My Real Life

In January, I posted my 15 goals for 2015.

I probably should have taken a look at my list in June, when we were actually halfway through the year, and then used the summer to take care of some of the things on the list, but I didn’t, so I’m taking a look today.

Let’s see if I actually accomplished anything, so far, in 2015.

1. Take the family to DisneyWorld. No time, no money, no way. Didn’t happen.
2. Participate in at least one random act of kindness per week.  I believe that I have followed through on this one. I probably got too wrapped up in my own stuff every now and then, but it’s always been a priority to me to be good to others, and so I think I can say with some certainty that I most likely achieved this goal.
3. Exercise at least twice a week.  Yes! Success! I have definitely exercised at least twice a week, so far this year.  Some weeks, it may have only been twice, but others it was more. So, now I’m feeling a little better.
4. Watch less tv.  I think I did this. The dvr is full of a lot more stuff that the kids have recorded than things that I have recorded, and there are quite a few shows I’ve let go. So, yes, I’m watching less tv. Hey, three in a row! I’m doing great!
5. Make $1,000 by selling on eBay, consignment, etc.  Talked too soon. I’ve made $10 this year.  Only $990 to go! 🙂
6. Blog at least once a month.  So, I did this for a few months, then I didn’t for a few, and now I’m back and committed to finishing out the year strong.
7. Read 50 books (and keep track!)  I’m at 56 right now, so YES, I have done this! School starts in two weeks, so I don’t know if I’ll make it 100, but I’m shooting for a new goal of 75.
8. Really go through my closet and be ruthless with getting rid of what I don’t wear.  I’ve donated seven bags of clothes to the Salvation Army and I feel great about it. I still have some more to go, but it’s a good start!
9. Play piano at least once a week. I didn’t start this until this month, so as a yearly goal, not so much.
10. Write in my journal more often.   Didn’t happen. Wrote at the beach last week, but that was the first time in years.
11. Get published, again.  Workin’ on it.
12. Re-edit my novel.  Haven’t even picked it up. Two weeks left in the summer…probably won’t.
13. Shred and pare down all of our files. Actually hoping to do it next week. Wish me luck!
14. Entertain more.  Um, no. Haven’t entertained at all.
15. Be kinder to myself.  I’ve read over 50 books, I’ve gained 10 pounds, I’m smiling more. I think I’m being kinder to myself. And I think I’m good with that.

Every summer, we take a week to go away with my parents and a week to go away with my extended in-law family.

The weeks with my parents are just the six of us and my parents.

The weeks with my in-laws are a bit more chaotic, with 20+ of us descending on the beach each day.

This year, half of my in-laws decided that they were going to take a two week road trip together, out west, and so another full week off for them wasn’t a possibility.

Instead, it was decided that we would be visiting a dude ranch for three days and two nights.

What?

A dude ranch?

My initial reaction was less than thrilled, as I wasn’t exactly sure what on Earth I was going to be able to do with a 4 year old to keep him entertained on a dude ranch, but I wanted to be with the family and I knew the kids wanted to be with their cousins, so we were in.

Turns out…it was great.

We went to the Pinegrove Ranch in Kerhonkson, NY.

Think Kellerman’s, from “Dirty Dancing.”

Just, less clean and less 1950’s.

It was a blast.

The big kids were pretty much on their own for the entire time, with plenty to do to keep them busy.

Tiny and I went to the pool, to the petting zoo, to the bounce pillow, to the snack bar, to the playground, and round and round we went.

For the adults and big kids there was a pool, archery, horseback riding, tennis, shuffleboard, family dodge ball, bocce, horseshoes, etc.

I have always wanted to try archery.

It’s one of those things that I’ve always imagined I would be really, really good at, even though I’ve never done it.

You know those fantasies.

Turns out, although my visions of greatness at some things are not accurate, I’m a pretty darn good archer.

I think I totally could have taken Katniss in the Hunger Games.

The horseback riding was an extra fee, but well worth the money.

They have a beginners route and an intermediate route.

We chose the beginners route.

I’ve been riding before, and have loved it, but it was many, many years ago, so I will admit to being a little bit nervous.

Once we got started, however, it all came back to me, and there were points on the trail through the woods, when I would see an open field through the trees and imagine just giving the horse a little nudge, pulling those reins to the side, and taking off into the wildnerness, as fast as my horse could go.

