Tonight, just this: The Winter, Balmorhea

Life is one of those funny places where you only know that you’ve made the wrong decision once you’re fully committed.

There are moments during which you realize that you’re the one at fault. And those are the moments that shake you more than anything. It’s a panic that rushes through you. It rises and rises until you’re barely holding on to your conviction. You’re staring at wood paneling and you’re wondering what in the hell you’re doing.

And then you think, but I must be right; I’ve been right before? and the end of the thought trails upward until it reaches your ears and you realize you’re asking a question.

Have you been right before? Will you ever really know? Hindsight may start 20/20 but contemplation kills it. It destroys it. The moment – that singular moment – when you realize that there really are two sides to every story will ruin your life. It will change the way you view everything. There is no longer right, but equal (and entirely opposite) reasons for both “right” and “right,” because the wrong you thought existed was never real. That’s when uncertainly overtakes you.

You see so clearly. You see the future, suddenly, flashing before you. You see the past, much slower. It’s all there. And yet, you’re nagged by the what if? That is the feeling that draws men out to sea for six months at time, thrilled by the prospect of hitting it big; those are the feelings that draw cynics and believers alike. The marriage of chance and hope is a truly beautiful and rotten thing, all of it at once. There are moments of sheer wonder, the payoff, the jackpot, the joy. But those are the moments that punctuate the quickly familiar refrain of failure.

Being an optimist requires the ability to feel so deeply that you’re allowed to feel untempered joy at the cost of feeling unmitigated pain for seemingly unending periods of time. Being in search of the truth will lead you in circles. It’s a terrifying labyrinth of possibilities and yes, choice.

The more I live in this life, the more I realize that black and white cannot exist. It’s only just the many shades of gray, all defensible and all too real.

Guess who’s coming to work with me today?

Jacob!!

More info to come, but I’m positively thrilled. Beyond excited. Optimistic. Overjoyed. Eeeek!

I’d like to pretend that I’m an adult, but this gets me every single time. It’s my favorite license plate ever.

Maybe it’s because of who I dated through most of college, but I think the prospect of not knowing that your romantic Mrs. Hart license plate can also be read as Mr. Shart cracks me up.

If this doesn’t pull at your heart, you have no soul.

Normally, when I get email forwards, I freak out and rant about how annoyed I am that people are so narrow-minded, but this email made me cry.

I’ve been spending a lot of time lately thinking about how lucky we are to be alive and how lucky I am to be working toward a life that I love – and in doing that, I’ve been trying to spread as much positive energy as I can.

So here, from Aunt Sally (who rocks):

The
Cab Ride
I arrived at the address and honked the horn.
after waiting a few minutes
I walked to the
door and knocked.. ‘Just a minute’, answered a
frail, elderly voice. I could hear something
being dragged across the floor.

After
a long pause, the door opened. A small woman in
her 90’s stood before me. She was wearing a
print dress and a pillbox hat with a veil pinned
on it, like somebody out of a 1940’s
movie.

By her side was a small nylon
suitcase. The apartment looked as if no one had
lived in it for years. All the furniture was
covered with sheets.

There were no
clocks on the walls, no knickknacks or utensils
on the counters. In the corner was a cardboard
box filled with photos and
glassware..

‘Would you carry my bag
out to the car?’ she said. I took the suitcase
to the cab, then returned to assist the
woman.

She took my arm and we walked
slowly toward the curb.

She kept
thanking me for my kindness. ‘It’s nothing’, I
told her.. ‘I just try to treat my passengers
the way I would want my mother to be
treated.’

‘Oh, you’re such a good
boy, she said. When we got in the cab, she gave
me an address and then asked, ‘Could you drive
through downtown?’

‘It’s not the
shortest way,’ I answered
quickly..

‘Oh, I don’t mind,’ she
said. ‘I’m in no hurry. I’m on my way to a
hospice.

I looked in the rear-view
mirror. Her eyes were glistening. ‘I don’t have
any family left,’ she continued in a soft
voice.. ‘The doctor says I don’t have very
long.’ I quietly reached over and shut off the
meter.

‘What route would you like me
to take?’ I asked.

For the next two
hours, we drove through the city. She showed me
the building where she had once worked as an
elevator operator.

We drove through the
neighborhood where she and her husband had lived
when they were newlyweds She had me pull up in
front of a furniture warehouse that had once
been a ballroom where she had gone dancing as a
girl.

Sometimes she’d ask me to slow
in front of a particular building or corner and
would sit staring into the darkness, saying
nothing.

As the first hint of sun was
creasing the horizon, she suddenly said, ‘I’m
tired. Let’s go now’.

We drove in
silence to the address she had given me. It was
a low building, like a small convalescent home,
with a driveway that passed under a
portico.

Two orderlies came out to
the cab as soon as we pulled up. They were
solicitous and intent, watching her every move.
They must have been expecting her.

I
opened the trunk and took the small suitcase to
the door. The woman was already seated in a
wheelchair.

‘How much do I owe you?’
She asked, reaching into her
purse.

‘Nothing,’ I
said

‘You have to make a living,’ she
answered.

‘There are other
passengers,’ I responded.

Almost
without thinking, I bent and gave her a hug. She
held onto me tightly.

‘You gave an
old woman a little moment of joy,’ she
said
‘Thank you.’

I squeezed her
hand, and then walked into the dim morning
light… Behind me, a door shut. It was the sound
of the closing of a life…

I didn’t
pick up any more passengers that shift. I drove
aimlessly lost in thought. For the rest of that
day, I could hardly talk. What if that woman had
gotten an angry driver, or one who was impatient
to end his shift?
What
if I had refused to take the run, or had honked
once, then driven away?

On a quick
review, I don’t think that I have done anything
more important in my life.

We’re
conditioned to think that our lives revolve
around great moments.

But great
moments often catch us unaware-beautifully
wrapped in what others may consider a small
one.

Carlos just did the feline equivalent of wiping off a kiss. We were having a staring stand-off in which he was looking at me grumpily and I laughed and went to scratch his ears. He’s spent the past 30 seconds trying feverishly to scratch my scratch off of him. Oh I love that little beast.

I think Mike likes having him back at home. He said that he got home yesterday forgetting that the cat is back in residence but then got worried when he couldn’t find him in his room. (Carlos spends much of his alone time in Mike’s room. He likes his windows and all of the places to jump around.) So he looked for him and found him sleeping in his dark, quiet nook at the back of my closet. He also tried to get close enough to pet Carlos, but Carlos, as usual, was having none of it. I’m not sure if it’s because Mike teases him or if it’s because he’s so big, but Carlos has never quite taken to Mike. They were finally at the point where Carlos would hang out with Mike when I was gone, and would sleep at Mike’s feet if I was away and Mike was in charge of food. So here’s hoping that they’ll quickly find a new rhythm – I know how much Mike wants Carlos to love him. I also know how stubborn Carlos is (he takes after his mother), so we’ll see how this goes.

[Does anyone remember Lola the rabbit? A few years ago, Mike got a bunny rabbit named Lola. She was a snotty bit of rabbit – no, seriously – and she’d never let anyone else get close to her. But with Mike, she’d sit right on his chest or his shoulders for hours. It drove me nuts! I just wanted her to love me!]

Today, I’m off to find a teapot (Mike and I got into an argument at about 2:00 this morning about whether or not you can make tea in a coffeepot. I concede: you can. But that doesn’t mean I have to like it.), a vacuum that will be small and work on wood floors, and the second book from this trilogy that I’ve recently stumbled upon and fallen in love with.

Add this to the list of things that I cannot get enough of: