My Hat

What does it mean to be extraordinary?

We all have people in our lives who we think are extraordinary.
And we would give anything to be like them.

Ask them and they would say they were average at best, maybe even below that.
Is that what makes them so much more than average?
Their complete and utter inability to see how extremely unaverage they really are?

Or is it the way they just keep caring, even when you don't deserve it?
Or how they always seem to show just how much they care about you when you least expect it and need it the most?

They dazzle the world by their mere existence within it.
And if you have the privilege of knowing them, you are better for it.
Because they teach you how to smile even when things are falling apart.

And they ask you what's inside the tweety lunchbox not because they care, but because they know that for some bizarre reason, it's important to you.

They listen to your problems and offer a shoulder when the tears start to fall, even when they know that there is no way for them to fix it.

But above all else, these extraordinary people in our lives, they love us - despite weakness, regardless of flaws. They see us not for who we are, but rather for who we can be.

And they inspire us to be... extraordinary.

I am grateful for the extraordinary people in my life, who make me want to be the beauty I see in them.

You have shaped my life and are molding my future.

I tip my hat to you.

Thank you.

Goodnight, dear void.

If you scream at the Universe, will it respond?

He wrapped his arms around Kelly, looking out over the lake that stretched for miles in front of them.

"You scared me. How long have you been standing there? What are you doing here anyway? I thought you hated coming out here."

"I thought it was time."

The sun was rising in beautiful oranges and pinks. They stood and watched the sun fill the lake with beauty and wonder. It must have been an hour at least before he broke the silence, "You okay? How do you feel about pancakes for breakfast? And maybe a fruit smoothie? I know you're trying to keep things healthy. Kell?" He turned her around in his arms so he could see her tear streaked face. Wrapping his arms ever tighter around her, he whispered, "It's going to be okay. I promise. We will find a way to make this better. We will make it through this. We will." As he held her, he felt her body relax into his; he could feel her tears seep through his button-up shirt, and he let a tear streak down his face as well.

How? How were they ever going to put this behind them. You were supposed to bear children, not bury them. How were things ever supposed to go back to normal? What was normal anymore? Jackie and Noah had been staying with their grandparents this past month but they were scheduled to come home next week. And then what? He would have to go back to the office, but how could he? Kelly would have too much time on her hands with both the kids in school and no Spencer to keep her busy and running non-stop.

Spencer. He felt the lump rise in his throat; how was it possible to still have any tears left?

The funeral had been three weeks ago - where had all that time gone? He and Kelly had spent most of those days and nights in silence, each dealing with the grief as best as they could. Why had this happened to them? He knew he shouldn't ask such a question because the universe was willingly questioned but seldom as willing to deign anyone with a response. Yet, he could not help wondering it nonetheless and at times he couldn't stop himself from screaming it at the top of his lungs, "HEY YOU, UP THERE, WHAT DID I DO TO DESERVE THIS? WHAT COULD I POSSIBLY HAVE DONE? I'M SORRY! I AM SO SORRY!!!"

He never got the Universe to respond directly, but slowly he began to see that maybe this was just the way the universe was run, maybe it really had very little to do with his past and so much more to do with his future.

An Exhausting Exhileration

What was it about those mountains that made her want to set out for the horizon and just keep going until she found whatever it was that she was looking for? In a way the mountains represented all the potential she could feel within herself. She knew she was better than this. She could feel it in every fiber of her being; this girl, that was not who she really was. This girl was who she settled for being from day to day because she didn't know just how to tap into her internal potential and change for real. She'd tried to change before, of course, but it had never stuck, not really. And she could feel the real her under her skin, underneath all of that other stuff that always held her back. The real her was beyond those mountains somewhere where only the sunrise would know her name. She woke up every morning feeling like a stranger in that skin. Until the morning she decided it was time to stop looking at the mountains, it was time to become one. And she changed. It wasn't easy and it didn't happen over night, but every day she worked endlessly to become the girl she knew she really was; the one who didn't have to hide behind that same old frame and shape, but the one who was free to do anything and to be anything she wanted to do and be. It made every day an exhausting exhilaration; becoming is harder than it looks.

My Playground

I watched A League of Their Own tonight, as in I caught the last part of it on AMC.
It made me miss my sisters. And then my Grandma.
We used to watch that movie as sisters every time we stayed at Grandma and Grandpa's on vacation.

In a frenzy to find Sister Perkins' Portugal address I ran across the card Grandma sent me for my birthday this year.

I got the card in the mail a good week or so before my birthday. I'd opened all my other cards and presents as soon as I'd received them - living alone renders almost all holidays (even birthdays)almost meaningless in terms of the specific day they are celebrated - but for some reason I'd felt that I really should wait and open the Grandparent's card on my actual birthday so it was fresh when they called to sing Happy Birthday to me. There were several times I almost opened it, but kept waiting instead.

I'd spent the night at Mari's place so as not to wake up alone on my 21st birthday - that just seemed sad and wrong for such a wonderous day in a girl's life.

I'd left my phone upstairs because I thought it was going to die, so I didn't get their calls.