Then I remembered that I had the old horse who actually slipped and fell on his butt in the mud, twice, while I was on his back.

So, I didn’t leave the trail.

But, man, was that some amazing scenery.

And the kids loved it.

My horse and I rode behind two of my nieces and their horses and listening to their chatter, I am assured that it was an unforgettable experience for all of us.

For the whole family, on one night, there was a magician comic and the next night we saw the juggling comic.

One of my sisters-in-law was called up on stage while the juggler juggled a machete over her body, while she lay on the floor.

Of course, afterwards, she admitted that she wasn’t as scared of the machete flying over her face, but the filthy blanket that he had her lay on might give her a few nightmares.

The jokes were corny, both nights, but you kinda didn’t mind.

We were busy every second and had a great time.

Sometimes, the unexpected is pretty darn good.

I’ve written, frequently, about my love for music.

It’s playing in our home, in our cars, in our ears, all the time.

It’s just a way of life for us.

Along with this goes conversations about music.

Why one song sticks in your head, and another you can hear once and never think of again.

Sometimes, the answer is “I like the message it sends.”

Sometimes, it’s “Because I can dance to it.”

Sometimes, it’s “It reminds me of a time in my life when…”

And sometimes, I don’t know…

Until I do.

Recently, one of the monkeys asked me, “What is it about this song that you like so much?”

Without thinking, I responded, “Because it reminds me of “Whiter Shade of Pale,” which is one of my top 5 songs ever.

Here’s the song, and if you don’t want to hear the whole thing (although it’s a great song) move to 2:10 and listen:

Then, listen to “Whiter Shade of Pale” by Procol Harum. Right from the beginning.

Hear it?

I know it’s the whole electric organ thing, but it takes me there every time I hear it.

Kinda like “Uptown Funk” brings me right to “Get Your Head in the Game” from High School Musical.

Don’t believe me?

Go to 1:29 and listen:

And then go to 1:20 and listen:

That one may not be as defined, but it still takes me there.

I mean, it’s not as scandalous as the whole Vanilla Ice stealing David Bowie’s “Under Pressure,” but then, what is?

Today, I’d love for you to go back and read about some completely wrong lyrics I thought I knew, and hear what some of my readers had to say in an old post, which you can find here: WrongLyrics Contest.

However, I feel like I would be cheating in my 21 day blogging challenge, so I’ll tell you a little story that reminded me about that post, to begin with.

We were in the car the other day and “I Wear My Sunglasses at Night” came on and as I sang along, at the top of my lungs, Real Man looked at me and said “What song are you singing? Those words don’t even make sense!”

“I know,” I replied. “He must have been on crack when he wrote this song.”

Of course, when we got home, I immediately looked up the words, and I wasn’t even just sorta wrong.

My lyrics were WAY off.

But, I like ’em.

Listen to the song and read my lyrics. I think you’ll agree, they are not so bad.

I wear my sunglasses at night

So I can, So I can

Watch you weave and breathe to story land.

I wear my sunglasses at night

So I can, so I can

Keep track of visions in my eyes.

While, she’s deceiving me.

She cuts my security, and

She got control of me,

I turn to her and say.

Don’t push the play on the sky and share the war

Don’t masquerade with the sky and share the war

I can’t believe it

You got it made with the sky and share the war.

I wear my sunglasses at night

So I can, So I can

Forget my name while you collect your fee.

I wear my sunglasses at night

So I can, So I can

See the love that’s right before my eyes.

While, she’s deceiving me.

She cuts my security, and

She got control of me,

I turn to her and say.

Don’t push the play on the sky and share the war

Don’t masquerade with the sky and share the war

I can’t believe it

Don’t be afraid of the sky and share the war.

Cuz you’ve got it made with the sky and share the war.

I wear my sunglasses at night

______________

You can look up the real lyrics, but I think mine are better.

I mean, it’s a song from the 80’s.

Everything was about the Cold War.

Corey Hart just wanted us to share it.

With the sky.

Apparently.

Now, go read the old post, and come back and tell me about some of your misheard lyrics in the comments below.

I bet you, like me, are a way better songwriter than any of these so-called “musicians.”

We hit the beach for a week with my parents this week and it was so much fun.

Here are a few scenes from our week:

The movie, Still Alice chronicles a relatively young woman and her descent into Alzheimer’s disease.

