those kinds of friends.

Shame on me.

No really. I've been meaning to write this post for months now, almost 7 months to be exact. You see, this time I really do deserve a proper "shame on you" finger wagging from myself for this kind of thing. Because when big firsts happen in your life, one should write about them especially if one is already inclined to write about things (which I like to tell myself that I am one of those kinds of people). 

This first that I speak of actually happened to a friend of mine. One of my oldest and truest friends of all time. She's the one I played dress-up with for hours + hours + hours on end as well as all forms and versions of "house". She's one of those kinds of friends. One of those for-lifers. (You know the type.)

You better believe we scootered, imagined and make-believed our way right out of childhood, into teenaged trials and tribulation (actually we did manage to have quite a bit of fun along the way) and straight into adulthood as real-life grown ups.

And that brings me to the reason I'm writing today. Because last fall when my sweet and dear old friend had her very first not-make-believe-at-all baby boy, I was among one of the firsts to welcome this little man, in all his fresh and squeezable newness, into this world. Want a little peek at him?

I remember walking away from the hospital that day and the transition was so real I could taste it. From little girls to big kids. From little-squirt freshman to how-did-I-get-here seniors. From first-real-job to I-do-and-he-does-too. To pregnant bellies to welcoming in new life. Those kinds of transitions. Unspeakable, really.

It's a privilege. Yes, that's what it is. A complete privilege to journey with another through the transitions and curves of life. Wouldn't you agree?

This is my friend. 
Her name is Kathryne (and these are the men in her life). 
She's one of those kinds of friends. 
One of those for-lifers.

You know the type.

xoxo.

to my biggest fan.

as i sat down to
write in his card this morning
i realized
he really is quite good at
so many things.


like running tons of miles
over his lunch hour.
and biking all day
or at least 50 miles.


then there's motorcycles & sailboats.
his information about any and all
weather situations.
things like
cutting down trees & getting lost
in Costco aisles.
like when to follow maps & when
to find your own way. 


of course things like
seeing & listening.
investing wisely.
teaching truth.
making friends 
wherever he goes.
enjoying his every circumstance.

see?
so many things.


but there's one thing he's
really good at.
and what's funny is
he underwent absolutely zero training
for this endeavor.


and he actually seems to
be better at this one
than all the rest.


well, maybe i'm just biased.
(could be).


so Dad.
thanks for being the one
i call
dad.


want to know something?
i didn't choose you.
and quite honestly you didn't
exactly choose me either.


but Dad, here's the thing.
you've chosen me
each and everyday 
of my life.


and i know
beyond a shadow of a doubt
that you'll choose me
again tomorrow & the next day
and for as many days
as we have to come... 


and that.
that has made 
all the difference.


to my biggest fan.
(ps i'm yours too).


happy father's day.


xo,


n.

when the words go out

it's been a long while
since i've headed
to the library
with such intensity
and purpose.


when all around me
there are words
words words


and i discover that
i have nothing left to give 
you
you
or you.
or actually you either.
or myself.


it's then that i need to
jump in.
off deep.
swirl and twirl and turn and roll.
flip and glance, skim and read
again&again&again.


when all the words go out of me.
there is little to do except keep the 
fear away.
away.
away.


and search for connection.


yes.
to be with what is.


roaming the aisles
of books
like an impulsive buyer, while
making no commitments that
cannot be kept.

up and down each aisle i go.
car repairs to travel.
chinese to teen fiction. 
american history & the ancient wisdoms.


poets and their poems.
design and redecorating. 
a children's book to teach what 
really needs 
to be known.

an author, just grab all 4 of her books 
in order to hear how her voice 
might change and grow.

i just need them near.
these words that are not my own.
from room to room
i carry them.
sit them next to me while i work,
while i eat
while i call through the phone. 


friends i'll never know.
but their words they left behind.
they are not mine.
they're theirs.
except.
if the time is right
our words might grow together.

deep roots.
yet, new branches reaching
further than
either them or i can begin to
imagine.


and here they sit.
safe with me.
and me with them.
the words.
the words of another.
the words of others.

and so my mind can be calm.
can settle and rest.
just be.
just be.


my words will come again.
not today,
maybe not tomorrow.
but they'll be back.
because they never left really.
they were just resting.


resting in the work of another.


but for tonight.
i'll just flip and turn.
peak and skim.
over&over&over again.
slower this time then skip
to the next.


yes.
to be with what is.


and that's what to do
when the words go out of you.




