Why wouldn’t God want you to Giggle?
At the end of a book I recently finished, the author states how important it is for a person who feels like they have found something to do their best to share it. And it’s not that I don’t think that is true, it’s just sometimes, well, it’s fucking embarrassing.
However, I decided it was go time this weekend when I finally read the last chapter.
Much to my surprise this dude wrapped his book up by telling a story that takes place in the very place I was, about ten years ago. It’s a time I have been thinking about a lot lately because that was the point in my life when I spent a good portion of my free time reading books about things that have since landed in my lap all over again, although in a slightly different package.
At that time, so long ago, I was devouring books about Buddhism in between Polish language classes in Kazimierz, the Jewish district of Krakow, Poland. I have only really lived a couple of places on this planet and well, randomly, that’s one of them.
But that’s not the story I think I am supposed to share. Not tonight anyway. The one I can’t help but think of happened more recently, quite a bit closer to home.
A little more than a month ago, I had a whirlwind of a weekend. It was jam packed full of people I love and although it was intense, I am delighted to have been a part of it.
For three days my life was flooded with friends, some of whom I hadn’t seen in years.
Day one was a backyard party at my house, something which I have been shying away from sharing. And the next day was the reason. A seemingly effortless (although I know it took a lot of work!) wedding between two people who have been in love for so long it almost seems silly that they needed me to legally marry them. They are such a great couple that I think almost everyone there had sort of forgotten they weren’t already. ♥
The very next morning I woke up early and braved a monsoon, to make it to a hidden suburban golf course, dripping on the floor wet, to a baby shower for one of my very oldest friends. As they say, Hell or High water babe. ♥
Now conveniently for me, all of these festivities took place very close to the town in which I grew up. Not the least of which, was that my parents had been taking care of my dog.
When the whirlwind stopped, there I was, alone in my car, trying to get my phone to tell me where the hell I was.
Which is funny, I guess, because in reality, I was lost, less than ten miles from where I grew up.
So there I am, in my car, now physically dry, thanks in part to the blow dryer in the ladies locker room, making my own monsoon. I didn’t even realize I was crying until the car behind me honked. I composed myself and waved them past, drying my eyes and almost laughing out loud when my phone finally showed me just how close I was to a road I have been down at least one million times.
I sat there for a second, not quite ready to move, letting it all wash over me. I had managed to forget until that very second, just how I had spent Memorial Day weekend, just one year ago.
It was very hard, sitting there, to not feel like life had forgotten me. Milestones were fucking flying around and here I was heading to my parents house to collect, what we jokingly refer to, as their only grandchild.
Maybe it was the sound of my tiny violins that made me notice I didn’t even have the radio on. I never ever do that, ever, unless I am on the phone. But just hours ago, I had been.
Calling to say, although I was late, I was still coming, and by the way how the fuck do you get into the parking lot? A call that killed me to make, because during a dark time in my life, I managed to forget to show up to this, now very pregnant friend’s, wedding shower. Something that I had been immediately forgiven for by everyone involved, except of course, myself.
This was the song on the radio when I finally turned it on.
I see no other logical explanation, if you will, other than God knew I needed a goddamned laugh.
A couple of months ago I blew several gift cards on Amazon buying pretty much any book on Synchronicity that caught my eye and have since been, one by one, taking them down.
If you are anything like me, your relationship with that word is pretty much defined by the band The Police. And honestly, until pretty recently, I kind of thought it was a word that Sting had made up. And until even more recently, I didn’t know that this song was not the title track of the record.
But maybe it fits me even more this way. Synchronicity II.
That is, if I really am getting any closer to whatever it was that I was sitting in all of those years ago.
So anyway, if you are reading this, then you know how to find me. And I have all kinds of books you can borrow.
If you are so inclined. ♥