It’s late Sunday morning, and my daughter Zoey and I are dropping my father off at the airport. We have been lucky enough to enjoy two weekends with him this past month, so we feel downright spoiled, but our fun has come to and end: it’s finally time for him to head back home.
Zoey hops out of the car and steps into my dad’s arms. When he picks her up, Zoey’s arms and legs wrap around him so easily and so quickly, it’s almost as if this hug of hers is a muscle memory, the childhood equivalent of riding a bike or typing on a keyboard.
I stand next to the car watching Zoey, at her tiny head nestled gently against his shoulder. She looks at me, her face almost expressionless, and then she leans back and gives him a tiny kiss. After they exchange I love you’s, he sets Zoey down and gives me a hug. We stand shoulder to shoulder, and as we watch Zoey climb back into the car, my dad puts his arm around me, gives me a little squeeze, and says, “You’re doing just fine.” The slight nod of my head agrees with him. Continue reading “Remember Reminder #15: It’s Okay to Be Vulnerable”
She leans over me, carefully painting a crimson stain across my 4-year-old mouth. Her face is mere inches from mine, and although I cannot see her own mouth, I know she is smiling: the corner of her eye is crinkled and a river of small wrinkles cascades down her cheek. Her hand tilts my chin up a little higher, and I purse my lips tightly together so she can complete my request.
“There you go,” she says, placing the lid back on the lipstick. “Now, go kiss ol’ Jim-Bo on the cheek. Right here.” With her slightly crooked finger, she lightly taps my left cheekbone, a gentle reminder of where I should deliver the peck.
I hop off the counter and peek around the edge of the bathroom door. From where I stand, I can see him reading the newspaper as he sits in his favorite chair, his glasses perched precariously on the edge of his nose.
Continue reading “Week 28: As Precious as Blood: A Story of Friendship | Everyday Nostalgia”
#ememberreminder: Try Not to Worry So Much
For as long as I can remember, I’ve been a worrier.
When I was younger, I worried about getting good grades even though I studied hard. I worried that I wouldn’t be able to make new friends every time we moved. I worried that no matter how hard I tried at anything, I wouldn’t be good enough. I worried that my stuffed animals might come alive at night (silly, I know, but there was this one creepy bear…).
Becoming an adult and then a parent have really taken those worrying skills up a notch: I worry about money, my career, making ends meet, being able to provide for me and my daughter, Zoey… I worry about my friends, my family, my loved ones… I worry about my future and my happiness… I worry about Zoey’s happiness, her future, her… well, everything. Continue reading “Remember Reminder #14: Try Not to Worry So Much”
I step onto the scale for the third time in less than a minute. For some reason, I believe that if I do it more than once, the number staring up at me might change—and in the direction I want—but every time, it’s the same.
Every. Single. Time.
This nightly ritual has been going on for months. I know that one day, if I knew my daughter was doing what I am doing right now, my heart would break. It would ache to know that she was letting three little numbers sum up her self-worth.
But right now, the girl on the scale isn’t her: it’s me. And although the digital read out flashes three numbers that are so low, they’re only a handful away from being two, I am still so unsatisfied with them. No matter what I do, or how low they go, it doesn’t feel like enough. Somehow, I feel like I am too much and not enough all at the same time, and that feeling? It’s a feeling I’ve come to hate.
Continue reading “Week 27: By the Numbers | Everyday Nostalgia”
#rememberreminder: Splurge Every Once in a While
In my hands, I hold four placemats. They are simple, but unlike the ones I have at home, they are circular instead of rectangular—exactly the kind I’ve wanted. My kitchen table isn’t that large, so my current placemats overlap each other when I set them out—and it’s enough of an overlap that it drives me just a little bit crazy.
So here I stand, holding $8 worth of fabric that has the potential to make me a little bit happier: I’ve convinced myself that I have enough stress in my day to be annoyed by my placemats anymore, so I’ve decided to splurge a little bit and buy new ones.
But as I finger the light gray fabric, I start hearing that little voice in my head, the one that always does such a good job changing my mind: You really don’t need those, Corey…
Continue reading “Remember Reminder #13: Splurge Every Once in a While”