I haven’t seen it, as watching my Grandfather battle the disease was hard enough.

I don’t want to watch someone else go through it.

So, I title this post, with a bit of tongue in cheek, a bit of humor, but a bit of real fear, as well.

I know my father worries that he will develop the disease, as his father did.

But, I worry, too.

And not just because I seem to have inherited every health issue trait that my parents had to share with me (diabetes, asthma, migraines, legal blindness in one eye) but because I’m forgetful.

I don’t mean, like, run-of-the-mill, “Oh, I lost my keys” forgetful, although I do lose mine at least once a day.

I mean, like, I used to be the collective memory of Kim, Erin, Michaela, and I, able to recall things that had long ago fallen out of their brains, and now I find myself struggling to find words and saying things like “You know…the thing you use to roll around on the carpet to pick up crap,” when I can’t remember the word “vacuum.”

I thought about writing this blog post about four months ago.

I never got around to it.

Wanna guess why?

I forgot.

I actually started a little notebook where I was writing down the things I forgot.

Here’s how far I got:

Day One:

• thought I forgot my keys in Kim’s apartment in the city…checked my bag three times, because I kept forgetting that I had already checked.
• left my portable charger plugged into the wall at Kim’s apartment, despite saying aloud “Don’t forget the portable charger” four times.
• why I walked into the family room at home (this one happens multiple times a day)
• my credit card number, which I have had memorized for twelve years…I went to type it into a website for payment and drew a complete blank

Day Two:

• why I had opened up a blank email screen – couldn’t remember who I was going to email or why
• to change the laundry from the washer to the dryer, despite the fact that if I didn’t dry those clothes, I’d have nothing to wear
• to close the garage door
• that I had already eaten dinner

Day Three:

• how to get home from our doctor’s office…the office she has had for the past ten years
• to buy sunblock, despite that fact that is the reason I went to the store

On the list, each of those days, I could have written “To write what I’ve forgotten in this notebook” because I had many more things that I forgot to write down.

And then, I eventually just forgot the notebook.

And this post.

People tell me it’s just a normal side-effect of aging.

That it’s because I’ve got so much freaking nonsense in my brain at any given time, it takes the neurons a little longer to fire and get to where they need to be to retrieve the info I need at that exact moment.

That it’s “Mom-Brain.”

And maybe they are right.

But when Monkey Boy runs in the house and says “I found it!” with my Dad’s cell phone in hand, for which we have been searching for over an hour, with me actually calling three different stores to see if anyone found it,  because I completely forgot that I had tucked it into the back pocket of the passenger car seat so we didn’t have to take it into the store with us, it feels a little scary.

We were at the beach, on vacation, and as it happens every year, there was a rainy day, and we took the kids to the movies.

Well, some of the kids.

Monkey in the Middle and Tiny didn’t want to come, so we just took numbers 1 and 3.

There were some amazing previews, and Baby Monkey kept saying “Ugh, when will it start? I just LOVE the Fantastic Four!”

And then it started and he was literally shaking with excitement.

When it was over, he said “That was the best movie I’ve ever seen.”

For me…

Eh.

I mean, it’s a movie, and what’s not to love about a movie, but it didn’t wow me.

In fact, I didn’t like it as much as I liked the one that they made a few years ago.

I didn’t feel like the characters were as likable or as sympathetic.

Good action, sure, and Dr. Doom was pretty cool, but overall, not so great.

Maybe it’s also because I really wanted to see “Pixels” and got outvoted.

But that would mean that I’m petty and bitter and we all know that’s not true.

Right?

Like Baby Monkey, I am a huge fan of the super hero genre, and there aren’t many movies in the genre that I don’t like.

Heck…I even enjoyed “Daredevil.”

But this one…

You know how, sometimes, you have an author, and he/she is a great author, and you love his/her books.

But then they become a little too prolific, and you find the latest books to be not as good as the earlier ones, and you realize it’s because they are just writing books for money and not for the story any more?

Yeah, this was like that.

I mean, who remakes a movie that just came out 10 years ago?

So, to sum it up, save your money, because, while the special effects are cool, the movie, overall, is a bore.

When I was a teenager, the youth group at my church traveled for one week, each summer, on a “mission trip.”

We would go to an impoverished area of the country and build homes, fix fences, serve meals, and do whatever needed to be done.