- n.

enjoying the impractical.

cheers to summer.


did you feel it today?
were you in it?
were you all about it?
were you absorbed?


on days like these my 
{sometimes too serious}
soul
needs to be reminded
to do things.
just to do them.


somedays my
{often too serious}
soul
needs to be reminded
to be a bit less practical
and just
enjoy.


lucky for me.
i have friends who help
my soul
remember
to
play.


and enjoy
the impractical.


so instead of going out
to get some practical
food item like breakfast, 
lunch or dinner.
she & i went to get
(of all impractical things)
a sweet.


at this place...

yum indeed!

while i've had a few treats

from this fabulous

establishment over the years,

i'd never before set foot in

their cafe.

and boy oh boy have i been

missing out.

so

one fork-full at at time,

as summer surrounded us

this

{sometimes a little too serious}

soul

was gently reminded to

forget about all the things

she wasn't doing 

and instead

kick her feet up,

grab a fork

and just enjoy.

cheers.

to sweets.

to my friends who teach me.

to enjoying the impractical.

oh and 
dear summer... 
cheers to you.


- n.

wednesday specials

since beginning
this new year
wednesdays have become something very special.


i can't tell you
it's a "special wednesday."
because these wednesdays,
they keep coming.
after every 7 sleeps, actually.
that's why i should call it,
something like:


the wednesday specials.


i do many things
on my 
weekly wednesday specials.


things that might look like nothing
to many.
but it's something.
it is.


do you know how i know?


well, it's when that "special" happens.


the special of
...watching a 4 year-old discover how 
to count to $1 million.


the special of...learning new words
like "veteranarian" then deciding
right then and there
that you might want to be that.


the special of...
interruptions and calculations.


the special of...
thinking you know when
you don't. 


or maybe it's just the special of...
spinning the wheel.


and taking a LIFE tile.

see what i mean?

the wednesday specials.

- n.

another world.

shhhh.


can you hear it?
can you hear the
moving
shifting
coming
turning...?

in the coffee brewing.

in the snow melting drip by melodic drip.

in the sun finally showing himself.

in the lights of morning traffic.

in the rhythm of typing keys.

can't you?
can't you hear it?


in the spontaneous purchased flowers.
in the friend's honest answer.
in the shaky 'no' exercised today.
in your newest idea.
in the chance encounter.

yes. 
there it is now.
you can feel it.
you can.

in that moment with the radio.
in your boy's innocent question.
in the rhythm of typing keys.
in the brighten candle.
in the rise and fall of your breath.

another world.
it's brewing.
if you listen
{and you must listen}
we can hear her breathing . . .

 - n.

post inspired by one of my favorite novelist, Arundhati Roy.

necessary mornings.

some mornings there
is only one thing
that can 
possibly be done.


so when the
weather gauge
is lamenting the tale
of negative numbers.


when that long lost
white substance
is making it's 
fall to join us on earth.


one must take
the necessary steps
this sort of morning presents.


put on the kettle.
snuggle into your best scarf.
tuck the laptop under your arm.
and start the day

in bed. 

and don't forget
your cuppa 
tea.

little bit of everything

so the Dawes inspired me.

and i couldn't help it.

| it's a little bit of everything |
it's the sunshine | it's the breeze

| it's the stacks of reading |

| it's the hope for a friend |

| it's believing the words around me | 

| it's the trusting when i can't |

 | it's the little bit of everything |

- n.

just a moment with my radio.

It doesn't happen that often. Just sometimes. But when it does, there is something profound and sacred which makes me want to stop everything and just listen. Every other task becomes menial and the final destination seems to matter very little, if at all. A spell. Yes, that's what happens, a spell comes over me, just like in the fairytales. This of course, only confirms those great works of literature are obviously nonfiction.


You know this feeling? I'm sure you must, it's when a song. A song, not known to you makes its maden voyage into your hungry eardrums. The first encounter. When the musician and instruments and you are the only things in existence.


Yes, that moment.
Common on. We both know.
It's magic.

