August Twenty-Seven.

If I was not opposed to it, I would be using superfluous amounts of curse words in this blog entry.  However, I know the good Lord would not appreciate such language, so I will try to refrain.

One year ago I sat alone in my dorm room at America's Keswick, one hour and fifteen minutes away from my home.  One year ago today I called my mom's cell phone to hear her voice and wish her a happy birthday.  She was so happy.  She made it to August 27th.  "I knew you would, Mommy." I said with a twinge of sarcasm.  Of course she was going to have another birthday.  It was only Lymphoma.

The phone call didn't last long, she was out at dinner with the rest of the family.  I should have been there.  I should have explained my situation to my boss.  I should have just left.  But instead I sat in my room waiting for my nightly responsibilities to begin.  Looking back, I don't remember what I did that night.  Quite frankly, I don't give a crap.  It doesn't matter, it didn't matter.  All I remember is falling asleep that night was hard.  Not because I was sad not to be home, but because I was so self-absorbed, so caught up in the mess I had made.

On August 26th we made bars of soap as an activity.  I made a pink one with lavender flowers in it.  I knew my mom would have loved it.  I was going to wrap it up and give it to her as soon as I got home.  But I lost it.  I never found it.  I never gave her a birthday present.

And now it's August 27th.  I'm sitting alone in my bedroom,  one hour and fifteen minutes away from America's Keswick.  I went out to dinner tonight, but Mommy wasn't there.  We had a cake with custard and fresh strawberries, topped with lots and lots of pink and white flowers.  We all just sat there, staring at it.  Nobody wanted to touch it.  Probably because it's just not right to have cake without the special birthday person not there.

I miss hearing my mom walk in the door and setting her keys on the table.  I miss her complaining about the dishes not getting done.  I miss her walking up the stairs to bring me a shirt that somehow got mixed up in her laundry.  I miss her sitting on the end of my bed, commenting on my massive amounts of dirty clothes, and then in the same breath, complementing my picture of Andrew.  I miss walking in on her kneeled beside her bed praying.  I miss her giving me a hug and saying "You're a good Doobie".

Mommy, I love you.  I can't wait to see.  If I could, I would have a countdown of days til I get to give you a hug (just like the ones you and I would make for me seeing Andrew).  I miss you so much, but I love you even more than that.

Because Pink is Her Favorite; Because it Reminds Me of Her.

I didn't get the "dorm room experience" last year, I won't this year, and by the time Junior and Senior year roll around, I won't want it. So I kind of created my own "experience" by completely redecorating my bedroom. It still has pink walls, and is still Paris themed. But I now have a new bed, new sheets, new chair, new lights, and new end tables. It feels like new everything, quite honestly.

I really like my new room, but I think my favorite part is the pink daisy that's sitting on the pink end table.

Sweet Serenades.

sing me to sleep and I will be the content.
hold my hand through the night and I will be safe.

what would happen if you sing me to sleep while holding my hand?
I hope I find out.

The Ocean is Salty, Just Like Tears.

God, I know it's selfish, but I want to get married, grow old, and die in my husband's arms.

Forget love, I just want you to make sense to me tonight.
Forget words, I just want you to make sense to me tonight.
-Anchor & Braille