Moments

I've been thinking about what it means to be alive. Those moments when life feels vivid come to mind...

Dancing the final scene to Dirty Dancing in the dorms and then rewinding it and doing it again and again and again...We almost had it down.

Walking out of the theatre in Ashland and bumping shoulders with people who share my respect for and love of the theatre. 

The sound of my mom mourning the loss of our family unit as we knew it. I don't think I've heard such deep sobbing since.

Finding out that Stephanie and Mark lost Paul and feeling glad that Brandon and Jessica were there when I got the call but having no idea what to do next. We just stared at each other in shock. And then I went upstairs to research flights to Louisville. As vivid? Getting the call in a dressing room in Grass Valley that Hope was a healthy, beautiful baby.

The feeling in my stomach before our blind date. A blind date that, once again, turned up empty.

Looking up at the stars and breathing in the fresh air on the driveway of my mom's house after the long drive from Riverside.

Knowing that I disappointed her and feeling so foolish and embarrassed, and then wondering if our friendship would ever be the same.

Swinging on the swings with Jessica (Mitchell) in La Jolla and wondering if there's anything better than swings on the beach.

The mixture of hilarity and pure terror when the dog was trying to bite my calves as Amy and I tried to pedal for our lives.

The night I saw blurred headlights through my tears, while driving home from Hayward after dropping Jabbarri off at Child and Family Services--feeling like I just left part of my heart on that curb. I learned later that that was, indeed, what I did.

Standing, alone, in the dark of the night, with my arms crossed tightly, on the edge of the ocean, knowing God was there.

Kissing with abandon that felt so right.

Walking into my new home and wanting to scream with joy. My heart was giddy with excitement.

Warm evenings on the couch at Rox's with dear friends snuggled close by.

Reading Kimberly's blog and crying because I saw me through her eyes, and I liked the way she saw me much better than the way I saw myself.

The feeling of the breeze on my face at Sycamore Grove.

Laying my head on my desk and weeping that overwhelming Friday afternoon during my first year of teaching.

Laughing with Jessica in the car on the way back from Niles. Laughing doesn't seem to be a strong enough word to describe what was going on.

The night I took down the crib. I felt so dejected and empty.

Lying on the floor of my bedroom in my childhood home as a freshman in college, remembering all that occurred in that room, wondering if I would ever be in that room again. The answer was "no."

The look in my colleague's eyes as he told me what Obama's inauguration means to him. Sitting in awe and silence (rare for English teachers) in my classroom, on our prep period, as we watched our new president address the nation.

The sounds of walking in the country--crickets chirping and dirt under my boots.

I want more of those life-affirming moments. I like feeling alive even when life is painful, but I hope for more of those "wow" and "does it get any better than this?" moments. I'm thankful that I have had many, but I trust that there are many more to come, too. I will choose to live well because I don't want to miss those moments.