If you were here

If you were here, I'd tell you about my conversation this morning with a young man you would enjoy meeting.

I wish I could introduce the two of you if only to hear that laugh and see that mischievous grin you seemed to carry with you everywhere. If you were here, I would introduce you to so many people I think you would enjoy.

If you were here, we could both be nervous together about mom's upcoming trip. I guess I should say excited for her, proud of her, and nervous all at the same time. If you were here, you would make sure she had everything planned out to each detail and letter - assuring she wouldn't get too lost or would not travel alone around volatile countries.

If you were here, we could laugh about the thought of her having a special brownie while in Amsterdam. This, I believe, would once again bring out that laugh and, more than likely, one of your infamous jigs.

If you were here, I wouldn't have to tell people that you passed away. I wouldn't have cried when I found the letter you wrote me not too long before you died. I wouldn't have this incessant longing to tell you about all of the funny, challenging, and interesting things going on, because I would just come over at happy hour and tell you.

If you were here, you would be in love with both Harbour and Connally. Connally would make you laugh constantly, and Harbour would be your beautiful girl. Their antics would tickle you, and you would lay your hand on their heads as they sat by you and watched the world go by.

If you were here, you would be amazed by Henry, and how wonderful of a little boy he is. You would love to see the pictures of him playing in the water and smiling in his sweet little way. You would laugh at James as he runs head first everywhere. You would find him funny and charming. You would be in love with Molly - how she's grown since you left. She can read and write and do so many things. She still probably wouldn't always care for your jokes. She is beautiful and fun. She is seven.

But you aren't here. I mean, you may be around or maybe you're not, but you aren't HERE. And so, I will continue to think of you each time I meet someone I feel you would enjoy. I will continue to worry enough about mom's travel adventures for the both of us, as well as feel proud and excited for her. I will continue to read your letter and feel my heart clench as I do.  I will put my hand on Harbour and Connally's heads in your way in hopes of them feeling the weight of you. I will be amazed by Henry, charmed by James, and enjoy Molly so that they will always know you would do the same.

I will miss you, and even as that missing changes over the seasons, I will think of you with love and thankfulness, which perhaps I didn't do enough when you were here.

It's OK to Close Your Eyes during Yoga

I don't relax well.

I wake up in the morning with a usual jolt of anxiety. I immediately grab my phone, check my email, make sure I haven't missed any emergency calls, and turn off my alarm. I bolt out of bed, jump into my work out clothes, brush my teeth, grab my water bottle, keys, and wallet, and head to CrossFit.

This is how I start my day approximately 75% of the time. The other 25% of the time, I do the same thing minus the head to work out part.

Then my CrossFit box started offering yoga once a week. YES! I need this! I need to stretch and relax and be peaceful. I can totally do this. So I went. I tried. I really tried to just breathe, relax into the pose, close my eyes. Then I learned I don't like to close my eyes. Did you realize that when you breathe, relax, and close your eyes, your brain slows down just long enough for you to start feeling things - I mean, besides anxiety, stress, rushing, movement, go - go -GO! Yeah, I wasn't a fan.

I didn't close my eyes. No ma'am.

Then they make you REALLY relax at the end of it all. I am flat on my back, breathing deeply, and our awesome instructor comes over and puts his hands on my head and shoulders in a very soothing way and says to me, "It's ok to close your eyes during yoga. It's over now. You did it. Go ahead and close your eyes."  I resisted the urge to say, if only you knew me a little more, that statement would make you laugh. But I do it. I close my eyes. I relax. I breathe. I feel - and so many emotions come through - none of which I'm terribly pleased to have presented to me.

And then it's over. I head home feeling slightly strange until I pick up my phone, check my email, look at my calendar for the day, listen to voicemail, and start the rushing again.

I immediately make a promise to go to every yoga class I can. I don't relax well. I'd like to change that.

Dear Year Past and Year Ahead

Dear 2013,

I want to thank you for so many things. Thank you for bringing into my life my new nephew, Henry. He is just the sweetest, happiest baby. Thank you for making my brother a dad and my sister-in-law a mom. They are amazing parents.

Thank you for letting me watch James learn to walk and become a human tornado. Thank you for his sweet smile and flirtatious ways. Thank you for giving me another wonderful year with Molly, whom will always hold a special place in my heart. That little girl is something else, and I can't believe another year has gone and she will be 7 this year. 7!

