January 3: shotgun

January 2: stomach bug

January 1: the best of 2016

The Ghost of Christmas Yet to Come

The phone rang last Thursday night. I didn’t recognize the number so I didn’t answer. A woman began to leave a message. I couldn’t tell what she was saying, but then I heard the words “Nancy” and “Ambulance.” My mom passed out at Zumba class and was vomiting. When I arrived, the paramedics had her on a stretcher and were preparing to take her to the hospital.

My dad took the keys to her car and drove to the hospital. I sat in my car...and then it hit me...I was alone. Usually, an event like this would be followed up with a call to my brother. We would talk about our parents and their health. He never felt good about living so far away from them, but took comfort in the fact that I was here.

This is the first Christmas without Matt. Something tells me that every Christmas from now on will not be the same. It’s something that I can’t explain. It’s something you would not understand unless you’ve lost someone this way. It’s something I hope you don’t ever have to experience.

I was too busy listening...

Last week I had dinner with a friend. At one point during our conversation she expressed her frustration with a coworker. The woman has a tendency to offer quotes to her students. It isn’t the idea that the woman shares these words that annoys my friend, it is that she has not lived them.  
 

I was too busy listening to reply. It seemed like that was what you needed at the time. Now, I have had some time to think about it. 

Maybe those words resonate with your coworker, not because she has lived them, but because they are what she strives to become. 
 

"The biggest communication problem is we do not listen to understand. We listen to reply." - Stephen R. Covey

we are family

Thelma is one on my clients. I use the term “client” loosely because she is eighty years old and on a fixed income. Twice a week she will hop in on someone’s session. On Monday she came to the gym and put her jacket in a locker (unlocked). When she got home she discovered that her driver’s license and money were missing from the jacket. It could have been stolen, but it just as easily could have fallen out of her pocket somewhere. That is not the point. 

The incident was brought to my attention on Tuesday morning. My first reaction was to reach out to all of my clients. If we each chipped in $5 we could give Thelma a gift card to ShopRite, which is where she intended on spending the money that day. The response was overwhelming. I have collected double the amount that she lost. 

For the past two months, I have struggled greatly with the concept of family. On Tuesday, the way in which I define that word became abundantly clear.

flashes of something...

My long term memory has always been poor. Occasionally I'll recall random things without prompting. 

Today, The Hazelnator and I were on our afternoon walk and I remembered that I had an unused tampon collection in my high school gym locker. Not only did I have this collection, I also had taken a picture of it and had wallet size copies produced for my friends. Thankfully, I was able to find the photo to share. 

There will never be a need to defend the degree of awkwardness I possessed in high school.