Finally Kaylee called Mari's phone to see if she could reach me through her. She said 'happy birthday' and said that Mom and Dad had been trying to reach me all morning. They would likely be calling shortly now that they knew how to get ahold of me.

Mom called. She wished me happy birthday. Then told me that Grandpa had not been able to wake Grandma that morning and that she had likely passed away sometime during the night. She was crying. I hardly knew how to process it all.

Ryan called next, telling me that he had Cami already and he was coming to get me so we could all go somewhere to eat and be together.
Ryan paid for us.

We decided to have dinner together that night, for my birthday, and in honor of Grandma.

Driving home that day from Mari's all I could think about was that unopened birthday card - the last thing I would ever receive from my Grandmother in this life.

It was so hard to open it, let alone to read it.

Outside: Could a granddaughter be any sweeter, cuter, or nicer?

Inside: Not a chance!
Happy Birthday

And then in her own hand: Stay happy and wonderful! We love you and are so happy you are close. Keep that sparkle in your eyes and the smile on your lips!
Love, Grandma and Grandpa Bishop

I remember so many times that day just breaking down and sobbing. Often sliding to the floor wherever I was.

I am grateful to this day that I'd left that card unopened so I could have one last special memory with my Grandma on my birthday.

I still miss her everyday and can't help looking for her sometimes when I go to visit Grandpa.

I still kick myself for not calling to say thank you sooner.

And because my plan for my birthday, was to see her.

I love you, Grandma. You are everything I hope to one day be. Thank you for all the birthday cards, calls, and money. I'm sorry I probably never said it enough, but they meant the world to me. Thank you for all the creamies and orange soda, for all the games you played, and the hugs you gave. You were a one of a kind woman. Thank you for always taking the time to show me you loved me. One of my most treasured memories was when you and Grandpa insisted on taking me to dinner when I came up to see you nearly a year ago now. It was such a special time for just the three of us to be together, and it will stay in my heart forever. Most of all, thank you for raising my mother. She is so like you. You taught her how to laugh and how to love; she will carry your legacy with her for all time.
I can't wait to see you on the other side. Save me a seat.
Your granddaughter,
Abby

Goodnight, dear void.

This used to be my playground.
This used to be my childhood dream.
This used to be the place I ran to
whenever I was in need
of a friend

Once Upon a Library

I got a library card today.

I walked in with a proof of address and my ID, filled out an application, and picked out a card design,

- a green dinosaur running next to a volcano in the desert while grinning and reading a red book - and then it was done.

And somehow, the world seems a brighter place indeed.

As I walked in I had a rush of memories from the libraries of my past.

I remember being very little and reading in a cage(...?) in the library in St. Charles. I loved the picture books I would discover there.

I grew a little older and we moved to Cortland where the small Community Library was a safe haven of adventure and wonder. I would go there after school to hang out with my friends
and chat with them on AOL even though they were right next to me. Ya, we were cool.

Even bigger and cooler was the Dekalb Public Library where we would enroll in summer reading programs to get all sorts of cool prizes. It was so huge. I only ever used the bottom floor... I can't even imagine what else they have to offer there that is not filled with pictures or the Bailey School Kids' adventures!

I'm so excited to make new library memories. As far as I know, there is not cage in this new library, but I suppose it wouldn't really be socially acceptable for me and my 21 year old self to crawl into a reading cage anyway, so maybe it's going to be okay.

Goodnight, dear void.

Oh, Just a Roll

I learned to drive in a minivan - a blue 2001 Ford Windstar.

It wouldn't be until much later that he would get his name, USS Old Blue, but even then he was something special.

We traded in our giant Expedition when my brother went on a church mission to Chili and drove home to Illinois in Old Blue - our first cross country trip with him starting right off the bat (talk about hazing).

And that was it, Old Blue went with us everywhere we could imagine to go from then on. He drove and drove for miles and miles across the country to Utah and back home to Illinois again. Then down to Galveston, Texas and over to New York City, Niagra Falls and Ontario, until he dropped us back off at 1807 Ottawa St, Cortland, IL 60112.He would also take us to Yellowstone and the Tetons while we went camping on Kaylee's Senior trip, not to mention so many more trips to Virginia to drop Cami off at school and then later to watch her graduate, meanwhile also doing the menial trips in comparison to the stake center, temple, seminary, and school. He was a dream come true.

When I started to drive, my family had at that point added a little white mustang to the ranks. It was rusty when it came to driving to say the least, and would make the most horrid sounds at times when it decided to throw a fit. I would learn to love my 'baby girl' later on. But as a timid 15 year old girl, Old Blue was the smooth talking Son of a Gun who would calm me into getting behind the wheel on a regular basis.

It was in Old Blue that Dad took me driving on Airport Road the night before my first drive with my Driving Instructor. I was terrified and nearly drove us off the side of that country road several times. The speed limit was 55 and there was oncoming traffic like a steady fast-paced stream rushing towards us without letting up. I thought for certain that it was going to be the end of us. But Old Blue knew better.