Thank you for my last year with Gil, for being present at his passing, for being able to be a friend and shoulder to my mother. Those are incredible memories for which I will be forever grateful.

Thank you for new friendships. Thank you for introducing me to an amazing little boy, Miller, who steals my heart with every dimple cheeked grin and wheeling around of his chair. Each time he says my name, I melt yet again. Thank you for reminding me of life's precious gifts wrapped in heartache and devastation.

Thank you for older friendship. Thank you for their warmth and love, their laughter and ridicule. Thank you for every moment I've shared with them over this last year - through it all. Thank you for their understanding and monumental strength they've shared with me.

Thank you for my oldest friendships. Thank you for those people in my life who have known me since childhood, who have seen me at every phase of my life, who don't hesitate to point out when I need to snap out of it, who scold me and then smile warmly - letting me know they wouldn't say it if they didn't love me. Thank you for the time I have with them.

Thank you for the continued love in my life who puts up with me on a daily basis. The person who gives me peace at the end of a long day and brings me saltines and ginger ale late at night when I needed it. Thank you for each moment, each laugh, each adventure Saturday, each walk, and each smile.

Thank you for every opportunity brought into my life and for the willingness and, at times, foolhardiness, to take a hold of that opportunity and try to make something of it. Thank you for the willingness to fail; thank you for every stumble and every triumph along the way.

And lastly, thank you to my sweet pups and cat. I love you so much. You bring me such joy.

With utmost thanks,

Tucker


Dear 2014,

Be kind. Be gentle. Be loving. Be strong. Be open. Be caring. Be nice. Bring tolerance. Bring excitement. Bring new adventures. Bring relief. Bring strength. Bring character. Bring acceptance. Bring creativity. Bring success. Bring challenge. Bring love. Bring laughter. Bring cures.

This year, there will be no worrying about what the scale says, but rather about true fitness. This year, there will be no diets or fads, but an awareness of what foods work best for my body, and which foods are completely worth it to eat for the sheer joy of eating them.

This year, there will be big events and small milestones, may I move through each with grace and peace.

This year I will push, challenge, risk, strive for those things I desire to do, for those things that will be good for me, my family, and my life.

This year, I will travel, I will meet new people and have new adventures. This year I will focus.

I will welcome everything you bring, 2014, but I promise you that if you aren't nice about it, I will take you down. So good luck, my friend, good luck.

Best wishes,

Tucker

Thankful: Full of thanks

Over the past month, I've read my friends "thankful" posts - triggering me to think of my own each day. The problem with this is that once I start thinking of all of the things/people/experiences for which I'm thankful, I can't stop. It has made me a happier person.

I have had the incredible privilege to live my amazing life. Each moment, each person, each experience and encounter, all of those and everything in between, has gotten me to where I am: so full of joy and thanks that it is often disturbingly powerful. Because of you, my friends, family, acquaintances, loves, and furbabies, I am grateful, hopeful, and driven to be a kinder, more thoughtful, and loving person.

My family and friends have picked me up when I was at my lowest moment, laughed with me and at me when it was appropriate and, of course, completely inappropriate. My journeys have carried me to see amazing sights and meet wonderful people. I have loved and lost, overcome and succumbed, given and taken, provided and been provided for, and lived beyond my imagination.

Today, I am grateful for everything mentioned above, but most of all, I am grateful for loving one of the most kind, considerate, forgiving, tolerant, patient, compassionate, goofy, loyal, and supportive people I know. I am grateful for the past three years that I've been able to spend with my family, by their side as they have been by mine. I am grateful for the conversations I had with my dad before he left this earth, for the hugs and smiles I will always remember, for his colorful language and demanding nature, and for his love. I am grateful for my mother's strength and love, for her hugs, for her amazing cooking skills, and for her belief in me. I am grateful for my siblings and their spouses for their friendship, love, support, jokes, children, kindness, warmth, and unconditional caring for me, each other, their children, and our mother. Finally, I am grateful for my sweet girls who wag their tail each time we walk through the door, who roll over as you approach them in hopes that their tummies will be rubbed, who dig the largest and deepest holes I've ever seen in 5 seconds flat, who think the raised garden bed is their personal sandbox, who crawl in bed with me on Saturday mornings, who swim and run with such glee and joy you can't help but revel in their happiness.

I am thankful for all that has happened, continues to happen, and for what the future holds. I have a feeling the next year will entail more adventures, more love, and an incredibly powerful journey.