Archives for July 2012

I’m not sure what I believe in. I’m not sure what I believe, but I believe in signs. I believe sometimes the universe tells you things and it’s your job to figure out just what the universe is trying to say. This is hard, because you know, the universe doesn’t exactly enunciate or… speak. The universe, at best can be described as using some funked-up cosmic form of semaphore or smoke signals. Interpreting the universe requires a bit of thought, more than most people like to do.

Okay, fine, more than I sometimes like to do.

Like sometimes when I have my iPod on shuffle and certain songs come up over and over again, and I think to myself, Steve Jobs? What message are you sending me from the beyond? What should I be taking away from the fact that I’ve heard this song by The Civil Wars four times in the past twenty songs and it’s only on my iPod twice? Hmmm…

Coincidence? Oh, most likely. But sometimes it feels like a message from the universe and when the universe talks, it’s worth a listen.

***

I had dropped my daughters off with my mom this afternoon so I could grocery shop. I was driving north on a two lane road. I was going the speed limit, or possibly slightly under (I’m an annoying driver, I admit it) and I was approaching an intersection.

Running north-south, the intersection has a blinking yellow light. East-west, a blinking red.

As I approached my blinking yellow, a burgundy car was stopped, but as I got nearer to the intersection – the intersection that did not require I stop – the car began to proceed through, heading east.

In an instant my foot flew from the gas pedal to the brake and I slammed hard, but I quickly saw that even with immediate braking, I was still going to hit that car. I would plow right into the passenger side of the vehicle at about 45 – 50 miles per hour.

My brain flashed again and I swerved to the left to swing my car around behind the burgundy vehicle to get around it.

I narrowly missed colliding with any part of the burgundy car. The driver of the vehicle continued to head east, and I pulled over as soon as it was safe and put my hands to my face and sobbed. I kept thinking the driver would turn around, come back, say sorry, but nothing. I turned the radio off, and cried into my hands until the tears were gone and I felt like I could drive again.

Had my brakes not worked at all, we would have definitely collided.

Had there been a car oncoming in the south bound lane, I’d likely have been in a head-on collision when I swerved.

Had the girls not been with my mom, surely they’d have been terrified, even if nothing had happened.

And maybe the biggest consequence would only have been a smushed car, but things easily could have turned out differently this afternoon.

**

So what is the universe trying to tell me?

I’m not entirely sure. I feel pretty lucky today, though. And in the massive sea of things that don’t feel right to me right now, in the chaos of change and adjusting where I’ve had days where I’ve felt ANYTHING but lucky, you know what? I’m still here.

I’m here and every day is mine and even the bad days are mine and I can do the best I can with each one of them.

And maybe the Universe just wanted to remind me that some people are awful drivers, or that not everyone looks before proceeding through an intersection, or maybe I should be wary of those driving burgundy cars. I don’t know. What I’m taking from it, though, is that I’m still here. Despite the yuck. I have all this opportunity with every day I have to appreciate it, even if only a little bit.

Perhaps I’m reading a bit too much into it, but then again, that’s what near misses are for.

Dear Pumpkin,

Much like your entrance to the world seven years ago, you still barrel into each day like you’re in a hurry. You begin each day quite early – that has yet to change! – and your face is one of my favorites in the morning because you greet the day with peace, smiles and you welcome it, the new day, with joy and with eagerness to get started (preferably with a cup of chocolate milk and a bendy straw).

You finished first grade this year and soon you’ll start second. You’re ready. You took the world by storm this year, mastering reading skills – so much that like your sister, you’re above your grade level. But rather than read, you mostly like to write. You create these stories, scrawled on blank sheets of paper and illustrated in marker. Your stories of animals and Hawaii and doughnuts. I get amazed at your creativity – and I love that about you.

The other day I asked you where all the time went, how you got to be so old already. Your reply was, “I don’t know. I’m not Google.” You are hilarious, and you are finally getting the nuances of humor and puns and telling jokes. It’s not that I didn’t love your made up jokes – but as you get older, your jokes get funnier. You get funnier. You love to make people smile and you love a new audience and you are charming and charismatic and you are an entertainer.

You still love animals – still really love dogs. Your latest thing is that you have cleaned your room super clean because you want the dog to come sleep in your room. You would be so happy if he would curl up in your bed and sleep next to you at night – but he won’t do it and I’m sorry he doesn’t because your room is the cleanest it’s been in a long time.

You make these lists for me, songs you want me to download and burn to CDs so you can dance around to them. You’re pretty partial to top 40 and you said last week that you really like “THE Maroon 5” (the THE about it is what cracked me up). This summer you really liked Train’s “Drive By” and I love it when I’m driving and I look back in the rear view and I see your face and you are singing unabashedly and I envy your carefree nature. You are a free-spirit – you really don’t seem to care too much about what other people think and my god, I hope you don’t lose that because it’s pretty amazing.

You are so loving. And maybe, just maybe, I say that every year, but you are the first person to sense when I need a hug and you often give them freely. I sure do love when you wrap your arms around my neck and squeeze me into a hug. When you were younger, when I would kiss your cheek, you would hold your hand over the spot where I kissed you to “hold the kiss in” and occasionally you still do that and it melts me these things you do that you have hung on to over the years. You are affectionate and lovely (however, you don’t always love having your picture taken, as seen above in that picture! Sorry, kiddo!).

When I drop you off at school, I stand on the sidewalk and watch you walk in and marvel at your self assurance and how OLD you are and you turn around and look at me and raise your hand in the ASL sign for I love you before turning around to continue to walk back in. Once you enter the building, I always get back in my car and catch my breath and smile at the very thought of you.

This year brought us your fascination with SkippyJon Jones (holy frijoles!), your first time spending the night at a friend’s house, your first time inviting a friend to sleep over, you deciding you want to try gymnastics lessons like your sister (you seem iffy so far, but you’re getting better already). You often ask if you can go see if your friends can “hang out” and you sound so old.

You are old.

Today you’re seven.

Not sure how I got so lucky, but I am so very lucky to be your mom.

I love you with my whole heart.

Love,

Mom