Today that moment happened with me, the Dawes, this song, and these words:

It’s a little bit of everything | It’s the mountains | It’s the fog | It’s the news at six o’clock | It’s the death of my first dog | It’s the angels up above me | It’s the song that they don’t sing | It’s a little bit of everything.

See?

A spell.

I told you, magic.

-  n. 

a birthday of the past

there was a year. 
one of the middle years of my college going.
that my world came apart. 
this was my first time.
perhaps that's why it hurt
so much.


the people i thought were "my people" 
suddenly weren't. 
and i was hurt beyond repair. 
i was loyal, yet was lied to. 
i pressed into hard places,
and i was left standing.


alone.


looming ahead of me and that shattered mess
was my birthday.


so when my mom called
and kindly inquired of me 
what i was planning to do with my friends
for my birthday


i hesitated. 


i couldn't lie to her. 


so instead
i sobbed. 


because those who i wanted
to celebrate with me, 
weren't even looking at me. 
wouldn't even stand
in the same room as me.


sometimes it's hard to know.
hard to know when it's the time.
the time to rescue.


and from what i've learned from
watching my own mother
as well as my friend's who wear the
"mom" tag,
it's a mother's hard work to know
when those times are,
but


not to worry.
she said.
stay right where you are.
i'm coming.


and that very night
she swooped in and enlisted
the ladies.


that night.
the ladies celebrated me.


they surrounded me.
they toasted me.
they ate with me.
they drank with me.
they laughed with me.
and they were oh so very merry with me.

they told me: 
this is who you are.
this is what your about.


they reflected back to me
what my bruised soul couldn't see.
they gently picked up
the pieces of me that had be trampled to the ground.


the ladies,
who illustrated ages
scattering upwards a few years from my own,
they defined for me that night
what birthdays are really all about.


to be seen.
to be seen.
sometimes a bit battered
and bruised.
but still resilient.




sometimes in those moments
you just know
that you are 
absolutely
positively
the luckiest person on earth.


cheers.


see?
even years later
i still drink to that.
and those ladies.


to this next trip around the sun
{i'll keep you posted},




- n.

midwest bound

last night
after days without
horizontal sleep,
countless delays,
hours of tarmac waiting,
enough dashing through

airports
to quench any marathon runner...


i had finally made it.
to the very 
last leg of my 
return 
home journey.


breathless and sweat-full
my terminal sprinting
ended as i deflated
in front of the final
gate.
chicago to minneapolis.


the airline worker
looked over her glasses at me,
pitifully.


"you missed it" she said.


"but isn't that the plane?"
i ask.

{some ultimatums
must be questioned.}

"and besides, it's 7:58 and the
plane doesn't take off for
another 6 minutes."


the airline worker's eyes
locked with mine.


{the starring over the glasses
was beginning
to get old.}


she agreed to check
if the gate was open.


it was.


i'd made it.


- - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - -
traveling.

such a gift.
the chance to leave what is
here.
and go.
just go.
to see and explore and wonder
and test and search and marvel.


there is nothing quite like it.
especially
when you know
precisely
what home is like.
what you've missed.
- - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - -


sneaking onto the aircraft
not a moment too late,
i approached cautiously.


the plane was
of course
full of eager travelers,
who had been on time.
who were waiting.
ready to get on with their journeys.



the situation had potential to be
intimidating.



the stares.
the glares.
because after all.
being THE ONE.
THE ONE
the late one.
the holding-up-the-plane one.
the your-tardiness-is-foiling-my-connection one.
never a good
position.


but.
intimidating and scornful
looks did not greet me.
only smiles,
nods of approval,
and congratulatory
last minute plane-catching
compliments
were doled my way
as i,
still short of breath,
found my way down the aisle.


and when seat 26A was
doubled booked
and i had no where to sit,
3 rows in all directions
of concerned travelers 
found another seat for me.
all before
a flight attendent even 
knew there was an issue.


the midwest
truly welcomed me home.


and while
even though it felt
like my time traveling was
too short
and it was hard to leave.
to say goodbye.


it's good to be back.


as for last night.
dear United 959 plane-mates,
thanks for the 
warm welcome.
home.




- n.


ps 
stay tuned for 
tales of the past weeks.
of meeting
christmas-ing
traveling
new years-ing
tappas-ing
and sunning.
with sister & parents
and a bunch of Oxford MBAs.