With a strong smell of spring, Benjamin and I zoomed down the Falcon Trail in the Air Force Academy around 6pm last night. Dodging thundershowers and racing daylight, I had one of those "I love it here" rides. And by here, I mean where I am both physically and mentally. I love following Benjamin's quick descents on his mountain bike, love zooming through the forest and over rocky trail sections. Love that my life is what it is and appreciative of so much abundance. And I love that my legs felt amazing, ready for the meandering challenge.
The smells were incredible. An earthy scent: dust, pine needles, green blades of grass, and peppered with small rain drops. I breathed deeply in, thankful for the opportunity to be playing in its presence, full grin on my face as we flew down the trail. Yes, I sang the whole way.
"Who are you talking to?" Benjamin asked at one point.
"Nobody! Just singing!" ZOOM down the trail, booming out the chorus to New Order's song Temptation. Benjamin added the lyrics.
"Up, down, turn around
Please don't let me hit the ground
Tonight I think I'll walk alone
I'll find my soul as I go home"
Colorado rain is much different than Washington's. It comes in small spurts and the drops are like fine needles, barely touching the skin. In the high desert, the rain is welcome. It's the greenest I have ever seen it here, thanks to the nightly thundershowers. Funny though, if you were to visit from Seattle, you'd wonder why everything looks brown.
Spring is late. Much later than last year. We are just now hitting temperatures in the 70's. The snow is melting off the surrounding fourteeners and the river and stream banks are bulging. Our street is lined with bright green bulbs, providing shade and color.
Somedays just leave you thankful. Thankful for everything in your life, in this moment, in this lifetime in this Universe. Come visit me in Colorado and I'll take you on those trials so you can feel it too. Singing is mandatory.
Days of the week are flying by. The weeks are screaming by too. And we're nearly half way through May? It's not that I mind, not at all. More than anything I notice how different my routine is.
The world keeps spinning madly on. Fingers fly over the keyboard, communicating with my beloved community right next door and thousands of miles away. Getting things done here there and everywhere. My book is one of my main focuses right now so I charge ahead. (Oh just wait! It's going to be good. Really, really good.)
And then it hits me. A Radiohead song sends me back in time, back to a place that I haven't been in a while. One where I feel alone and the waves of loss wash over me. A lump builds in my throat. My shaggy dog whines from the other room to comfort me. I guess that sob was out loud. Or maybe she's just hungry.
If you've ever lost someone close to you, you know what I mean. If you haven't you will eventually.
It's not that I haven't created a new wonderful life. One that I am thankful for each and every day. I wouldn't trade my life for anything. It really is beautiful, unique and full of abundance.
It's just that sometimes it still hits me without warning. A song, a smell, a taste, a sign that from another dimension letting me know that he thinks about me and misses me too.
Reconstructing past painful events is hard work. I'm diving deep into when I first understood Ryan died and the events surrounding it. It's like an injured limb that will never be the same after its trauma. Certain weather agitates it, leaving you achey and remembering what it was like before. Before the loss, before the hurt, before the circle of life.
Except I know I'm stronger. I know I'm wiser. I know I wouldn't trade what happened to me for any one else's life, but that still doesn't make it any easier at times.
Why do I go there? Especially if it's so painful? Because I know deep in my core that it will help heal me. And even better - it could help someone else going through a similar experience.
So here's to facing your worst fears and turning them into beautiful stories.