It was always an amazing experience, and along the way, we worked with youth from other churches around the country, some of whom we are all still in contact with, today.

Monkey Girl is now in that same youth group, and this summer, they were heading to Niagara Falls for their mission trip.

Coincidentally, Niagara Falls is the first mission trip that I went on as a teenager.

About a month or so ago, the youth leader sent out an email stating that one of their chaperones had backed out at the last minute and they needed someone to fill in.

Now, while I’m not the strongest in the religion department, my main goal in life is to help others as much as I possibly can, so after making sure Monkey Girl would be on board and that Real Man had no issues with me leaving him and the boys for a week, I signed up.

I’m sure when I say “Niagara Falls” the description “an impoverished part of the country” isn’t exactly what comes to mind.

However, the Niagara Falls of our imaginations and the Niagara Falls of daily life are two very different places.

The trip was coordinated through YouthWorks, which is an organization that finds areas that are in need, and then spends the summer coordinating church youth groups to come together and work within those communities.

The leaders of the Niagara Falls YouthWorks group, Miss K, Blake, Mia, Rachel, and Ryan were wonderful at placing each group (there were about four other church groups from around the country there at the same time we were) with members of the community who needed their help, and being a liaison between the community and the youth.

The entire trip was wonderful.

I was able to build relationships with some pretty amazing youth, and we had a fun time together as we took care of the community.

My group was tasked with three different assignments.

The first was at the Niagara Falls Meals on Wheels.

The Niagara Falls branch of Meals on Wheels is run out of a church, and while Lori, the coordinator is paid for her time, the cooks, the packers, the deliverers…are all volunteers.

While we didn’t cook the food, we made sandwiches, buttered bread, packaged food, and did a few deliveries.

It is amazing how efficient these women are, and how the whole operation runs like clockwork.

There were approximately 65 people that were receiving meals the week that we were there, and the coordinator has to be on top of who is in the hospital, who is out of town, who has what dietary needs, etc.

If one of our youth had a question about what a marking on a paper was, the volunteers were able to pull the information right out of their heads.

“Oh, Betty? She’s low sodium, no milk, only juice, only wheat bread.”

It costs a lot of money to run Meals on Wheels, and it is all done through donations.

It is more than just the purchasing of food, as well.

They need to pay bills, they need to purchase supplies, etc.

Our youth got to interact with some of the recipients, as they made deliveries, and all reported not realizing how hard it must be to rely on others for your meals, and how often, that would be the only human interaction these people would get all day.

It was a very humbling experience.

Our second assignment was serving food at The Magdalene Project.

Our youth worked as servers, waiters, and clean-up crew as they served a hot lunch to approximately 100 walk-ins.

While half of the youth prepared the meals, the other half and I drove to a hospital to take delivery of 15 mattresses they were donating to the project.

We drove them back to the church, and then carried them up a few flights of stairs to be stored in the attic until they were able to be put to use.

We also unloaded a garage full of bags of clothing donations and organized them for the church.

We had a great time serving the food, alongside the other volunteers, pretending we worked in a restaurant, making up names for the meals.

For example, if someone wanted an adult plate with everything, we called it a “biggie.”

If they didn’t want the string beans, we’d call for a “biggie – no strings attached.”

No thank you on the rice?

“Biggie with a Chinese detour.”

Five kiddie plates?

A “playground.”

We served with smiles, but again, the conversations in the cars focused on how does this happen in a town where so many people around the world come to visit?

One of the statistics we learned was that 20-30% of the houses in Niagara Falls are abandoned.

What was once a booming tourist town became a town where industry vacated in the 90’s, but the people stayed.

As kids grew up, they left town to search for something better, leaving their parents behind.

People who were middle aged when the businesses left lost their jobs, and then their homes, accounting for the abandoned houses.

The elderly whose children had moved far away were the Meals on Wheels recipients.

And the people who had lost their homes?

Where did they go?

Niagara Falls has terrifying winters, and the number of homeless people in a town that had more feet of snowfall than ever before, last year, is horrifying to consider.

Which brings us to our third assignment.

One of the abandoned buildings in town was a YMCA.

The YMCA association sold the building to the Niagara Gospel Rescue Mission for $1, and they are working hard to turn it into a homeless shelter.

Again, working through donations and volunteer labor.

Our task was to clean out some of the rooms in order to begin to prepare them to become living spaces.

