Who Knows Where the Time Goes?

Today was the first day of my youngest child's senior year in high school. Thirteen years ago, she marched off to kindergarten with a big smile. Her dad and I watched with pride and trepidation. We stood, holding hands, as she walked off into Eternity, leaving us behind in a meaningful way. We comforted each other then.

But today, I endured this milestone alone. She smiled at me, head cocked slightly to the side, proud and confident, hands on hips as I snapped a couple of photographs to record the moment. As if I needed a physical record of something that will remain in my memory forever.

I literally set the alarm clock to make my photo. Why was it important to take photos? Because her father wasn't here to witness this milestone. And even though he chose that reality and I could just as easily have shut him out like many suggest is appropriate, it was within my power to include him. Again, it was a gift I could give that cost me nothing and meant a lot to him. And I know he appreciated it.

Why do people feel the need to punish one another? I will never understand that dynamic. Don't get me wrong -- I have more than my share of mean thoughts. I am no saint. I don't even play one on TV. It's just that who does it end up hurting, really, when you do something to harm another? I believe it damages your own psyche. And mine is damaged enough already.

Anyway, as I stood in the hallway with my iPhone, prepared to photograph KJ, Judy Collins' voice called out to me: "Who knows where the Time goes?" My life has kind of a soundtrack, you see. Music and lyrics pop up like Pop-Up Videos throughout the events in my life. It's kinda neat, actually. 

So I looked up the lyrics and turns out, she is not alone while her love is near her. I guess that leaves me out, eh? Or is my love my actual love, the love that resides within me and is part of me and IS me? Maybe I am not alone as long as I retain the capacity to love. I think I'll take that meaning from it.

For your listening pleasure: Judy Collins and "Who Knows Where the Time Goes?" Keep your love alive.~~GHC

Kick 'Em When They're Down - Except I'm Not Down

You just never know when that knife is gonna slip into your back. Just when you think you're safe, you can breathe easy, and you close your eyes and take a deep, relaxing nap -- boom! A new reveal of betrayal appears, or a rude reminder of the future you had looked forward to occurs.

Tonight, as I prepared my new phone for information from my old phone, I realized there were 110 photographs on my old phone I was unaware of. See, it had belonged to "him" until he got a better one, so I had all his old contacts and photographs. I knew I had the contacts, but was blissfully unaware of the photographs. Bet he was, too. There are dozens of photos of him I'd never seen, including photos someone else took of him. There are sweet little images of "Missing you" and "Wish you were here" and "You're my cuddle monkey," and more. Even an animated gif of a woman with those cartoon-y bulging heart eyes. How...adorable.

Then I went through the App Store to see what I wanted and was reminded of TextFree -- the app that started it all. I still remember the day I found TextFree on the laptop and innocently asked my daughter what it was. How oblivious I was to my husband's panicked signals for her not to tell me! In case you are as unaware as I was, TextFree is an application that provides a phone number that you can give out and receive texts without revealing your real phone number. Since I don't want him to have my new number, I might just use TextFree and give him that number so I can control what I receive from him. That would be appropriate justice, I think.

Then I decided to save the photos he'd emailed me via phone from our last evening/date/social obligation a week ago. That's when I saw that he sent them from an email address I'd never seen before. Of course, I knew he had many, many email addresses that I didn't know about but he'd never slipped up and sent me anything from them before. 

I signed up for a new Apple I.D. and had to -- HAD to -- enter a title. I've always used "Mrs." Well, that won't fly nowadays. Kinda stung a little bit. My daughter urged me to use "Dr." and I did. That made it better. :)

Today he wrote that he was going to avoid Facebook for awhile because he felt sad when he read the posts. I guess he can't even rejoice in my happiness, even now. And he's texted me so many times. So many, lately. Repeatedly asking if I'm okay, expressing concern for my well being. 

I haven't been better in years. And I will continue to improve. :)