From Chaos Comes Happiness

Sometimes, it hits me like a brick. Like a fucking huge ass brick that is coming at me 100mph. My sister is dead. Shocking . . . to say it like that. So direct. So final. But it is the truth. And sometimes, it hits me just like that. I walked into my house yesterday to this . . . her wedding dress. In my living room. My brother-in-law wanted me to have it - in case my girls wanted it for either a part of their own dresses some day, or maybe their babies christening gowns. Or something. The thought was one of kindness and generosity. But still, it fucking hit me like a brick. Today? Why today? And why did my own husband just leave it there for me to see? And why is it such a big deal to me? Because . . . it hurts. It hurts every damn day. It has been 434 days since she passed. (No, I am not keeping a tally going . . . I promise. I just looked it up for this post.) But, it has been 434 days since she passed. And it has hurt for 434 days. And that, my frien...

I am sitting in my daughters room right now, it is 6AM . . . . and she is 13. She turned thirteen at the end of January, and last night she had some friends over for a small birthday gathering and sleep over. 13. My Ella. The kids are all sleeping in the family room, and I woke early, mildly suffering from the onset of a cold that is slowly starting to move down to the chest. I needed hot tea - pronto - so instead of making a ruckus in the kitchen, I grabbed my car keys and headed to Starbucks (their medicine ball tea really is the best). This also gave me the opportunity to be the greatest mom (a goal I recognize is unattainable and unrealistic), and picked up two dozen Dunkin Donuts - one dozen assorted and one dozen vanilla long johns (because those really are best). Returning home, I grabbed my tea, my iPad, a book, and a long john (hey, I am human), and took myself to Ella’s room - the only place where I would not disturb all the sleeping creatures in our house. I don...

(This is a continuing story about a recent trip I took with my dear friend, Peggy, to Georgia. You can start at the beginning of our adventure at  this blog post ,  and continue to read one after another.)  Oh, my friends. When last together, I had just finished my 5th blog post about my "Year of Healing" road trip to Plains and Americus, Georgia. With one last post to write . . . I lost my way for a bit.    It turns out in the middle of healing, sometimes your creative voice stalls. And if there is one thing I have learned in the past 6 months, it is the importance of listening to yourself and allowing yourself the time it needs - when it needs it. I thank you for your patience and understanding. Because, my friends, this trip has had a lasting effect on me.  Allow me, if you will, to bring us back to Americus, Georgia and share my final post about a trip that helped me beyond words.  Wednesday, April 3rd, our second day in Americu...

(This is a continuing story about a recent trip I took with my dear friend, Peggy, to Georgia. You can start at the beginning of our adventure at   this blog post ,  and continue to read one after another.)  Tuesday, April 2nd: We woke to another gorgeous morning at the Plains Historic Inn, and took a couple extra hours resting before starting on the next adventure in Americus. That last morning at the Inn was a lovely one, and while we were sad to leave these beautiful accommodations, we knew we were moving on to equally as awesome places.  Plains, you did our heart some good.  And I thank you.  We checked out of the Inn, and took the short car ride to Americus, where we met our dear friend Nicole at her office, and toured the Americus Visitor Center. Nicole is the  Director of Tourism for the City of Americus. (If you don't already know Nicole . . . YOU WANT TO!) She is so knowledgeable about the area and knows all the best places to go . . ...

(This is a continuing story about a recent trip I took with my dear friend, Peggy, to Georgia. You can start at the beginning of our adventure at   this blog post ,  and continue to read one after another.)  When I last left you, we had just finished our walk through THE haunted house in Plains, Georgia. Truth be told, we were absolutely fine during that quick look at the house, and how I would have just been GIDDY had a door closed on its own, or something strange took place while we were there - but I am happy to report that other than an eerie feeling , we did just fine.  So, we moved on . . . and our next destination was The Boyhood Farm of President Carter.  Carter Family Farm  Can you believe that I took about 10 pictures of the dining room table (full of "fake" food), and the kitchen and bathroom . . . but failed to take a picture of the actual exterior of the house? I guess that is what happens when there is food around (fake or no...