A Favorite Rewind

I lost my way long before a safe path was revealed. Once my footing became unsteady, I knew I'd never again crave the easy way. I'd prefer a little struggle... to get a little dirty... to learn my lessons in the most difficult fashion. I liked it rough. I enjoyed tasting the blood from my scraped knees and digging the gravel from my torn flesh. The pain made fluffy beds with white sheets, wine and air conditioning more flavorful. Without the struggle of life, ease is hard to swallow.

I gave myself to everyone who needed me. They could have any little piece... my thriving mind, my aching body, my anxious guts. They could kiss my blistered knuckles or sing me to sleep. I would feed the hungry souls of any others lost. At times, I forgot to feed my own.

Emptiness led way to an enthralling compulsion to unearth some sort of new existence. Emptiness created fire damaging enough to devour any prevalent distress. My emptiness forced movement. Once my bare feet began to carry me again, I managed to reach each obstacle that originally held me still.

This time, instead of losing myself to hours and days and years of immobility and fear, I hoisted myself up and allowed my soft skin to hit the ground on the other side. Sore, but accomplished. Bruised, but suddenly aware of inner strength. Exhausted, but fueled by ability.

Each intricate step forward, insignificant as they seem, grew inside of me a new creature. Keen, able, ravishing, absorbed. Completely ready to pave a new alley so those following behind might have one extra option. I would never dream of asking someone to use it, but it never hurts to offer.

Grapevine Fires

Grandpa Louis lost his long time battle with an assortment of ailments two Novembers ago at the age of 78. One month later, we welcomed the birth of my sweet little niece, Olivia Marie, who gave my family's spirit the strength to fight through the grief of our recent loss.

We have the most beautiful family plot in the 160-year-old City Cemetery, where we planned to bury Grandpa's cremains atop his mother and father's coffins once my grandfather's youngest son and his family could fly back from Pennsylvania to attend the burial service. So, Grandpa spent the last 17 months comfortably tucked in the china hutch in my mother's living room.

The lyrics that brought me to writing this post were those of Death Cab for Cutie's most recent single, Grapevine Fires. This song describes how beautiful it is to watch his whole world burn, literally, right before his eyes. The chorus that spoke to me heavily was this:

We bought some wine and some paper cups
Near your daughter's school and we picked her up
Then we drove to a cemetery on a hill, on a hill.

We watched the plumes paint the sky gray
While she laughed and danced through the field of graves
There I knew, we'd be alright
That everything would be alright

My mind immediately rushed back to the day last month that my family gathered at the grave site to bury my late grandfather. We stood huddled together under the glowing kisses of the warm, spring sun, laughing and weeping as we told silly and endearing stories of the man we loved.

I wiped a tear that fell from beneath my dark glasses, and looked up long enough to see that sweet, curly blonde-haired baby running and laughing and playing through the 100-year-old gravestones, completely oblivious to the world's hurt and pain. She's never looked so delicate and free.

I witnessed how lovely despair can be and how incredible the cycle of life can be. Brand new life dancing amongst the dead. One of the most remarkable things I've ever seen.

Happy Birthday, Tuna

It was my goal to publicly embarrass my wonderful fiance as many times as I could last night without actually pissing him off. And so, my goals were set in motion...

Bebe's 33rd birthday is this Monday, but because his work schedule is upside down and he'll be working, I chose to put together a big surprise dinner last night. I'm sad that he left his close friends and family on an island far, far away, so I always try to give him plenty of opportunity to resent having to spend time with grandmas and grandpas and aunts and uncles by sicking mine on him...

I chose a local Sacramento restaurant that's owned by a gentleman named Guy Fieri, a Food Network celebrity. Tex Wasabi: 'Rock-n-Roll Sushi BBQ'. Interesting to say the least. The atmosphere was more titillating than the food and the prices were a little outrageous, but they sure know how to deliver a mean Happy Birthday.

They brought him a little cup of ice cream with crumbled fortune cookies and whipped cream on top as they began the obnoxious birthday display. I videoed, of course.

Oh, and let's not neglect how cute it is that every time they sung Happy Birthday to someone in the restaurant, my niece thought they were singing directly to her. Did you think I wouldn't video that?

Happy Birthday, Tuna from Robyn Richardson on Vimeo.

And if my darling man thought that would be the end of the ridiculousness, we went to an authentic ice cream parlor for desert, which was filled to the absolute top with five-year-olds and grandparents. I have the video, but figured it would bore you... You're welcome.

All in all, it turned out to be a great night. By the end of it all, we had to roll ourselves to the car and lean the seats back a little. I'll have to work extra hard this week to undo the fabulous food that's been done.

A Bit Helpless

My poor, poor daddy made an ambulance trip to the hospital yesterday afternoon for shortage of breath and chest pains. Today he developed a sharp pain in his left side that they treated initially with morphine. When the extreme nausea and vomiting kicked in, they realized that the morphine was making him dizzy... which set off his vertigo... and triggered an extreme case of nausea. White blood cells are excessively low. Mild temperature.

Dad's girlfriend, Susan, called me first thing this morning to bring me up to speed. First thing that came into mind with details of 'chest pains', 'shortness of breath', and 'pains down the left side' was that he was having a heart attack. But the low white blood cell count and the mild temperature is conducive with infection.

Whatever it was, the fact that I was four hours away from the hospital that my father was unwell within the walls of made me feel pretty helpless.

He suffered of Colitis when I was young, which is a chronic digestive disease that affects the tissue that lines the gastrointestinal system. After being treated with Prednozone for some time, it seemed he was healed. Daddy neglected to inform me that he's been experiencing some issues again within the last year... which, apparently, has landed him in the hospital.

At least it wasn't a heart attack. Or cancer.

But, because he let himself get so sick this time, he's severely anemic. Which explains the low blood cells, fever, chest/body pains and shortness of breath. As I type, daddy is receiving the first of two blood transfusions to help with the oxygenation of his blood.

Tomorrow morning he'll receive an Upper TI and a Lower Endoscopy to determine why he's so sick. I'm glad that the doctors at least know what they think they're looking for. I don't feel quite so lost.

I spoke to him several times today, and each time he had to hang up because his dry heaving crippled him. I felt like he was broken. I can't have my daddy sick. He needs to be well... so he can live forever.

An Old Friend

I would have recognized that little nappy head anywhere... Those bleachy fried threads could only stem from the scalp of one particular damsel.

We caught each others eye as she passed by... and I immediately burst into a gut wrenching guffaw that nearly cramped my insides. And as little as I'd expected to see that pimply face ever again, I'm sure her shock was evermore generous.

Mira. Miller.

One year my junior. And one year older than my sister. That one year difference gave her the impression she could use my baby sister as a target during her first year of high school. That wasn't the wisest decision my darling Mira could have made.

I was a bit of a dick in high school. I never got into any physical altercations because my smart mouth got me out of most sticky situations. If I told you I was going to whoop your ass... you believed it... for no good reason. But I used the power to my advantage. I never had to fight - but I was feared.

Little wonder I had a small group of friends, looking back.

Now I didn't pick on just anyone. I didn't target anyone who hadn't given me a reason. In my high school mind, bullying my little sister was plenty reason.

So, I terrorized the poor girl. Terrorized her for almost all of her sophomore year... until she finally left the school. I wish I could remember more about what I did to her. It must have been magic to force someone into such fear without ever laying a physical hand on them. True talent.

Once I graduated, she felt safe enough to return to the high school to graduate herself. And from what I understand, she had nothing to say to my sister from that point forward.

Mission accomplished.

Ironically, she's just been hired on with the same company I work for. She was in my office accepting the position when I saw her. Co-workers. :)