Thanks for the title quote today, Mr. Einstein.
Still no news, little one. It’s no fun in no news land, I must say. And it’s not helping that the calendars are haunting me.
We went to the RV show over the weekend, and the calendar haunted me. Do you want to book a campground weekend getaway today? If you book today, it’s half off! The wide eyed campground representative said to us. RB and I looked at each other and almost simultaneously shook our heads and said, No thanks, we have to check our schedule.
But there is no schedule to check. We have no schedule.
I come in to work and everyday the calendar haunts me. It stares me square in the face. Hanging so innocently on the corkboard a mere foot from my own eyes are tangible evidence of every day and month leading up to June. A tiny hand drawn heart, so small you wouldn’t realize it was there unless it was pointed out to you (that was intentional) floats below the11 on the June calendar. June 11th- I’ve marked it with a heart on the calendar and every day it kind of hurts to see it there, taunting me.
This heart could be nothing. You prematurely wrote this here. Did you really think it would all work out like some kind of Disney fairytale? Did you think your luck was finally changing? Did you really think something that miraculous could happen to you?
It tries to strike me down everytime I glance over at that tiny blue heart.
But it won’t.
Yes, this is hard. Its hard not knowing if we’ll be in New Jersey in June for ten days, or sitting at home on our couch sad and depressed. Its hard not knowing if we’ll have you here for the summer, or if we’ll still be searching for you. Its hard to think that we’re setting ourselves up for a let down later. Its so damn hard.
But its also exhilarating.
You could be here in June. And if not, you could be here at any time. That thought can only be described as just plain wild, little one. Its wild to think that yes, maybe you won’t be here in June…but then there is July. And August. And September. And October…and the rest of our lives. This is the only time in our lives we’ll get to experience a rollercoaster like this one.
There are two ways to handle a rollercoaster: with your eyes shut, fists clenched, sweat pouring down your forehead with the mere anticipation of how badly it could go. You don’t even peek through your eyes to see what lies ahead, you hold on to the handlebar for dear life and you’re so wrought with fear that you don’t even let yourself feel the dips and drops. All you worry about is the next time you’ll hear the distinctive click click click click going up another hill before a big drop. You make yourself queasy with worry over how its going to feel going down the hill that you can do nothing but clench your jaw and close your eyes tight and not let yourself experience anything until the ding that alerts you the ride is finally over.
And you get off the rollercoaster, and you can’t remember anything about the ride.
Or, theres option two.
You feel it. You may be scared, you may get a little freaked at the ominious sound of the click click click as the chains pull the coaster up the hill. But once you get to the top of that hill, your eyes open wide to take in the most breathtaking view. Instead of forcing your eyes shut, you force them open. You see with ultimate clarity what the track has in store for you, and you get excited at the prospects. When the cart does finally pass that moment that seems like an eternity at the top of the first hill, you take a deep breath and throw your hands high in the air. Your lungs open wide and you scream with joy and feel the force of the coaster with all your senses- letting your hands and arms feel the wooshing air, screaming at the top of your lungs, taking in the aromas of the park- the cotton candy, the deep woods surrounding- and you just ride. You coast down every valley, you soar through each dip. You let yourself feel every bump and sharp turn, and you enjoy it.
You let go, and enjoy the ride.
And this time when you get off the coaster, you want to relive the experience. You want to get back in line and do it all over again.
I need to stop clenching my fists and jaw and keeping my eyes tightly shut. I need to throw my hands in the air, and feel the elation of this rollercoaster.
That way, if the ride does end prematurely, I’m ready to get back on and do it all over again…only this time, I’ll know the track.
And then when its all over, and you’re in our arms, we can proudly say…
That was one hell of a ride, and totally worth every second!
And maybe even…lets do it again.