I think that had my darling husband realized that my innocent visit to South Carolina would lead to my renewed addictions to anime and sci-fi fiction and a severe reduction in his spare time, he might not have been so quick to agree to my little vacation. Then again, he has known me 9 years now, during which he's held my hand and rolled his eyes and tossed me a few verbal barbs about my various obsessions with Robert Downey, Jr., The Matrix, medieval literature, and Mexican culture. And those were just the ones that made the most sense to him. This trip was an adventure for me because it was the first time I have ever ridden on a train (except for the Metro in D.C., but I don't count that). Let's just say that I am now a walking Amtrak commercial. The ride was comfortable. The crew was a delight. The food was better than a school cafeteria. The price was unbeatable. I thoroughly enjoyed my time with my family, and I am still processing each moment as they become part of my ...

My mother and grandmother just left, and my house is back to it's typical quiet stillness, except for the occasional sound of dog nails sliding on the floor. I'm sad. This is the exact same feeling I'd get after each holiday or extended visit with my grandparents or cousins when I was a child. Even though I knew we'd see each other again, I'd sit in the back seat and cry most of the way home. That heart-in-a-vise-grip bawling that never seems like it will go away and makes you feel so silly when it finally does. And it does. Eventually. So here I am with way too much work to do and not one ounce of desire to do any of it. I'd much rather hop in the car and drive over to the beach where I could cry behind the cover of sunglasses and the pounding of the ocean waves. But life goes on, and my grandmother purposely cleaned my house so I could focus solely on the work she knows I have to do today. I wonder why it hurts so much, and yet I already know the answer. I gue...

My sister and I had a conversation last weekend that has haunted me all week. For one thing, just that fact that we had a conversation was a shocker. We haven't talked like this since February. Our interactions have been strained "how's the weather" discussions at two family weddings and a bridal shower. I suppose that's a story for another day, but suffice it to say that I've missed talking to her because as much as I hate to admit it sometimes, she knows pieces of me that no one else will ever understand. It must have something to do with our shared DNA. She said something about how much it bothers her that people cannot be happy for another person's good fortune. I listened to her for a while, and we eventually hung up, but I haven't been able to shake her words since then. All week, I've thought about times when I sat back and sulked when everyone around me seemed to be riding along on the great train of life. Yeah, it's hard to jump up and...

My cousin, Geoffrey , turned 21 today. I called him tonight to wish him a happy birthday and was thrilled to hear his voice. It was filled with life and a sense of awe. As he so aptly put it, "I'm sure Shakespeare has a word for how I feel right now, but I'm too lazy to look it up." I remember that feeling. I still feel it. We talked briefly about those moments in life where you look around and understand right there what a wonder it is to breathe. About an hour later, I found myself stopped on the road waiting for an accident to be cleared. As I watched the medical helicopter fly away, I mumbled, "Lord, please help them." When I was 18, my response to being stopped by an accident was, "Someone had better be dead since I had to wait all this time." Now I want to cry. I love how putting some time under your belt changes your perspective. I find these days that I say two prayers on an almost daily basis. The first is in the morning before I even stre...

Four years ago today I received a phone call from my cousin, Rachel, who sobbed into the phone, "Grandpa's dead." He had been sick for a few years, and we knew this day was inevitable, but it still sent shock waves through my soul. I'd love to tell the story of his funeral, and perhaps I will sometime this week, but for now I just want to share some of my memories of this remarkable man. He was a big man with a gruff voice that scared me when I was younger. I never wanted to make him angry for fear of what he would sound like. And yet, I can also still see him standing next to me in church singing worship songs in that baritone. I can also still hear his voice blessing Sunday and holiday dinners. The year before he died, we stayed up until the wee hours of the morning on the front p orch swing. He told me war stories about Navy ships and German torpedoes and how isolated and frightening the South Pacific is in the middle of the night. I also remember wondering that ni...