Our kids scrubbed, swept, mopped, scraped, and worked up a sweat as they began the work of converting the abandoned space into one that would be welcoming and safe for those in need.

The youth really seemed to get it…that this would become someone’s home…a small room to us, but the entire world for someone who was, that night, sleeping on the street, and they put their all into the process.

Throughout the entire trip, the thing that stuck with me the most was the fact that all of the volunteers were people who, themselves, did not have much, and that it was the people with little who were giving all they had to the people with nothing.

We weren’t working with wealthy people.

These were people who were working other jobs, scraping together to make their own ends meet, but they saw that there were others out there who were struggling more than they were, and they were determined to make life better for these people.

I want to carry that with me and remember, always, that what I have is nothing if I can’t share it with those in need.

So, I share all of this with you, today, for a few reasons.

One, of course, is to share my experience.

The other, though, is to ask for your help.

If you have the desire and the means, pick one of these places, and help.

Send money.

Send supplies.

Send whatever you can.

Because people are in need, and who are we if we don’t reach out to those who need us?

YouthWorks

Niagara Gospel Rescue Mission

The Magdalene Project

Niagara Falls Meals on Wheels at St. Paul’s Lutheran Church

Main Contact: Lori Gantt

1920 18th Street Niagara Falls, NY 14303

Oh, my friends…

It’s been so long.

I have so many reasons why I’ve fallen out of the blogosphere.

One could be the job that I’ve had for the past two years.

Moving into administration at school completely ate up any and all free time that I had.

It also ate up quite a bit of my creativity, if I’m honest.

Another could be that, last year, Monkey Boy spilled orange juice on my MacBook.

While, amazingly, it continues to work fine, the keyboard functions without the use of the “l” and “.” keys.

I tend to use those keys a lot.

As do we all.

So, I have this external keyboard that we got for free, years ago, but the truth is, I like typing directly on my MacBook better.

This external keyboard leaves me…uninspired.

I don’t like the way it feels or sounds when I type.

It distracts me from my thoughts.

Does that sound like an excuse?

It does to me.

But, it’s true.

I have others, but when I have said them, out loud, over the past year or so, they may have given reason to my absence, but they haven’t filled the hole inside where writing used to live.

And so…

I’m back.

For real.

The problem is, I need to make sure that I stay back.

That I don’t let excuses get in the way, again.

So, my solution is this:

I read that it takes 21 days to form a habit.

This blog, this…mental space…used to be my number one habit, and I need to re-inspire myself and reform that habit.

So, for the next 21 days, I’m posting.

I can’t say that they will all be interesting.

But it will be something.

And, my hope is, that by the end of the 21 days, I’ll be back.

For good.

This coming year is bringing a lot of change in many ways, and there are a lot of things that I hope to work on.

Getting back to me…the real me…is one of them.

Selling a bunch of our crap and getting the keyboard on the MacBook fixed is another one, but that’s a garage sale for another day.

So, let’s consider this as day one, and I hope that you’ll come along for the ride.

I’m a fan of horror movies.

A big fan.

My quest, each year, is to find the scariest movie of the year.

I love to get goosebumps and be so scared I feel the need to hide my eyes or grab on to Real Man’s arm or let out a shriek.

I love being scared.

I always have loved being scared, and I’ve also always loved scaring others.

When I was a kid, my friends and I would sit in my closet with a Oujia board and try to scare the bejesus out of each other.

I watched Poltergeist again and again and again, despite the fact that every time I watched, it further solidified my eternal fear of clowns and dolls.

In college, one night, after watching “It,” my roommate, DeeDee, snuck into the bathroom, where I was showering (in the large communal shower…don’t ask…it was not the best way to make freshman feel comfortable), turned off the lights, and started throwing things at me in the dark, ala the “It” shower scene.

I was terrified, but still, had a good laugh, because I enjoy being terrified.

Cuz I’m weird like that.

——-

There have been other things that have happened that are more real, which makes them even stranger, in my life.

When I was 13, I was sound asleep in my bed, one night.

I wasn’t in the throes of a nightmare or anything like that, but I woke up, sat straight up in bed and began to sob like my heart was broken.

I honestly had never cried like that and couldn’t get control of myself.

About 30 seconds later, the phone rang.

It was my Grandfather calling from Ohio to tell us that my Grandmother, my best friend, my favorite person in the world, had passed away.

