#reverb 12: remembering


Imagine you will completely lose your memory of 2012 in 7 minutes. Set an alarm for 7 minutes and capture the things you most want to remember about 2012.
(Patty Digh, with an extra 2 minutes from Lee)

This is how I answered the prompt in 2010. Reading that post made me cry, for a lot of reasons, but mostly because I remember that little girl version of me who stood in the rain, and wondered at the night sky about falling in love, the girl who loved fireworks and imagined worlds far beyond her reach, the girl who both before and after 2010 felt like she'd lost her muchness and these bright moments of 2010 (2 whole years ago) bring it back. It helps me see how far I've come and how I got here.

Dear Self,

In the next seven minutes, you are going to forget 2012 for how long I'm not exactly sure; let's say until the next reverb prompt. So until your memory returns there are some highlights I'd like to share with you. 

The most important thing to remember is that you are loved. This year has overwhelmed you with generosity from strangers, from family, friends and the one you love. Your relationship with your family has gotten stronger, which has meant a lot. It has been a rollercoaster of moments, significant highs and lows. It felt like a fast moving train once summer hit and things got set into motion quickly for moving to a new position. But in between all of the focus on jobs and moving, there were amazing moments like holding your niece for the first time, and later watching her crawl and giggle at funny faces you made. How it feels like this complete gift to be part of her life, the way it does any time you get to see Nora and watch her grow. Watching Nora eat her brithday cake will be one of the highlights of this year. 

You took tending to heart and mended relationships, swallowing your pride, letting things go and it made you free from all of that energy so you could spend it more usefully, like tending to your body, getting healthy, working out, losing weight. You have accomplished so much in six months and you should be proud of all of that work. 

You have been shaken up by your grandmother's illness, the way her mental health has declined, but you have continued to give her the gift of your words and though she may not be able to express it, she is grateful. Your mother says she asks about you constantly.

You found joy in your work, again. In teaching and working with students on their writing. You felt alive in the classroom and it made your students care about their work. Even those boys you thought were not paying attention told you on the last day of class how they looked forward to your class despite their groans and fears about writing. They knew you cared and so they did, too. 

But mostly you were loved, from a distance sometimes because you moved four hours away to teach, but every email and IM message, text and phone call help. It keeps you going, pushing yourself to be worth the sacrifices, making moments matter. Each time you see her, your breath catches in your throat like it did when you first met her almost 9 years ago. And you fall in love all over again, remembering how she captured your attention and was only one you wanted to see in the entire room. Only now, you are not scared of these feelings but emboldened by them, honored by them and know that how very much she feels like home.

You take photographs and create scrapbooks and you find the world beautiful. You feel like a better version of yourself and you smile a lot more.  

You write poems again, love poems and even though it's only a few, you feel like you've woken up from a very long sleep. 

You are happy and loved. You carved a path to happiness, the way Gran told you. You have tended to yourself and your loved ones marvelously. You have your muchness back and you are a warrior. You never needed rescuing. Not for a second.