smidge adorable), i realized something: this is my neighborhood. mine. i LIVE here.

so now it's saturday night, and i've just had a day out gallivanting around the city i call home, eating and drinking (caipirinha, anyone??) and shopping and wandering, and now i'm back in my quiet, cozy apartment, and i just feel grateful. for all of it, really, but mostly for the shift that has occurred in my life to bring me to this place. it has thrust me out of the rut i was in (geographically, anyway) and made me uncomfortable enough that i'm starting to wake up and remember all the things i haven't been doing lately. like feeling anything deeply.

suddenly, i'm experiencing emotions that have been lying dormant—some good and some not so great—and i'm realizing that my life, as cher horowitz would say, is screaming for a makeover. if there's anything living downtown has reminded and inspired me to do, it is to give my love and life away again. every time i've been in a place where my soul seems shallow and stagnant, i need only to look outside myself, to start serving others and giving joy and sustenance to people i may never meet face to face, and suddenly the world around me is vibrant once again.

as someone who believes in God, i cannot live my life stowed away in my 19th floor 'tower,' looking down on all that lies around me and failing to get dirt on my shoes and the smell of the city in my hair. there is so much humanity down on those streets, and i want to be part of it. i'm not quite sure what this means yet, but somehow, i will stretch myself...become uncomfortable so that someone else can have a better life.

i was reminded recently that loving others isn't something you can do with restraint. it's either go big or go home in matters of the heart. i have always known this, but day-to-day life has taught me to hold it back for fear of overwhelming another. to be careful, just in case that love isn't returned. well, you know what? i don't care anymore. if people can't deal with my heart, then so be it.

all i know is that, for the time being, i call this city home. and i love it. i love being here. i love the crazy people who talk to themselves, the ridiculously friendly waiters at my favorite haunts, the snarky older dude i always ride the elevator with, the woman working in my garage who nearly breaks her back every morning just to stick her head out the window and wave at me, the tired-faced people walking home from work just as i'm leaving to go to my job, the traffic, the ball games, the fireworks, the police on their segways, the steam pouring out of the gutters, the church bells pealing, the screech of the lightrail, the sun setting over the abandoned buildings every evening.

this is my underdog city, the place where my heart first opened up and started to really take the world in. and in all of my uncertainty and fears and hopes, my arms—and eyes—are open up here on the 19th floor. my heart is ready to connect again...to do and feel and be more. so get ready, baltimore. i'm really just getting started with you....

at the end of this road....

there's a chill in the air and i'm hunkering under blankets. fall has begun her yearly introduction and while i'm not yet quite ready for chilled-to-the-bones mornings, i am in need of the rich beauty and calm that only autumn can bring me. i'm not going to wax poetic about apples and fires and falling leaves tonight, though. what i'm experiencing can only be fixed with a journey that leads me somewhere i've never been. i need an open road tonight, lots of music, stars in the sky, and a river at the end of it all where i can sit in the dark and listen as it laps the shore. i want the time and space for all these words to pour out of me. God, how they ache to run from my fingers and drip from my hair (what's left of it these days).

do you understand me, internets? do you even know what it is i'm talking about? probably not....maybe it's just me here in this place of desperation and hope. maybe i'm the only one trembling like that red maple leaf, in all her glory, about to take the final plunge. it is fall. i have fallen. i am laid bare and in no way pretending otherwise. before winter comes with her burying snows and gray days, let it be known that i am still alive inside this place, still trying to keep the home fires burning, still hoping for more, still knowing that the river is there, waiting for me. and when i do go there...some day...you can rest assured that i'm not looking back.

marked for life

on sunday night i managed to burn a crescent moon into my hand on the inside of my toaster oven that was heated up to a balmy 450 degrees. since then, day by day, i have watched my skin try its best to regain some composure as the mark has turned from a harsh, blistery pink to a patchy, deepening mauve, not unlike a shade of lipstick i currently own, i might add. i feel fairly certain that within another week, it will have faded even more, and yet with what i know about my skin, i am certain that i will see evidence of that slip for years to come (if not forever). perhaps it is my life's way of reminding me that it's hard to move on from certain events entirely unscathed.

but the marks are also a reminder that you can heal, you can move past pain, you can watch as your resilient self attacks a problem area and does a valiant job dealing with all the ramifications so that you can get on with your life.

i am certain that if you could open up my soul, you would find hundreds of crescent moons—some tiny, some long and dramatically arched. but i can say without hesitation that there is no blistering reality in my life at this time...no pain that prevents me from moving freely from one situation to the next...no limitation on what i can do or be or feel. there are marks there, to be sure, but they are the lipstick smudges of my past, a laundry list of all that i have overcome. they are the marks that remind me on a daily basis: sarah, you're stronger than all of this....