Every now and then, I’ll catch a whiff of my other Grandmother’s perfume in the air.

Except, I’m usually home when it happens and there’s no perfume in my house.

——-

So, I have a history with the strange and I’ve enjoyed it thoroughly.

Going back to movies, the things that have always scared me the most are the things that could really happen (dolls coming to life and scary clowns aside) and things that build up with a slow burn and leave you in suspense.

Gore isn’t scary to me.

It’s just gross.

But, build up that tension, or show me a scenario that could actually happen?

I’m in.

The original “Halloween?”

Suspenseful like crazy.

“The Strangers?”

There are crazy people out there, folks, and I believe that there are some who would absolutely do those things.

“The Ring?”

Would never happen, but the slow movements, the camera shots, the slow burn as you are figuring it all out, and that girl making her slow, jerky way out of that tv?

Probably the scariest thing I’ve ever seen.

——-

However, this post isn’t about scary movies.

It’s about scary life.

Or, at least, strange life.

Real Man and I moved into our current house in the summer of 2011.

The monkeys were 10, 7, 5, and brand spanking new, and we were thrilled with our new space.

I’ve written before about the phantom cat that would rub up against our legs while we would be standing at the sink or at the changing table, whose scent we could sniff out in the air, every now and then.

Creepy.

Over the years, on my blog’s Facebook page, I’ve written about how Tiny has mentioned seeing people in his room that weren’t there, but those incidents were few and far between, and although they gave us the heebie-jeebies, they were quickly forgotten.

Until recently.

——-

A few weeks ago, as we were getting ready for work and getting the kids ready for school, Real Man pulled me aside and said, “So, something really weird happened last night.”

“What?  Did I not steal the covers and you didn’t know what to do with all that warmth?” I replied.

“Ha, ha…no,” he said.  “I woke up in the middle of the night because I could hear water running.  I went down the hall, and the faucet in the bathroom was on, full blast.”

“Maybe one of the kids got up?” I asked, hopefully, because a few nights before, Baby Monkey had gotten up to wash his hands in the night (who does that?) but, apparently, this night, it wasn’t him.

“No.  I went into their rooms to check and they were all completely out.”

“Weird.”

A few nights later, I was in the kitchen with Tiny, making dinner.

We were doing our usual dinner-making dance party thing, and having a great time, when Tiny suddenly stopped.

“Mama, who is that man?”

I stopped dancing.

“What man?”

Tiny pointed to the laundry room, which was empty, and said “That man.”

I walked slowly to the laundry room and peered out the window, thinking maybe he saw a neighbor in their backyard, but there was no one outside.

Or inside.

“Baby, there is no one here.”

Tiny pointed again and said, “Yes he IS!  He’s right there!”

I jumped out of the laundry room, back into the kitchen, and said “I’m sorry, sweetie, I have no idea who he is.”

Tiny kept looking, gave a sweet smile and then said, “Okay, he’s going now.”

I closed the laundry room door and finished preparing dinner faster than I have ever cooked in my life, and all through the meal, sat feeling the hairs on the back of my neck up, because my chair has it’s back to the laundry room door.

The faucet could have been explained by a child getting up.

The man in the laundry room could have been explained by the active imagination of a four year old.

I could have forgotten it all.

Except, a few mornings later, Real Man was getting ready for work, and I was still in bed, sleeping, as I wasn’t working that day.

The kids were all downstairs, eating breakfast, and we were the only people upstairs.

We have all hardwood floors and no carpets, and the floors on the second floor creak and groan mercilessly when anyone, even Tiny walks on them.

There is no sneaking up on anyone in our house.

Well, if you are a human, that is.

So, our bedroom door was closed, and Real Man was bending over, putting on his shoes, and suddenly, a lone, unpopped popcorn kernel rolled under the door and across the room.

He immediately flung open the door, but, surprise, there was no one there.

He went downstairs and they were all still eating their breakfast in the kitchen.

Nothing amiss in their little worlds.

——-

So, what does this mean?

I don’t know.

What I do know is that it’s freaky, but it’s okay.

My whole life has been full of these strange occurrences, and I’m fine with it.

None of it ever hurt me or anyone I loved, so I’m good with whatever is going on.

Maybe it’s all coincidence, and that’s fine, too.

But, I’m happy letting my imagination run wild and envisioning all the things that it could be.

Until it happens again.