Promises to Self

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A lot changed in me today.

I've realized:

I won't settle...

I won't wait...

I will write more often...

I won't dwell on my mistakes...

I will do more yoga...

I am who I am and nothing is going to change that...

Where Did The Time Go?

These months are flying by so fast,

life is changing, rearranging.

...mondaythursdaysaturdayfebruarytuesdaynovemberaugust...

Things that once seemed constant aren't staying that way,

days are melting together, creating forever.

...sleepworkschooleattalklovecryseedowritereadwalk...

Hold onto all these moments,

they're fleeting.

...embrace, chase, race time...

Dipsticks and Rat Cages

With the closing of the 2010 Winter Olympics and every Vancouverite still buzzing about their favourite moments, we got to talking at work about our top memories in life. Most of us agreed that Sidney Crosby's gold medal goal in overtime against the US made our top tens. I can't even begin to explain the pure happiness that rushed through me as I jumped and screamed for joy. As I laid in bed a couple nights later, I started to think about other moments in my life that made the 'best' list. And although none of them will be known worldwide or remembered like this year's Olympics, they make me just as happy to remember them. Try to think about your best memories, big or small. It's not easy to recall all of those great little occasions but for some reason we can always replay the bad ones. Here are a few of my best memories.

• June 2009: The idea formed and it all came together rather quickly. I found out about the concert, received my first passport, and booked the hotel room. My mum and dad picked me up and made the short trek to Seattle. We had dinner in a market place pub where I was beyond antsy the entire time. Finally, we arrived at the venue and the show started. Third Eye Blind stole my heart again, like the very first time I fell in love with their music. And the best part was that my parents were there to share one of my best nights with me.
  
  
  
• We lived in a small basement suite. I must have been about six because my brother was turning one. He was in his blue, music-making walker as my mum and I blew up his party balloons. (I had to hand mine off to mum to be tied because I just couldn't get it. That annoyed me). As we blew up more and more balloons, our floor became a sea of rainbow bubbles. We began throwing them around, bouncing them off of Luke's baby blonde head. Then, out came a gut-tickling laugh from his little baby belly, and he laughed, and laughed, and laughed! I'll never forget the sound of that laughter because I'll never again experience such true emotion. No one in the world has ever been or will ever be as happy as Luke was at that moment. To this day, that feeling warms my heart. It helps me to cherish every laugh and every tear and remember why I love him so very much.
  
  
• Red mittens, mimosas, the early spring sun shining in through a window, and the Olympic gold medal game for men's hockey was tied. It was between USA and Canada and going into overtime. I can't recall any specific details about that fourth period other than my beating heart and tense body. But I do remember the winning goal. We all jumped up and screamed and hugged and high-fived each other. I felt like my soul had briefly left my body. Once in a lifetime, memorable, unbelievable... there aren't strong enough words in any language to truly explain the happiness and national pride of that day.
  
  
• I had spent the day driving my car that wasn't much bigger than a go-cart through the snowy Rocky mountains. Not necessarily a treacherous drive, but it's been known to happen that some people don't make it. Nevertheless, I arrived in Salmon Arm at my parents home in time (in fact a day early) for Christmas. On this odd occasion, as I drove up there was already a small crowd of my family members chatting outside, one being my little sister Raelyn. For some reason, this bubbling excitement came over me. I leaped out of my car and ran to the snow covered grass where my sister and I hugged. The hug turned into a short wrestling match in the deep snow, I threw her down into a bank and she face washed me back. I'm not sure why such a small memory stands out in my mind, but I can't think of another time when I was so glad to be a big sister and to just love her so much for that moment.
  
  
• There are a lot of things and people in this world that make me laugh and I know that I laugh often. There aren't though, many instances that I can recall what was so funny. Except for one day when I was about eighteen and my younger sister Danielle was sixteen. We had decided it would be a good idea to put black streaks into my blonde hair, the kind of streaks that involve multiple sheets of tin foil. We had all of the sheets in, the colour had set, and it was time to rinse. This is when the hilarity ensued. Somehow we got the idea in our heads that the black pieces of hair looked like oil covered dipsticks and the crumple of the used tin foil sounded like clanging rat cages. To us, this was the funniest thing known to man and we broke into gut-wrenching laughter until our cheeks hurt, we couldn't breathe, and we had tears running down our faces. It still to this day doesn't make sense OR seems as funny, but in that moment, as we were in many moments in our younger years, we were on the same wavelength. We were so close that our bodies were programmed to the same things and this caused us to laugh ourselves nearly to insanity. I don't think I'll ever be that close to a person again in this lifetime, unless I give birth to one, and that is a feeling to be cherished.
  
  
• This one isn't exactly one moment of happiness but more a mash of many similar ones. I grew up with a truck driver for a dad which meant my summer holidays were spent in the "big rig" (our childhood name for a semi truck). This on it's own would have been a terrific memory: chasing the asphalt to different cities and towns, seeing things I never would have living in Calgary, and developing a huge fondness for travelling by highway. To make this memory even better, it was always with my dad. We would look out at the starry black sky as we drove and discussed life, science, poetry, religion, where we thought we came from, and where we would end up. We talked about growing up and getting old and all the things that happen in between. This is the time that I got to know my dad. This was the lost time being made up from the rest of the year when I was in school and he was away. This is how I learned that half of my soul came from him, and that is just awesome.
  
  
• Dad was on the road and it was a typical morning getting ready for school in our house. Four kids, four dogs, and my mum all running around late, finding lost socks, and packing backpacks. My mum was tired she told us, because she had spent the previous night reading a book so good that she never once put it down. Mum explained that it was a true story about a boy, brutally abused for years by his parents while his siblings were favoured. We were intrigued and she agreed to sit down and read us one chapter before school. Before we knew it, it was noon and we were halfway through the novel, then two in the afternoon rolled by and by the time school was out we were nearing the end, mum still reading aloud to us. There were moments when we looked at each other curiously because we were all in tears hearing about this boy's terrible life. I think the book changed us all, made us realize how great our lives and family are. For me, it also showed a new side to my mum that I never knew was there. Of course I loved my mum, but she was always known as the boss, the tough mumma that was never sad or afraid. I started to see her not only as a mother, but also a teacher to us, and a true, real person like us all because we had never really seen her cry before. I'll always remember the day that my mum let us skip school to show us her true heart and soul.

As I re-read this, I've realized most of my happiest moments involve my family. No problems there! Enjoy your family and your happy moments too because you never know when it might be gone.