Category Archives: In my mind

That day.

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Anna in nursing school

This is that day.
That one day.
That one day that can never just pass like the others pass.
Today is the day when my scar burns.

Any other day, It is easy to see the thousands of days of growing and listening I’ve done between 1982 and now.

But not this day.

This is that day.

That day my dad picked me up from school.
He never did that.
There could only be one reason he picked me up on that day.

He didn’t even wait. He held my hand as we crossed Allenwood Drive and spoke in the most gentle way he has ever spoken to me.

“Your mom died today.”

And I said, “OK.”
And then October 6, 1982 became that day.

The day that will never pass quietly.
The day I just allow myself to feel it.
To feel it as though thousands of days have not passed since that day.

Like I’m still in that crosswalk.
On Allenwood Drive.
On October 6, 1982.

That day.

Right-handed thoughts

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A few months ago, I started writing and drawing with my right hand. I’m naturally left-handed, so the result has been both child-like and comical. And the look of my right-handed penmanship has definitely influenced the subject matter of most of these drawings.

However, on the plane flight home from Seattle, I was thinking about more serious things and decided a right-handed drawing might be the best way to express some heavier thoughts.

Normally I post these on Facebook. But I think this one is better suited here, where things are more quiet. This isn’t intended to start a religious debate. These are just my thoughts, poured out at 37,000 feet, through my right hand. Cheers.

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Reminder

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I was reminded, tonight, that we are comprised of the sum of passed moments.
Both the good and the bad.
The moments we cherish and those we wish to forget.

They are all there.
Where they have been all along.
Right behind us.
Dog-eared pages from earlier chapters already written.
Acting as reminders, motivators, mile-markers.

And while those moments are unchangeable,
they change us.
Leave indelible marks on our souls.
And once they have passed,
they can no longer be changed.
They can only be learned from.
Reflected upon.
And then gracefully left where they sit.
There’s a simplicity in that I’m appreciative of tonight.

Something bigger than me

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Let’s say I gathered every moment when I felt fear, uncertainty or doubt and stacked them on top of each other; and then I took each moment when something breath-taking, beautiful, magical, or unexpected happened and carefully stacked each one on top of the previous stack.

And then, say, I took every post-it note, napkin, PG&E bill, bank statement, cereal box, candy wrapper or piece of binder paper that I’ve ever written my thoughts on and stacked them on top of the previous stack.

After that, what if I took every single moment when I felt cared for and loved by all of the amazing people I have in my life and stacked them on top of each other, on top of the previous stack.

And then, what if I took all of the roads I’ve ever been lost on, sunsets I’ve ever seen, sunrises I’ve ever been awake for, ocean waves I’ve ever paddled into, tall trees I’ve ever silently stood beside, and full moons I’ve ever surfed under and stacked them all on top of the previous stack.

Now, suppose I took all of the hopes, dreams, blank canvases, open roads, cups of tea, bowls of veggies, climbable tree branches, late night conversations, epic surf sessions, family gatherings, multi-mile hikes, lost-in-the-middle-of-who-knows-where road trips, ripe mangoes, funny t-shirts, naps, breathless moments and ear-to-ear smiles that I have yet to experience; and stacked them on top of the previous stack.

What would I have?

I’d have something much, much bigger than me. I’d have the sum of many moments and not just the emotion of any single moment. I’d have a collection of magical moments that by shear weight alone smooshed the fear, uncertainty and doubt into a pancake at the bottom. Smoosh smoosh. Smoosh.

If I were to stare at this stack too closely, I might get lost in one piece of it and lose sight of what’s at the top; the stacked moments yet to come. They’re coming and they’re not concerned about the ones below them. **Whatever** they hold, I should look forward to them and not spend too much time dwelling on the moments stacked below. Like rings in a tree, they hold you up, but remain unchanged once they’ve happened.

Something bigger than me. Yeah. Much bigger.

This was all in a dream I had, so it might not make sense.