It was also in Old Blue that I thought I would try out what I'd been learning in Driver's Ed by turning into the nearest available lane of traffic. With Mom in the front seat, I turned into the oncoming traffic's lane instead of my own. Mom screamed while Old Blue helped me seamlessly correct my course. I still laugh at the memory, though I'm not as sure that Mom found it all too humorous then... or now.

I eventually transitioned into the Mustang and she became my primary driving instrument until I moved to Hong Kong my senior year. The adventures Baby Girl and I went on together will be saved for another blogpost and time though.

Coming back from my year abroad, Kaylee had full ownership of Old Blue, and he was just biding his time before he and I could be fully reunited. He wouldn't share it openly, but I know my years with Baby Girl were not easy for him to watch. He was happy for me - and therefore us - to be sure, but nonetheless was even happier when he and I began sharing adventures once more.

So it came to be one creepy, late night that Mari, Old Blue, and I drove through Eureka in an attempt to find the Sand Dunes and all of our friends who we were supposed to be sharing the sunset with. I'm sure Eureka was not trying to be more creepy than usual, but Mari and I were beyond creeped out. As much as we could not find the Dunes and our friends, we did NOT want to go back to that 'town' to ask for directions. (I would like to pause here and beg the pardon of the townspeople of Eureka. We did not have the opportunity to have your pleasant homeland prove our perceived creepiness wrong, as I'm sure it would have.) Old Blue mustered something deep within him and nearly broke the warp speed barrier as he shot us from Eureka to the Sand Dunes in nearly no time at all. He had felt our fear growing and growing and would not let us become desolate and abandon hope on his watch. It is entirely possible that this near impossible feat was achieved partly as a result of the inner strength of Old Blue and partly because of the desperate prayer Mari and I had sent heavenward. Anyway you shift it, Old Blue was a factor and we are forever grateful.

I should probably at this point mention how Old Blue got his name and why he was so well versed in warp speed potentiality.

It was in this same summer that I submitted to grueling training under the tutelage of one Captain Kirk, of the USS Enterprise. As my grooming came to an end, he conferred a Captinhood upon myself and a United Space Shiphood upon Old Blue. As I took on the name of Captain Abby, Starship Old Blue became my companion through the space-time continuum. I had learned the ins and outs of running a crew and he had learned the ins and outs of warp drive and the universe itself it seemed. We soon left our old driving ways of the past where they belonged and took to flying at warp speeds heartily. We acquired a crew quickly enough, weeding through the hundreds of applicants in a timely manner so as to begin our space explorations as speedily as possible.

Our Crew was as follows:

Captain: Abby Yvonne Holyoak
Number One: NatAsha Lee Wallin
Helm Leader: Mari Katherin Cook
Medical Advisor: Sarah Beth Robishaw
Science Advisor: MacKenzie Ann Mayo
Beamer Upper: Annisija Kay Wallin
Vessel: USS Old Blue

We represent the best that Star Fleet Academy has to offer and from the moment we joined one another is space exploration have begun to change the universe one new frontier at a time.

Starship Old Blue has executed our missions flawlessly and has several times inspired song to burst forth from the crew as we have warped along.

A captain could not ask for a better vessel with which to explore the depths of space and mysteries of the universe.

Unfortunately all good things, must come to an end, even for a United Space Ship as faithful as Old Blue. He gave it his all. On this last mission I battled a dark and sinister evil. There were many moments I thought I might not make it back to my happy home one more time, but USS Old Blue pulled through again, and again. Despite all efforts in his behalf, the damage to his warp propulsion system has proved to be irreparable; I tried with all my might to restore him to his former, original glory. He has done so much for me, it would have been the least I could do for him in return. Alas, it was not to be so.

It is with immense sorrow in our separation and unspeakable joy in our magnanimous adventures that I bid him a final farewell. And most of all it is in his spectacular memory that I dedicate this post. We donated his body to science and to the Star Fleet Academy so he can serve his fellow space travelers one last time as a model and learning instrument for current and future students for many years to come. May you rest in peace, old friend; serving alongside you has been an honor.

Goodnight, dear void.

Maeror

Grief is such an interesting thing.
It manifests itself in so many ways.

And just when you think you've moved on and things are getting back to normal again, something happens - you see something, hear something, or a random memory pops into your head - and you're right back there at the beginning of it all.

Sometimes you break down into inconsolable tears.

Other times you laugh at memories until your abs hurt.

Sometimes you take solace in the rain.

Other times you decide just to take a drive and be apart of nature again.

Sometimes you find time to listen to other people's grief.

Other times you find time to write about your own.

And slowly, very slowly sometimes, the grief begins to lift yet one more time.

There is not telling when any given grief cycle has come to an end. In some ways I don't know that the cycle ever truly ends. More I believe that we learn more and more how to make the cycle last longer so as to not repeat it so often.

In the moment of our grief, there are often many other's to share the load of the grief with. With time it seems to isolate you and make you feel as though you are the only one left with pain or sorrow inside, though you are never truly on your own. Because if we're all alone in our grief, we're all together in it too (P.s. I Love You).

Grief can be debilitating; it can be empowering. It can hold you back; it can propel you forward.

And in beautiful anomaly, you determine how your grief determines you.

Goodnight, dear void.